President Eisenhower was far more worried about the simultaneous Suez crisis. But even before Suez, he had decided Washington’s oft-stated moral backing for the liberation of eastern Europe would not extend to supporting would-be liberators. It was a painful lesson for the Hungarians, especially those who had listened to the pro-liberation broadcasts of the US-backed Radio Free Europe. They felt betrayed - and rightly so.
The world unshaken
By Stefan Wagstyl
Published: October 27 2006 14:55 | Last updated: October 27 2006 14:55
Twelve Days: Revolution 1956
by Victor Sebestyen
Weidenfeld & Nicolson ₤20, 320 pages
FT bookshopprice: ₤18
The Will to Survive: A History of Hungary
by Bryan Cartledge
Timewell Press ₤25, 624 pages
FT bookshopprice: ₤23
The Hungarians: A Thousand Years of Victory in Defeat
by Paul Lendvai
Princeton University Press ₤32.50, 608 pages
“It was such an eerie sound; several thousand people sighing with joy... We thought the whole world is looking at us.”
So said student Stephen Vicinczey, recalling the moment when demonstrators destroyed the huge statue of Stalin in central Budapest. It was October 23 1956, the first day of what became known as the Hungarian revolution. Hungarians declared their freedom from Soviet rule - only to see their hopes crushed within a fortnight when the Red Army ruthlessly suppressed the rebellion, killing 2,700 people and injuring 20,000 others. It was the first serious uprising against Soviet rule in eastern Europe - and the last until the Prague Spring of 1968.
Vicinczey was right that the world was watching. For a few days, the unbelievable seemed to be happening: the Red Army was humbled by workers, students and schoolchildren. But as Victor Sebestyen argues in Twelve Days, the uprising prompted contradictory reactions. It still does - and Hungarians remain divided about its legacy.
Sebestyen succinctly describes the Revolution’s antecedents in the ruthless imposition of Communist rule and the brutal regime of Matyas Rakosi, under whom 2,350 Hungarians were executed and more than 1.3 million prosecuted.
After Stalin’s death in 1953, sullen hatred of communism turned increasingly into vocal discontent, culminating in the events of October 23: a peaceful pro-reform demonstration ended in a spontaneous mass protest. As Sebestyen says, there was no premeditated plan. The revolution just happened.
The following day, Soviet troops failed in a half-hearted attempt to suppress the revolt and it seemed that the rebels had won. The Communist leadership brought Imre Nagy back into office, who embarked on an increasingly desperate effort to secure a compromise between the authorities and the revolution. He failed. Two weeks later the Soviets returned, with overwhelming force.
We now know that this was not inevitable. Documents released after 1991 show that the Kremlin considered pulling its troops out of Hungary, as long as it stayed communist. But Khrushchev decided withdrawal would open the door to western “imperialists”. His decision was made easier by the knowledge that the US would not intervene. President Eisenhower was far more worried about the simultaneous Suez crisis. But even before Suez, he had decided Washington’s oft-stated moral backing for the liberation of eastern Europe would not extend to supporting would-be liberators. It was a painful lesson for the Hungarians, especially those who had listened to the pro-liberation broadcasts of the US-backed Radio Free Europe. They felt betrayed - and rightly so.
After the revolution, Janos Kadar was installed as leader and held office until 1988, almost until the fall of communism. He started by exacting brutal revenge against Nagy and his associates but later developed eastern Europe’s most liberal communist regime. After he died, most Hungarians remembered him as a benevolent ruler, but for a minority he will always be Nagy’s executioner. The argument over his legacy is one of the deep divides of Hungarian politics.
Sebestyen is excellent at bringing to life the revolutionary moment. Personalities leap from his pages - the brutal Rakosi, the vacillating Nagy, the brave Pal Maleter (the revolution’s military commander) and the cunning Soviet ambassador Yuri Andropov, who won Nagy’s trust while plotting to destroy him.
At times the account is almost too fast and cries out for considered reflection. The story moves so rapidly that the text of the Sixteen Points - demands passed at a student meeting on the eve of the revolution - is relegated to an appendix, even though Sebestyen rightly describes it as “one of Hungary’s most historic documents”. However, as an introduction to one of the most significant events in post-war Europe, this book has much to recommend it.
For those in search of the long view, there are Bryan Cartledge’s The Will to Survive and Paul Lendvai’s The Hungarians, both exploring Hungary’s survival in a sea of adversity. Cartledge, a former British diplomat and academic, brings the dispassionate view of a non-Hungarian to his history. Lendvai, a Hungarian refugee and former FT correspondent, has written a passionate work filled with anecdote and personality. He ends with a chapter on Hungarian geniuses entitled “Everyone is a Hungarian”. Lendvai comments wryly that this “insatiable appetite for recognition abroad” reflects “deep-rooted uncertainty and fear” about Hungary’s survival.
Stefan Wagstyl is the FT’s East European editor.
Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2006
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