The events of 1956 remain a live issue for Hungarian society and even after 53 years, the anniversary still rekindles ideological passions, ruffles the feathers of the political elite, and runs up against basic arguments about how to interpret the collective trauma of the revolution. For the Right, the essential 1956 was a national uprising against communist dictatorship, while for the Left, the revolution was at heart an attempt to reform communism and win freedom from Soviet control. Every year contemporary political battles are fought around the symbols and disputed memories of of 1956, famously leading to a riotous reenactment of the uprising on the 50th anniversary, when the authorities lost control of the streets to protesters swathed in the colours of the revolution. Everyone has their own 1956, and picks and chooses from the album of recollections and urban myths to create a personal mix of hot memories, cherished heroes and political ideals.
Track 1: Peg Leg Jankó and the Corvin Alley Crew
The heroism of the rebel group that operated near today’s Corvin Cinema is legendary and their exploits included perfecting the technique of disabling Russian T 34s with Molotov Cocktails lobbed by teenage boys from windows overlooking the Körút. After the defeat of the uprising, communist historians argued that most of the gang were politically-naive ex-cons that committed more than their fair share of atrocities and spent much of their time looting department stores. Stories of the daring and bravery of eccentric guerrillas such as the one-legged Peg Leg Jankó are preserved in revolutionary lore, including his death in the arms of prominent 56-er Gergely Pongrátz on the street behind the cinema on the day the Russians returned.
Track 2: Anarchy in District Nine
Nearby the Corvin Alley on the other side of Úlloi út was the base of the Tűzóltó utca group, who symbolise the leftwing version of 1956 and were trying to bring about a true communist revolution on the ruins of Hungarian Stalinism. Led by charismatic engineer and Auschwitz survivor István Angyal, the group managed to keep fighting for several days after the Russian tanks rolled in on 4 November thanks to an ingenious system of tunnels made by knocking through the cellar walls of adjacent buildings. On the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution on 7 November they even decorated the street with red flags, and were rewarded with more violent retribution by the Soviets who had no sympathy for leftwing anarchists.
Track 3: Going Down on Republic Square
One of the most controversial incidents of the uprising remains the siege of the Party Headquarters on today’s Republic Square next to the Erkel Opera Theatre in the 8th District. Armed insurgents managed to break the resistance of a group of party functionaries and their ÁVH (State Security Force) defenders, after Hungarian army tanks opened fire on the building by mistake. Waving a white flag, the defeated ÁVH-ers emerged from the building and were instantly seized by the mob and strung up in the trees, with as many as 60 people executed by the vengeful crowd. In the hysteria, a rumour spread that under the Party Building was an underground prison where hundreds remained trapped, so bulldozers and drills were brought to search for the non-existent ÁVH lair.
Track 4: Diplomatic Squat
Tipped off by phone about the arrival of the Soviet tanks on the morning of 4th November, Imre Nagy and 40 of his closest associates made a dash for the Yugoslav Embassy to seek refuge. They remained inside for 18 days, roughing it on make-shift beds and having to forego bread with their tinned diplomatic supplies, as the building was besieged by Soviet troops. One day a bus turned up outside, promising to take everyone home, as an agreement had been reached guaranteeing their safety. Nagy meekly boarded the bus and were taken to KGB headquarters in Matyásföld and then moved to a village in Romania for safe keeping, before returning to face trial and execution for his part in the revolution.
Track 5: Unguarded Money
During the 1956 revolution, Hungarian artist Miklós Erdély placed boxes in the streets of Budapest to collect money for the martyrs of the revolution. This exercise demonstrated the purity of the revolution, because the money boxes were left unguarded and nobody thought to steal from them. This was the first in a long line of artistic actions that referred to the Hungarian Revolution and its suppression, with artists playing an important role in preserving the memory of 1956 during the years of censorship and challenging the taboo on referring to the revolution in public. Twenty years later, Erdély re-enacted his original action on the streets of Budapest as a conceptual art work.
Track 6: Radio I Love You (Remix)
The siege of the Budapest Radio Building is one of the most symbolic events of 1956, partly because it was here on the evening of 23 October 1956 that the first shots were fired and the crowd went over from protest to insurrection. By the next morning around 200 people were dead, in what was the most serious fighting between Hungarians during the uprising, and the insurgents had taken over the building, though for technical reasons they failed to broadcast their demands. Fifty years later, demonstrators managed to overpower the police guard and force their way inside the building of Hungarian State Television, in a weird rerun of 1956. Hungarian artist Csaba Nemes captured the confusion of these accidental revolutionaries in his animated decalogue REMAKE. Once inside, the masked men could think of nothing better to do than loot the Turó Rudi machine in the lobby.
Track 7: Night of the Bouncing Statues
The demolition of the Budapest Stalin statue is one of the most dramatic examples of popular iconoclasm in the twentieth century. However, the speed of events and the bloody conclusion to the Hungarian Revolution has left the origins and exact details of the destruction of the statue shrouded in mystery. No film footage or photography of the actual moment of demolition exists, while participants and witnesses were unable to talk publicly about what happened for years afterwards. Looking back from today, one eyewitness remembers how after several unsuccessful attempts, the statue was brought down by cutting the boots with blow torches and using ropes tied to trucks. When it finally toppled to the ground, the huge bronze Stalin effigy fell more like a human than a statue: ‘it was like a rubber ball, it jumped up a couple of times before coming to rest.’
