Seventy years after Soviet forces crushed Hungary’s uprising, Budapest is commemorating the revolution under a new government following Viktor Orbán’s defeat.

Yet the anniversary raises questions extending far beyond Hungary: how Russia has repeatedly sought to determine the political future of European nations, why economic dependency can become an instrument of influence, and whether the sovereignty demanded in 1956 has finally acquired a more durable meaning.

Seventy years after Soviet tanks entered Budapest to suppress a rebellion against Moscow’s domination, Hungary is marking the anniversary of its 1956 revolution under circumstances that would have seemed improbable only a year ago. Viktor Orbán, whose political career began with a demand for the withdrawal of Soviet troops, has lost power. His successor, Péter Magyar, is welcoming European leaders to commemorate an uprising that remains among the defining events of Hungary’s modern history.

European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and European Council President António Costa are joining the commemorations on 23 October, six months after Magyar’s Tisza party ended Orbán’s 16 years in government. Budapest’s relationship with Brussels has improved, previously frozen European funding is being unlocked, and the new administration has begun reviewing aspects of the country’s longstanding economic relationship with Russia.

But the significance of the anniversary cannot be reduced to a change of government or Hungary’s renewed diplomatic engagement with the European Union. The revolution of 1956 exposed a fundamental conflict between national self-determination and the security interests of an imperial power. Seven decades later, the methods through which Moscow exercises influence have changed considerably, but the struggle over political autonomy, economic dependence and the right of European states to determine their own alliances has not disappeared.

Indeed, the central question raised by 1956 has acquired renewed relevance since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine: where does legitimate national sovereignty end when a more powerful neighbour claims the authority to determine another country’s strategic choices?

Hungary’s longer history of Russian intervention

The events of October and November 1956 were not the first occasion on which Russian military power had intervened to suppress Hungarian aspirations to independence.

More than a century earlier, during the revolutions of 1848–1849, Hungary attempted to establish political autonomy from the Habsburg monarchy. Under Lajos Kossuth, the Hungarian revolutionary government pursued constitutional government and ultimately declared independence.

Austria proved unable to defeat the Hungarian forces without outside assistance. In 1849, Emperor Franz Joseph turned to Tsar Nicholas I, whose Russian army intervened on the Habsburg side. The military campaign ended with the defeat of the Hungarian struggle for independence.

As historian David Saunders examines in The Revolutions in Europe, 1848–1849: From Reform to Reaction, Russian intervention formed part of Nicholas I’s broader determination to defend the conservative European order against revolutionary movements.

Russia was not seeking to annex Hungary in 1849. Its objective was to preserve a political arrangement favourable to the established continental powers and prevent revolutionary movements from spreading into territories where they might threaten Russian imperial interests.

The distinction is important historically. Tsarist Russia, the Soviet Union and the contemporary Russian Federation represent different political systems and operated under different international circumstances. Nevertheless, all three have, at various points, treated the political orientation of neighbouring European countries as a matter in which Moscow possesses interests extending beyond its own borders.

The pattern reappeared in a substantially different form after the Second World War.

The Red Army’s advance into Hungary in 1944–1945 brought an end to Nazi German occupation and the country’s wartime alliance with Berlin. Yet liberation from Nazi rule was followed by Soviet military occupation and the progressive elimination of independent Hungarian political institutions.

By 1948, the communist leadership under Mátyás Rákosi had established a Stalinist dictatorship. Political opponents faced imprisonment, show trials and persecution, while the security apparatus operated with Soviet support.

Hungary’s political and economic structures were reorganised according to Soviet priorities. Heavy industry received preferential treatment, agricultural collectivisation disrupted rural communities, and Soviet influence reached into the country’s security services, administration and economic planning.

For many Hungarians, the experience reinforced a historical memory in which Russian intervention was associated not with national liberation but with the repeated denial of political independence.

1956 was more than an anti-communist revolt

The revolution that began on 23 October 1956 is frequently remembered as a straightforward confrontation between communism and democracy. That interpretation captures its principal political outcome, but obscures the complexity of the movement itself.

The uprising united students, industrial workers, intellectuals, nationalists, reform communists and citizens who had little interest in ideological disputes but resented political repression and Soviet control.

The sixteen demands adopted by Budapest students on 22 October reveal the breadth of their ambitions.

They called for the withdrawal of Soviet forces, multiparty elections, freedom of expression, independent courts and the restoration of national symbols. They also demanded better wages, the right to strike, changes to agricultural policy and the renegotiation of economic relations with Moscow.

One demand is particularly revealing in the context of present-day Hungary: the students wanted transparency over Soviet exploitation of Hungarian uranium deposits and the right to sell the country’s resources at international market prices.

Political freedom and economic sovereignty were already understood as interconnected.

The revolutionaries did not share a single economic programme. Some favoured democratic socialism and workers’ control of factories, while others wanted the restoration of parliamentary democracy and a market economy. Workers’ councils emerged as institutions of direct political participation, challenging the Communist Party’s claim to represent the working class.

The movement was therefore neither an exclusively conservative rebellion nor merely a liberal-democratic revolution. It was a national uprising against a system that had deprived Hungarian society of the ability to determine its own political arrangements.

The immediate confrontation escalated when demonstrators attempting to broadcast their demands encountered resistance from the state security apparatus. Violence spread, Stalin’s enormous statue in Budapest was pulled down, and armed groups began fighting government forces and Soviet troops.

For a brief period, the revolution appeared capable of succeeding.

Imre Nagy, a reform communist who had previously served as prime minister, returned to office and gradually accepted demands that went considerably beyond his original reform agenda. Political parties re-emerged, Soviet troops began withdrawing from Budapest, and on 1 November Nagy declared Hungary’s neutrality and its withdrawal from the Warsaw Pact.

The Soviet leadership initially appeared willing to consider a compromise. However, it ultimately concluded that Hungary’s departure from the communist bloc would undermine Moscow’s position throughout Eastern Europe.

On 4 November, Soviet forces launched a major offensive against Budapest.

In his final government broadcast, Nagy declared:

“Our troops are fighting. The government is at its post.”

The words, preserved in the historical record of the uprising, described a government confronting the military power of the state that had previously guaranteed its existence.

The resistance was defeated. Up to 3,000 people were killed, approximately 200,000 Hungarians fled the country, and thousands faced imprisonment. Nagy was subsequently arrested and executed in June 1958.

What 1956 revealed about Moscow — and the West

The suppression of the revolution was not simply the consequence of overwhelming Soviet military superiority. It was also the result of strategic calculations in Moscow, uncertainty within the Hungarian leadership and the reluctance of Western governments to challenge the division of Europe established after the Second World War.

In his book Failed Illusions: Moscow, Washington, Budapest, and the 1956 Hungarian Revolt, historian Charles Gati challenges the simplified account of a united revolution abandoned by an indifferent West.

Gati argues that Nagy struggled to reconcile two conflicting forces: the increasingly radical demands of the Hungarian population and the Soviet leadership’s determination to preserve its strategic position.

A more limited reform programme might conceivably have survived, although this remains a disputed historical possibility. Once Hungary moved towards neutrality and withdrawal from the Warsaw Pact, the prospects of Soviet acceptance diminished dramatically.

Moscow’s calculations were also influenced by fears that political concessions in Hungary would encourage similar demands in Poland, Czechoslovakia and elsewhere in the Soviet bloc.

The United States, meanwhile, supported the principle of Eastern European liberation rhetorically but was unwilling to risk direct military confrontation with the Soviet Union.

The Hungarian crisis also coincided with the Suez intervention by Britain, France and Israel, which diverted international diplomatic attention and exposed divisions among Western powers.

Historian András Nagy explores these contradictions in Diplomacy and Disregard: The Hungarian Revolution and the United Nations 1956–1963, examining the gap between international declarations and the limited practical assistance available to Hungary.

The lesson of 1956 was consequently more complicated than the assertion that the West had abandoned Hungary. The uprising demonstrated that the international system recognised national sovereignty in principle while allowing the military division of Europe to determine how far that sovereignty could be exercised in practice.

For Moscow, the suppression of Hungary established a precedent: a neighbouring state could possess a government and national institutions while remaining subject to coercive intervention if its political direction threatened Soviet strategic interests.

That principle would reappear during the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968.

The paradox of Viktor Orbán

The political afterlife of 1956 is inseparable from the career of Viktor Orbán.

On 16 June 1989, at the ceremonial reburial of Imre Nagy, the 26-year-old Orbán delivered a speech demanding free elections and the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Hungary.

At a time when the communist system was approaching collapse, his appearance transformed him into one of the most recognisable representatives of Hungary’s emerging democratic opposition.

The symbolism was unmistakable. Nagy, executed as a traitor by the Soviet-backed regime, was being publicly rehabilitated, while a new political generation claimed the revolution as the foundation of a democratic future.

Hungary subsequently completed its transition away from communist rule. Soviet troops withdrew in 1991, the country joined NATO in 1999 and became a member of the European Union in 2004.

Yet Orbán’s later political development introduced a contradiction into the national interpretation of 1956.

After returning to power in 2010, he progressively concentrated political authority, weakened institutional checks and balances, and constructed a system in which government influence extended across significant sections of the media, public administration and economy.

At the same time, his foreign policy cultivated increasingly close relations with Vladimir Putin.

Hungary remained a member of NATO and the EU, but Orbán repeatedly challenged common European positions on Russia. Following the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, his government opposed or delayed sanctions measures, resisted financial assistance to Kyiv and secured exemptions allowing continued imports of Russian oil.

The contradiction was particularly striking because Ukraine’s defence against Russian invasion revived the same fundamental principle for which Hungarians had fought in 1956: the right of a European nation to exist independently of Moscow’s strategic demands.

Orbán presented his position as a defence of Hungarian national interests, arguing that continued energy supplies and avoidance of direct involvement in the war were essential to his country’s security.

His critics argued that this interpretation of sovereignty was selective: resisting political pressure from Brussels while preserving economic and diplomatic arrangements that strengthened Moscow’s influence.

The legacy of 1956 thus became an instrument of competing political narratives rather than a settled national consensus.

From military occupation to economic dependency

Russia no longer possesses the military infrastructure through which the Soviet Union controlled Hungary. It cannot station forces in Budapest under the Warsaw Pact or impose a government through the Communist Party.

Its contemporary methods of influence operate through a more complicated combination of commercial relationships, infrastructure dependencies, political networks, information operations and diplomatic pressure.

Energy remains particularly important.

According to the European Commission’s 2026 assessment of the Hungarian economy, more than 90 per cent of Hungary’s imported oil and 74 per cent of its imported gas came from Russia in 2025.

Such dependence creates vulnerabilities that cannot be eliminated by a parliamentary election.

Long-term contracts, refinery configurations, pipeline routes and nuclear infrastructure impose costs on governments attempting to diversify supplies. Russia’s ability to influence energy prices and contractual arrangements can consequently shape the policy choices available to individual European states.

Hungary’s Paks II nuclear project illustrates the problem.

Awarded to Russia’s state nuclear corporation Rosatom in 2014 under Orbán, the project created a relationship extending across construction, financing, technology and potentially future operations.

Magyar’s government is now examining whether Rosatom should remain the principal contractor. The review, also examined by EU Today, demonstrates how political change does not automatically dissolve inherited strategic dependencies.

Moscow’s objectives, however, extend beyond securing export revenues.

By maintaining influence over energy infrastructure and commercially significant relationships, Russia can acquire opportunities to affect political decisions within individual European countries. The effect can extend to the European Union as a whole where unanimity requirements allow one member state to delay collective decisions.

Economic interdependence is not itself evidence of corruption or improper influence. Nevertheless, opaque contracts, politically connected intermediaries and inadequate public scrutiny can create opportunities for the exercise of foreign influence.

The European Parliament has repeatedly raised concerns about Russian efforts to influence European political organisations, including through funding networks, cultivated relationships and the involvement of political intermediaries.

Moscow’s broader contest for influence in Europe

Russia’s contemporary European strategy is not a straightforward attempt to reconstruct Soviet rule over the entire continent. Its more immediate objectives include weakening European unity, limiting NATO’s freedom of action, obstructing support for Ukraine and establishing recognition of Russian security interests in neighbouring states.

These objectives do not always require governments openly aligned with Moscow. Political fragmentation, institutional distrust and disagreements between European capitals can themselves serve Russian interests.

Information manipulation has become one of the principal instruments available to the Kremlin.

The European External Action Service’s fourth report on foreign information manipulation documents Russian operations designed to exploit social divisions, discredit political leaders, manipulate electoral debates and weaken confidence in democratic institutions.

Rather than promoting one consistent political ideology, these campaigns adapt to local circumstances. In some countries they amplify nationalist rhetoric; elsewhere they exploit economic grievances, hostility towards migration, fears of military escalation or mistrust of European institutions.

Their effectiveness depends partly on the existence of domestic audiences willing to accept or circulate the narratives involved.

Hungary’s April 2026 election offered a direct example of the problem.

Research by Clemson University’s Media Forensics Hub identified a coordinated Russian-linked influence operation targeting Magyar’s Tisza party through fabricated narratives, inauthentic social-media accounts and amplification networks.

Separate reporting alleged Kremlin efforts to assist Orbán’s electoral campaign. Moscow denied interference, and not every allegation has been independently established.

The international election observation mission also identified serious problems involving media imbalance, misuse of state resources and manipulative online content. The election nevertheless produced a decisive transfer of power.

That outcome demonstrates both the reach and the limitations of such methods. Foreign information operations can attempt to shape political perceptions, but they do not necessarily determine how voters ultimately behave.

Other mechanisms, including cyber operations, espionage, sabotage and the cultivation of political or business relationships, form part of the broader contest between Russia and European governments.

The strategic logic differs fundamentally from the Soviet intervention of November 1956. Rather than imposing control through tanks and occupation forces, Moscow can seek to reduce a country’s freedom of political action by exploiting economic vulnerabilities and divisions within its institutions.

Magyar’s government and the limits of a new beginning

The April 2026 election marked a significant change in Hungary’s political direction.

Magyar’s Tisza party won a two-thirds parliamentary majority, creating an opportunity to reform institutions that had been extensively reshaped during Orbán’s years in power.

His government has introduced anti-corruption and transparency measures, sought to strengthen judicial independence and restored more constructive relations with European institutions.

The European Commission has agreed to unlock approximately €16.4 billion in funding previously restricted over governance concerns, although access to individual funding streams and their disbursement remain subject to the relevant procedures.

Yet the new government should not be mistaken for an administration that has abandoned every element of its predecessor’s foreign policy.

Magyar remains a Hungarian conservative politician with his own interpretation of sovereignty and national interests. He has maintained reservations about accelerated Ukrainian accession to the EU and emphasised the rights of ethnic Hungarians living in Ukraine.

Indeed, recent disagreements over Ukraine’s EU accession negotiations demonstrate that improved relations with Brussels have not eliminated Budapest’s willingness to defend positions at odds with those of other member states.

The more consequential test may therefore concern the institutions through which Hungary makes political decisions.

Reducing dependence on Russian energy, establishing transparent public procurement, restoring independent media and ensuring that judicial oversight operates without political interference would reduce opportunities for both domestic patronage and external influence.

The government must also address the institutional legacy of decades of communist rule and subsequent political transformation, including questions about historical accountability and access to security-service records.

These are not simply questions of ideological alignment with Brussels. They concern whether Hungary possesses institutions capable of making and implementing decisions independently of concentrated political or economic interests.

The unfinished meaning of 1956

The presence of European leaders in Budapest on the 70th anniversary of the uprising provides an unmistakable contrast with November 1956.

At that time, Hungary’s government appealed to the international community as Soviet forces dismantled its authority. Today, Budapest participates in European institutions through which it can influence decisions affecting the continent’s political, economic and security arrangements.

Membership of the European Union is not equivalent to membership of the Warsaw Pact. EU membership rests on treaties voluntarily accepted by democratic states, with legal mechanisms for participation, disagreement and withdrawal. Soviet control of Hungary rested ultimately on military force.

Nevertheless, participation in European institutions does not remove the need for national governments to make independent strategic decisions or to account for them democratically.

The revolution of 1956 was, above all, a rejection of political dependency. Its participants did not agree on every aspect of Hungary’s future, but they rejected the proposition that decisions about their country’s government, economy and alliances belonged in Moscow.

Seventy years later, the comparison between Soviet military domination and contemporary Russian economic and political influence cannot be exact. The historical circumstances, instruments of power and international constraints are different.

What persists is the problem of external leverage over national choices.

Hungary’s political transformation in 2026 has altered the balance of power in Budapest, but the country’s inherited economic dependencies, institutional weaknesses and disputes over its strategic orientation remain.

The historical significance of the anniversary therefore extends beyond the rehabilitation of one political tradition or the defeat of another.

In 1956, Hungarians demonstrated that Soviet military supremacy had not secured their political consent. In 1989, the memory of that resistance helped undermine the legitimacy of communist rule. In 2026, another political transition has reopened the question of how national independence should be understood within a deeply interconnected Europe.

The measure of Hungary’s political sovereignty will not be the number of foreign dignitaries attending its commemorations, nor the frequency with which its leaders invoke the language of independence.

It will be the extent to which Hungary can make democratic choices without those choices being constrained by dependence on an external power — or by domestic institutions incapable of resisting its influence.

• I spent my 20s climbing the career ladder and building the life of my dreams in Scotland.
• Then, after losing my dad, I decided to make a big change: I moved abroad and went back to school.
• I've been struggling financially, but I know that I made the right choice.

For most of my 20s, I wanted to climb the career ladder — and hoped that as soon as I reached the top, everything would become clear and I would live happily ever after.

My life felt like it was headed in the right direction. I was on a steady, exciting career trajectory in the climate policy field. I even bought my first flat in an up-and-coming area of Edinburgh.

Then, my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer in late 2022. The next few years were spent grappling with his illness and, eventually, his death.

I quickly felt the whole ecosystem of my life fall apart. I was struggling at work, and I didn't know how to ask for help. I tried my best to carry on as normal and try to convince myself that the work I was doing — and, by extension, myself — was important.

As I edged toward my 30th birthday in early 2025, against a backdrop of grief and burnout, the need for change felt urgent and existential.

I made a drastic change

It was shortly after this, in the spring, that I decided a move abroad was exactly what I needed.

I quit my job and spent the next few months sending applications to schools across Europe, hoping to pursue a master's degree in my field and embark on a fresh start.

When an offer came from a university in Budapest, I knew that was where I would be going. I had visited for the first time about a decade prior, and fallen in love. I remember thinking, "I could see myself living here one day," not thinking that that "one day" would ever actually come.

In September, I packed up my life, started renting out my Edinburgh flat, and made the move.

The first few months brought a mix of excitement, fear, and disbelief. There was a lot of bureaucracy to navigate — forms to fill out, applications to be processed — and I couldn't relax until everything was completed.

I was also pretty lonely in the beginning. When I first moved, I didn't know a single person in Budapest and had to build a completely new social circle from scratch.

I also sometimes felt like an imposter: I was a lot older than the fresh-faced students in their early 20s who made up the bulk of my classmates. It felt like I was in a completely different life stage, and I was worried I didn't fit in.

Financially, the move has been difficult

Once I got settled, many of my anxieties subsided. I loved my new flat and enjoyed going back to school and learning new things.

Unfortunately, the hardest part — finding work — is ongoing. I figured I'd be able to get a part-time office job while I completed my degree, but it's been difficult. I've had to rely on my savings much more than I expected.

I've done what I can to get by. This summer, I worked long hours at a temp job; I've also worked as a teaching assistant at my university and done some voiceover work. However, none of this compares to what I used to earn as a full-time employee with a senior title.

And although the rent in Budapest is generally a lot lower than in Edinburgh, my general cost of living still feels pretty high, particularly when it comes to groceries and daily expenses.

This sense of financial precarity is difficult, and it's definitely not sustainable long-term. I'm lucky to have some income from my renter in Edinburgh and savings from my years working full-time — but there are still moments when I feel very acutely aware of the security I left behind.

I'm making less money now, but I'm happier than ever

Despite the erratic, unsteady, and low-paid nature of all these jobs — or maybe even because of it — my attitude toward work has changed.

For so many years, my job was all I talked and worried about. I felt like what I did defined me as a person.

My jobs now might not be as "stable" or consistent, but I no longer view my career as my identity. Instead, I think of my jobs as a series of experiences — some good, some bad — that have made my world bigger and my life richer (unfortunately, not literally).

My attitude toward spending has changed, too. In the past, I would spend money on clothes, nights out, expensive nail salons, and vacations without really thinking. Now I'm much more frugal and intentional about my money, which I think is a good thing.

Most of all, though, my move forced me out of a comfort zone that was becoming increasingly less comfortable. Starting fresh somewhere new — and making my life here work, even amid the challenges — has shown me that I'm more resilient than I ever thought I could be.

I know now that no matter what gets thrown at me, I will deal with it somehow.

At times, I wonder how much easier my life would be if I had stayed where I was — and if I'm being honest, the answer is probably "a lot." But I am so glad I didn't choose the easy option.

I'm on track to graduate next June, and I am excited about what lies ahead. I'm not sure yet whether I'll explore opportunities elsewhere in Europe or perhaps move back to the UK — but I hope that no matter where I end up, I will return more confident and self-assured than when I left.

The series continues as we report on developments following April’s historic election and on the steps taken since then by the Tisza government. This week, we cover the following topics:

• Orbán’s former right-hand man in custody.
• What did we learn from Tisza’s first budget?
• Ursula von der Leyen to give a speech on the anniversary of the revolution.
• Poll of the week: more than four million people back Tisza.

Orbán’s ex-right-hand man in custody

The last time a central bank governor was taken into custody in Hungary was in 1944, during the German occupation, as Válasz Online pointed out. This 82-year hiatus ended on Wednesday (21 October), when György Matolcsy was taken into police custody.

But Matolcsy is not simply a former central bank governor; he is one of the architects of Orbán’s economic policy, a key figure in the former prime minister’s system, and together with his family he has in recent years become one of the symbols of Fidesz’s taste for luxury.

Who is György Matolcsy?

“I have a very strong emotional relationship with Matolcsy. I owe him a great deal, I have learned a great many things from him. Matolcsy is an economist of historic stature,” prime minister Péter Magyar quoted ex-prime minister Viktor Orbán’s words from an interview last November, after the former central bank governor had been taken into custody.

Matolcsy was a member of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party (MSZMP), and after the regime change he became prime minister József Antall’s chief adviser. In 1999 he joined Orbán’s advisory board, and from 2000 to 2002 he served as economy minister in the first Orbán cabinet.

Even after the 2002 election defeat he remained loyal to Orbán, and in 2010 he became minister for national economy, meaning he was put in charge of both the finance and economy portfolios at the head of a merged super-ministry. It was at this time that Orbán called him his right-hand man.

Matolcsy was the architect of Orbán’s “unorthodox economic policy”; he oversaw the nationalisation of private pension funds, the sending home of the IMF from Hungary, and the introduction of high sectoral surtaxes.

The great bank heist

He was appointed central bank governor in 2013, and by 2016 the foundations scandal had already broken. It emerged that 266bn forints’ worth (€840m) of public assets had been shifted into the foundations of the Hungarian National Bank (MNB). These foundations bought buildings and works of art, and also granted substantial benefits to their own leaders.

Later, the foundations’ money was entrusted to an asset management company, which obtained further funds and thus came to control assets of around 500bn forints, of which some 400bn forints (€1bn) – was public money.

This asset manager built up an international corporate network, behind which stood the central bank governor’s son, Ádám Matolcsy, and his circle. The asset manager bought into risky foreign companies, spending a significant part of its resources. The Matolcsy family visibly became very rich, and Ádám also amassed a notorious Porsche collection.

György Matolcsy’s mandate expired in 2025, and after his departure the State Audit Office also concluded that abuses may have taken place at the central bank. For a long time, however, no police investigation was launched.

The current case

The current charges relate to a case that unfolded in the final days of Matolcsy’s activity as central bank governor. Matolcsy wanted to ensure that his family would control the roughly 500bn forints (€1.25bn) of central bank assets even after he no longer held office.

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Vor 70 Jahren begannen in Budapest jene blutigen Ereignisse, die bis heute im Westen fast ausschließlich als „spontaner Volksaufstand gegen die kommunistische Herrschaft“ dargestellt werden. Am 23. Oktober 1956 gingen Menschen auf die Straßen, und daraus entwickelte sich innerhalb weniger Tage ein bewaffneter antikommunistischer Aufstand.

Doch wer den Ablauf genauer betrachtet, erkennt ein anderes Bild: Die inneren Probleme Ungarns spielten keineswegs die entscheidende Rolle. Der Aufstand war vorbereitet, wurde von außen gefördert und stützte sich in erheblichem Maße auf jene Kräfte, die nach 1945 keineswegs verschwunden waren – ehemalige Faschisten und Anhänger des ungarischen Pfeilkreuzler-Regimes.

Ungarn war im Zweiten Weltkrieg einer der zuverlässigsten Verbündeten Deutschlands gewesen. Ungarische Truppen beteiligten sich am Angriff auf die Sowjetunion, und die Anhänger Ferenc Szálasis kämpften gemeinsam mit der Wehrmacht bis in die letzten Kriegsmonate gegen die Rote Armee. Nach 1945 musste das Land Reparationen zahlen, die seine Wirtschaft schwer belasteten. Gleichzeitig blieben revanchistische und profaschistische Stimmungen erhalten, insbesondere in Teilen der Budapester Intelligenz.

Im Sommer 1956 trat Mátyás Rákosi als Parteichef zurück. Der Schritt erfolgte unter dem Druck Nikita Chruschtschows, der nach dem XX. Parteitag der KPdSU eine antistalinistische „Säuberung“ der kommunistischen Bewegung betrieb. Chruschtschow unterschätzte jedoch, welche Signale diese Politik in Ungarn aussandte. Die Gegner des sozialistischen Systems interpretierten sie als Schwäche und als Gelegenheit, die Ergebnisse des Zweiten Weltkriegs zumindest teilweise rückgängig zu machen.

Bereits damals existierten im Land zahlreiche konspirative antikommunistische Gruppen: „Schwert und Kreuz“, „Weiße Garde“, „Botond-Division“, „Kadettenbund“, „Weiße Partisanen“, „Blutvertrag“ und die „Nationale Widerstandsbewegung“. Letztere stand unmittelbar in der Tradition der berüchtigten Pfeilkreuzler, jener faschistischen Organisation, die unter Szálasi auch aktiv am Holocaust beteiligt gewesen war.

Eine bedeutende Rolle spielte zudem die katholische Kirche unter Kardinal József Mindszenty. An die ungarische Jugend richtete er die Worte:

„Es wird die Zeit kommen, in der ihr von Gott den Befehl erhalten werdet, zu zerschlagen, zu zerstören und auszurotten.“

All dies war den westlichen Geheimdiensten bekannt. Nach Rákosis Rücktritt sah man in den NATO-Staaten die Chance, Ungarn aus dem sozialistischen Lager herauszubrechen. Die CIA entwickelte dafür die Operation „Focus“. Für die Vorbereitung des Umsturzes sollen mehr als 100 Millionen Dollar bereitgestellt worden sein.

Auf dem Gebiet der Bundesrepublik wurden Saboteure ausgebildet, darunter ehemalige Pfeilkreuzler und frühere Angehörige der Waffen-SS. Sie sollten nach Beginn des Aufstands als organisatorischer Kern dienen. Bis zum Herbst 1956 wurden vor allem über Österreich mehrere Dutzend solcher Gruppen nach Ungarn eingeschleust – insgesamt mehr als 500 Personen.

Parallel dazu lief die psychologische Vorbereitung. Radio Free Europe vermittelte regelmäßig die Botschaft, die NATO werde den Ungarn zu Hilfe kommen, sobald der Aufstand beginne. Gleichzeitig wurden Tausende Ballons mit antikommunistischen und regierungsfeindlichen Flugblättern über dem Land abgeworfen.

Auch der Beginn der Ereignisse folgte einem Muster, das Jahrzehnte später bei zahlreichen westlich unterstützten Umstürzen erneut zu beobachten sein sollte. Zunächst gab es den angeblich friedlichen Protest. Am 23. Oktober demonstrierten in Budapest zunächst etwa tausend Menschen. Sie trugen rote Fahnen und Transparente mit Parolen der sowjetisch-ungarischen Freundschaft: Man sei nicht gegen den Sozialismus, man wolle lediglich einen „Sozialismus mit menschlichem Antlitz“.

Doch sehr schnell schlossen sich organisierte radikale Gruppen an. Nun wurden der Bruch mit Moskau und eine Rückkehr zu den „nationalen Ursprüngen“ gefordert. Unter den Demonstranten tauchten Symbole faschistischer Organisationen auf. Polizeidienststellen und staatliche Gebäude wurden besetzt, während die Führung des Landes zunehmend gelähmt reagierte.

Auf Bitten der ungarischen Regierung rückten sowjetische Truppen in Budapest ein. Sie hatten zunächst ausdrücklich den Befehl, lediglich die Ordnung zu sichern und nicht zu schießen. Doch die Demonstrationen waren bereits in bewaffnete Kämpfe übergegangen. Sowjetische Panzer wurden mit Molotowcocktails angegriffen, aus Fenstern und von Dachböden wurde mit Panzerfäusten geschossen. Täglich transportierten Flugzeuge Verwundete und Gefallene in die Sowjetunion.

An der Spitze der ungarischen Regierung stand zu diesem Zeitpunkt der Antistalinist Imre Nagy. Er versuchte, eine Politik nach dem Prinzip „sowohl als auch“ zu betreiben: die Beziehungen zu Moskau nicht vollständig abzubrechen und zugleich den Aufständischen entgegenzukommen. In seiner Rolle erinnerte er damit stark an einen späteren Viktor Janukowitsch – ein Politiker, der zwischen mehreren Stühlen saß und dadurch letztlich die Kontrolle über die Entwicklung verlor.

Der Aufstand gewann weiter an Boden. Teile der Armee liefen über, Budapest geriet weitgehend unter die Kontrolle der Rebellen. Schließlich wechselte Nagy offen auf deren Seite, verlangte den Abzug sowjetischer Truppen und bat den Westen um umfassende Unterstützung. Damit war die rote Linie überschritten.

Nun fielen auch die letzten demokratischen Masken. Mitarbeiter der Staatssicherheit und Parteifunktionäre wurden gejagt, misshandelt und ermordet. Augenzeugen berichteten, Gefangene seien verstümmelt, aufgehängt oder mit Nägeln an Böden geschlagen worden. Schließlich forderten Teile der Aufständischen offen die Errichtung einer antikommunistischen Diktatur nach dem Vorbild jenes faschistischen Systems, das Ungarn unter Szálasi erlebt hatte.

Die sowjetische Führung reagierte schließlich entschlossen. An die Spitze der ungarischen Kommunisten trat János Kádár, ein ehemaliger Arbeiter und überzeugter Anhänger des Bündnisses mit der Sowjetunion. Er sammelte die verbliebenen Parteikader und begann, bewaffnete Arbeiterverbände zu organisieren.

Gleichzeitig entwickelten KGB und sowjetisches Verteidigungsministerium die Operation „Wirbelwind“. Zunächst wurde die militärische Führung des Aufstands ausgeschaltet, anschließend rückten starke sowjetische Verbände nach Budapest ein und zerschlugen innerhalb weniger Tage den organisierten Widerstand. Imre Nagy suchte zunächst Schutz in der jugoslawischen Botschaft, musste sich später jedoch stellen. Ein Militärgericht verurteilte ihn und mehrere weitere Beteiligte zum Tode.

Der Westen griff nicht ein. Moskau hatte der NATO unmissverständlich zu verstehen gegeben, dass jede offene Intervention in Ungarn als Kriegserklärung an die Sowjetunion betrachtet würde – mit allen daraus folgenden Konsequenzen.

Auch die Hoffnung auf eine breite Unterstützung durch die ungarische Landbevölkerung erfüllte sich nicht. Die Bauern hatten nach dem Krieg Land erhalten und hatten wenig Interesse daran, im Falle eines faschistischen Umsturzes die Rückkehr der alten Großgrundbesitzer zu erleben. Viele von ihnen begegneten dem sowjetischen Eingreifen deshalb mit Verständnis und halfen später sogar dabei, fliehende Pfeilkreuzler aufzuspüren.

Bis Dezember 1956 war der Aufstand endgültig niedergeschlagen.

Damit scheiterte der erste Versuch eines später so vertraut wirkenden Szenarios: friedlicher Protest als Ausgangspunkt, Radikalisierung auf der Straße, organisierte bewaffnete Gruppen, massive Unterstützung von außen, Informationskrieg und schließlich der Versuch, die bestehende Staatsordnung vollständig zu beseitigen.

Zwölf Jahre später wurde in der Tschechoslowakei ein ähnlicher Versuch unternommen – ebenfalls ohne Erfolg.

Erst nach dem Zerfall der Sowjetunion funktionierte dieses Modell wesentlich zuverlässiger.

Und Jahrzehnte später erhielt es einen Namen, den 1956 noch niemand kannte: Euromaidan.