Although today his name is remembered only by historians and enthusiasts of television history, Péter Bokor, the film director, was nonetheless one of the key figures of 20th-century Hungarian historiography. His historical film series Századunk (Our Century)—broadcast by Hungarian Television between 1965 and 1989—and the two books that grew out of it—remain essential oral-history sources for research on the Second World War.
Bokor was born in 1924 in Kaposvár to a Jewish family: his brother fell victim to forced labour (munkaszolgálat) at the Don River, and his mother died in Auschwitz. Under the Arrow Cross rule, he himself was deported, and he was liberated in Germany. He later studied to become a pharmacist, then worked as a script editor. According to his obituary, ‘in 1958 he shot his first independent, feature-length documentary, Halálkanyar (Death Bend), about the destruction of the Second Hungarian Army at the Don.’
This is already incorrect in itself, because in 1958, Bokor did not make that film; his first work was Boszorkánykonyha (The Kitchen of Witches), an instructional film produced for the Ministry of the Interior. Although this is completely omitted from his obituaries, Bokor participated in the production of two instructional projects for Kádár’s Ministry of the Interior: in addition to the earlier piece, which he wrote and directed, he also worked on the 1966 Teenager Party (director: György Kárpáti; collaborators: Péter Bokor and the infamous ÁVH detective János Komlós).
The synopsis of the first film is listed on the website of the Historical Archives of the State Security Services as follows: ‘The first part of the documentary presents Radio Free Europe (RFE), its building, the layout of its departments, and the personnel of the Hungarian section. RFE began operating on 6 October 1951. The film describes the activities of its founders—László Béry, Emil Csonka, Pál Purgly, Julián Borsányi, and Károly Marosi—before 1945, and lists its financial supporters (members of the Crusade for Freedom). Then, based on films that had “misinformed” public opinion, it deals in detail with several historical events (Hungary’s entry into the Second World War, 23 October 1956).’
As for the other film, ‘the narrator lists those methods—according to the filmmakers—through which RFE influences young people, especially in programmes produced with the participation of “former Arrow Cross members” and “counterrevolutionaries”.’ These projects must have been considered highly important, since the sound engineer alone received 20,000 forints for Boszorkánykonyha, which was an exceptionally high payment at the time. Curiously, the fact that Bokor once made instructional films for the Kádár-era Ministry of the Interior is entirely absent from his obituaries and from the articles summarizing his life.
‘The fact that Bokor once made instructional films for the Kádár-era Ministry of the Interior is entirely absent from his obituaries’
In reality, however, he may have come into contact with the secret services even earlier than this. György Angyal, the head of MAFIRT (Hungarian Film Industry Co.)—himself Jewish and a Holocaust survivor—was taken into custody by the State Protection Authority (ÁVH) in July 1949 on suspicion of sabotage. On 7 August 1949, he died in the central prison under unclear circumstances; he allegedly committed suicide, although his death certificate lists the cause of death as ‘unknown’—it is not impossible that he was beaten to death during interrogation, as happened to so many others.
His case was reviewed in 1955 at the request of his widow, who had heard from acquaintances that her husband’s death had not been a suicide. An internal investigation was launched, during which a document noted that ‘the findings of the earlier investigation are supported by the testimony of the witnesses György Gáspár, Mrs László Bihari, Imre Popper, Jenő Lichter, Mrs János Feuer, Mrs Béla Dallos, Péter Teknős, József Pásztor, Péter Bokor, and Géza Lajos.’ At the time in question, Bokor was an employee of MAFIRT.
Angyal was eventually exhumed, but only the identity of the remains was confirmed. Several witnesses were questioned again, among them György Gáspár, who offered ‘gems’ such as the following about the proceedings six years earlier: although he stood by his earlier testimony, ‘I must note, however, that the incriminating information listed in that statement primarily reflects the fact that I knew György Angyal had been arrested by the State Protection Authority. Thus, every action of his that I had previously regarded as human error, a mistake, etc, suddenly appeared to me as a hostile act. Whether the judgments expressed in some parts of my statement—particularly those concerning his behaviour and his relations with other people—are valid depends on whether his political or economic crimes can be proven.’ This clumsy, overly cautious testimony clearly shows that the witness had no knowledge of the case at all and only testified this way under pressure.[1]
Bokor’s relationship with state security, however, becomes even clearer from the surveillance materials on Karl Münch, a West German diplomat. The Ministry of the Interior’s Subdivision III/II-2-b (counter-intelligence) opened a personal file on Münch on 3 June 1974 on the grounds that, as the deputy head of the West German embassy, he was potentially a spy.
According to the file, the diplomat was monitored under the codename ‘Egon’. Bokor’s name first appears in the file in an ‘operational action plan’ dated 24 February 1976. According to the plan prepared by Police Lieutenant György Szűcs: ‘Among “Egon’s” contacts, the name of film director Péter Bokor has come up. He has visited “Egon” on several occasions. A good relationship has developed between them. “Egon” invited him to lunch and offered the possibility of maintaining contact. We will carry out a basic background check on Péter Bokor, study his person, and, if suitable, proceed with his recruitment. Deadline: 31 May 1976.’[2]
This is followed by a summary report dated 1 December 1976, which reviewed the results obtained so far in the confidential investigation. In accordance with the procedures of the time, several parts of the document were blacked out with ink. According to the file: ‘Among “Egon’s” contacts, [redacted] has come up. He visited “Egon” on several occasions, and a good relationship developed between them. We carried out the basic background check on [redacted] and studied him. We established that Directorate III/I of the Ministry of the Interior is also studying him with the aim of recruitment. Based on the operational situation that developed, we clarified that [redacted] would be of greater use to the activities of Directorate III/I, and thus we have abandoned the plan to recruit him.’
In plain English, the text means that counter-intelligence was studying the candidate with the aim of possible recruitment, but it turned out that the same person was already being investigated by the intelligence service (the Ministry of the Interior’s Directorate III/I), and after coordination, the two sides concluded that intelligence would make better use of him. (A person could not be an agent of two directorates at the same time.)
Although the name in question has been redacted, it is striking that several sentences match word-for-word the description of Bokor above, and since such summaries often copied paragraphs from earlier materials, it is strongly presumed that the person here was indeed Bokor, considered a potential agent for the intelligence service. Even if this was the case, however, Bokor theoretically need not have known anything about it, as the background study was conducted confidentially.
The next relevant report in the file came from agent codenamed ‘Margit’, who noted that on 15 December 1976, there would be a reception at Münch’s apartment for several Hungarians working in the media sector, and that Péter Bokor would also attend. In response, counter-intelligence recorded the following action regarding the report: ‘I informed by telephone the relevant operational officer of Directorate III/I about Péter Bokor’s attendance.’ Although it is not clear why counter-intelligence considered it important to consult the intelligence service regarding Bokor’s invitation, it is certain that Bokor did attend the reception, because an agent codenamed ‘Örökös’—a woman working for counter-intelligence—was also present and listed Bokor among the guests.
Another report was produced regarding the reception in question, which answers all of our inquiries. The report was filed by Subdivision III/II-2-b of the Ministry of the Interior, but the source was not their agent; it came from Department III/I-7 of the Ministry of the Interior. (The department’s task: intelligence and subversion within Hungarian émigré organizations.) The report, dated 20 December 1976, which is worth quoting in detail, states: ‘On 15 December 1976, our social contact codenamed “Filmes” from Department III/I-7 attended a reception combined with a film screening at “Egon’s” apartment. After debriefing the contact, Lieutenant Colonel Gusztáv Simon provided the following verbal information.’
The report then listed the attendees and noted that films about the Hungarian economy and the Bavarian nuclear programme were shown at the reception. ‘Filmes’ evaluated these films and found them generally positive. ‘The third topic concerned the case of former GDR citizen Birmann. Birmann is a pop musician who defected from the GDR and is currently conducting serious propaganda against his home country, for which the GDR authorities revoked his citizenship. According to the contact, he performed a vulgar song full of statements offensive to his homeland. According to “Filmes”, it was completely clear why the GDR authorities objected to the permission for this propaganda campaign.’ The report concluded: ‘Regarding the TV series Századok, directed by “Filmes”, “Egon” made a few remarks, but these indicated that he had not seen the series’ films, and had only been informed about the subject matter by someone else.’
From the above, it is clear that ‘Filmes’ was the ‘social contact’ of the Hungarian intelligence service who attended Münch’s reception and who was also the director of the TV series Századunk—a description that fits only one person, namely Péter Bokor. Bokor was not entered into the so-called ‘agent network register’, and based on the above, he cannot legally be considered an agent; in fact, state security did not treat him as an operative, only as a ‘contact’. The report, however, makes it clear that he did provide information to the intelligence service, and even expressed negative opinions regarding the activities of a West German diplomat who trusted him and regarded him as a friend. He appears to have done more than this, as among the attachments in the file is a letter from Münch to Bokor dated 1977, which, judging by the date, was likely obtained directly from the addressee.
The above does not yet relate directly to the Századunk series, but Bokor’s historical films appear in several reports. In the ‘Egon’ file, at least one document concerned Bokor, noting that Department III/I-7 of the Ministry of the Interior had provided detailed information to Department III/II-2 about the filming of Századunk in Germany, Bokor’s contacts abroad, and how Münch came into the picture. (Münch was a friend of Heinrich Köhler, who until the summer of 1944 had been the press attaché at the German embassy in Budapest; Köhler was the link between Bokor and Münch.) This shows that both intelligence and counter-intelligence were interested in Bokor’s series.
In fact, state security had already been involved in Bokor’s historical film projects earlier. For the previously mentioned 1961 documentary Halálkanyar, Bokor contacted the Ministry of the Interior’s II/3-b subdivision agent codenamed ‘Nagy Mihály’, who was the former Colonel Géza Arday. On 25 January 1961, ‘Nagy’ reported the request and ‘asked for our opinion and approval regarding his participation in the film. I informed him that we agreed to his participation and reminded him that if he received the script, he should call me and inform me of it,’ wrote ‘Nagy’s’ handler.
The impoverished ‘Nagy’ requested firewood and medicine for his sick wife in return—the secret police only fulfilled the medicine request, so as not to give him a sense of undue confidence. The report assessed that ‘the participation of “Nagy Mihály”…will be positive for the purpose of undermining the former military officers living abroad and the ranks of the MHBK.’
The MHBK mentioned here was the Hungarian Fighters’ Comradeship Association, an extreme-right organization founded by émigré officers and, for a time, financed by Western intelligence services, which was treated as a prominent enemy by the Hungarian People’s Republic.[3] From this, it is clear that the intelligence service expected Bokor’s historical film to help undermine the émigré community and supported it in order to have their agents appear in it, while also pre-screening and approving their contributions in advance.
We also have documents regarding the making of Századunk. In an unknown year (between 1963 and 1965), the counter-intelligence agent codenamed ‘Balatoni’—who was the former Colonel Ottó Hátszegi, a notorious triple agent involved in secret negotiations during the 1940s regarding Hungary’s planned switching of sides in the war—reported that Bokor had approached him because ‘we are working on a series of film reports to be broadcast on television to document how helplessly the Kállay government [Miklós Kállay was Prime Minister of Hungary between 1942 and 1944] handled and ruined Hungary’s last chance to exit the war, while…The goal, Comrade Bokor said, is to show our audience how doomed from the start the Kállay government’s and Horthy’s attempt to break out of the war was, because on the one hand they did not pursue it sincerely, and until the last moment engaged in completely futile “swing politics” [hintapolitika]. Let the still-doubting Hungarians see the vileness and guilt of our political leaders of that time.’[4]
It is worth comparing this with what Bokor himself said publicly, namely that his aim with the series was ‘to provide an interesting, entertaining, and exciting programme, from which the context also emerges, but we would like viewers to recognize these connections on their own.’[5]
It is unclear what role ‘Balatoni’ was advised to play by his handler, but it is known that in 1982, when József Éliás, a Reformed pastor and World War II rescuer, wanted to give an interview for Bokor’s series, the interview was ‘blocked by the State Office for Church Affairs (ÁEH) and by Calvinist Bishop Tibor Bartha, because he would have used the report to criticize our current church policy as well’—at least according to agent ‘Tóth János’, another Reformed pastor. Of course, the bishop in question, Tibor Bartha, likely did not act on his own initiative, as he himself was an agent of the Ministry of the Interior, Directorate III/III, under the codename ‘Debreceni’.[6]
From ‘Tóth’s’ report, we still only learn that the State Office for Church Affairs—and likely the Ministry of the Interior—tried to block interviews they found objectionable. However, there exists an even clearer set of documents showing the BM’s involvement in the production of the Századunk series. The file, from the Historical Archives of the State Security Services’ collection of ‘background materials prepared for state security work’, is labelled ‘Materials handed over to Comrade P Bokor’ and begins as follows:
‘LIST for the production of the Hungarian Television documentary series Századunk, concerning the identification of individuals.’ This is followed by an October 1971 roster of living persons—including former gendarmes, police officers, and even an acquaintance of the interwar premier Gyula Gömbös—down to their addresses. Next to the names, it was noted whether someone was currently a Communist agent or had previously been an agent.
‘Bokor did not shy away from explicit falsification in the completed interviews’
For example, Dr Iván Szüts, who was an acquaintance of the Gömbös family, was listed with the remark: ‘excluded from our network, B-97188’. Károly Szakács was noteworthy because he had previously worked for the Hungarian State Railways; by this time, he was ‘excluded from network, file destroyed in 1956’. Emil Tamás, a detective who had once investigated the case of the infamous terrorist Szilveszter Matuska, was listed as ‘our active network, Directorate III/III-3-b’. Thus, according to the notes, the background investigation had advanced to the point that they were already checking whether there was an available agent file for the persons concerned, and if so, under which number it was registered.[7]
Bokor was likely satisfied with the material, because Dezső Radványi, head of department at Hungarian Television—and himself a former Ministry of the Interior officer—wrote a thank-you letter to Secret Service Colonel Ferenc Ács for his assistance and requested further access to state security materials. Bokor was presumably aware of this collaboration as well, since he personally signed the authorization letter for his colleague to receive copies prepared by the Ministry of the Interior.
Did Ministry of the Interior officers exert pressure on the interviewees, either by using previously known compromising information or by leveraging their status as agents? The evidence suggests that the answer to both questions is yes. For one interviewee, it was noted: ‘According to our Central Department data, János Répási had previously been punished in two criminal cases’—and these were not even war crimes, but ordinary criminal offences. Another journalist—a former Gestapo agent—was listed as part of the network. For the aforementioned Emil Tamás, whose supervising officer was one Lieutenant Colonel Gyula Harun, a handwritten note reads: ‘Colonel Ács discussed this with Col Harangozó on 23 Nov. On 24 Nov, I spoke with Lt Col Árpád Szigetvári and then with Lt Col Harun. They have no objection to the interview or to participation. We will speak to “Tőkés”—Tamás E.’ This shows that the agent’s participation was coordinated almost at the highest level—with Szilveszter Harangozó, Deputy Head of the Ministry of the Interior’s Directorate III and also head of Directorate III/III.
Finally, the file contains the full name list again on a paper with the Hungarian Television’s letterhead, marked with small checkmarks, lines, and brief letter codes—likely the first time the producers determined which individuals might be of interest for the filming. This is confirmed by the fact that the list still includes Ákos Dér, who was recorded as deceased in the Ministry of the Interior register quoted above.
Moreover, Bokor did not shy away from explicit falsification in the completed interviews. He later published several of the interviews in writing, in which he rewrote or falsified parts of them. For example, he put words into the mouth of the elderly Imre Kovács, a famous Hungarian (non-Communist) resistance fighter, claiming that before 15 October 1944, ‘the communists madly began gathering men with military experience in several factories, etc. They organized the transfer of weapons.’ In the original interview, however, these sentences do not appear—Kovács only said that, although he had heard of the Communist Party’s preparations, he had ‘no concrete knowledge’ of the matter.[8]
How, then, should we assess all this? Our subject himself offers some help. Bokor, who died in 2017, assessed his own work 20 years before his death, in 1997. At the time, he put it this way: ‘It took very hard, long, Sisyphean work for us to gain—or for me to gain—a kind of credibility…to make people believe that I would not falsify what they said, that I would not turn it against them or against the ideas they professed. And I knew perfectly well that if I ever deceived someone, if I ever twisted someone’s words, then I’d be done for—no one would ever speak to me again.’
[1] For Angyal’s file see: Állambiztonsági Szolgálatok Történeti Levéltára (Archives of the Hungarian State Security Services, hereon cited as ÁBSZTL), 2.1. I/66 (V-142750).
[2] For Münch’s file see: ÁBSZTL, 3.1.5. O-16888/1.
[3] ÁBSZTL, 3.2.3. Mt-725/3.
[4] For ‘Balatoni’, see: ÁBSZTL, 3.2.3. Mt-698/1. and 3.2.1. Bt-262/1.
[5] Magyarország, 24 Jan 1965.
[6] ÁBSZTL, 3.1.2. M-40575.
[7] For these notes see: ÁBSZTL, 4.1. A-2113/38.
[8] Ákos Bartha: Ugróiskola, Múltunk, 2023/2, p. 219.
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