Recently, in connection with a fascinating book by historian Gábor Ujváry, we raised the question: can an antisemite also be a rescuer of Jews at the same time? This question is particularly important in the context of 20th-century Hungarian history, as it can be misleading that most rescuers of Jews are imagined as social democrats, communists, or perhaps members of the Smallholders’ Party. In reality, the rescue of the persecuted was a far more diverse phenomenon, stemming from very different motivations, and its evaluation was far from uniform after the Second World War.
One could write at length about such walking contradictions. Beyond those mentioned in Ujváry’s book—Bálint Hóman, Ferenc Zsindely, János Makkai, Miklós Mester, and Gábor Kemény—László Budaváry and Father István Zadravecz also held similar positions. An even more peculiar case, however, is that of Ferenc Fiala, whose activities of this kind, to the best of my knowledge, have not yet been properly explored in either scholarly or popular works.[1] His case is particularly remarkable, as Fiala is primarily known as the editor of the Arrow Cross newspaper Összetartás, and after 15 October 1944, as the ‘press chief’ of the Arrow Cross dictator Ferenc Szálasi—to be more precise, the head of the press department of the Prime Minister’s Office.
Fiala was born in 1904 in Kolozsvár (today: Cluj-Napoca, Romania). He earned a degree in engineering, but early reports mentioned him primarily for his fencing career: from 1927 to 1944 he was a fencer for the Hungarian Athletic Club (MAC); in 1930 he became a university champion as part of the sabre team and placed second individually; in 1932 and 1933 he was also a member of the Hungarian champion sabre team. He stood 180 cm tall, muscular and handsome—gushed a contemporary tabloid. In 1940, he served for a year and a half in the military with the rank of sergeant.
His encounter with the National Socialist movement was largely due to his sporting career and difficult financial circumstances: unable to find work as an engineer, he turned to journalism and found employment in the sports section of the far-right Új Magyarság. In this capacity, he met Fidél Pálffy, organizer of the Hungarian Nazi party. By 1938, he had moved from Pálffy’s movement to the Arrow Cross Party, and he even received a prison sentence for his articles published in Összetartás. His writings were extremely pro-Nazi, antisemitic, and pro-Arrow Cross—hardly surprising from an Arrow Cross editor.
‘His writings were extremely pro-Nazi, antisemitic, and pro-Arrow Cross’
During the German occupation of 1944, the Arrow Cross found themselves in a forced observer role until 15 October. Following the failed attempt to exit the war, they seized power, and the new government took its place in the Sándor Palace: Szálasi became both prime minister and head of state (holding a new title, Nemzetvezető, or ‘Leader of the Nation’), with Jenő Szöllősi as his deputy. After the war, Fiala was arrested in the West and extradited to Hungary, where he was brought before a so-called people’s court.
Testimonies from the trial reveal that although the Arrow Cross attempted to dismiss part of the old staff of the Prime Minister’s Office without severance pay, Fiala insisted on the payments being made—something later confirmed by those concerned. The former fencer turned press chief was described by colleagues as a reserved, moderate man whose behaviour bore little resemblance to the radical articles he had written.
Fiala’s trial took place on January 22, 1946, before the Budapest People’s Court, presided over by the notorious Gusztáv Tutsek. Interestingly, Fiala pleaded guilty and made no attempt to deny that he had written the extremist articles mentioned in the indictment. His defence was as follows:
‘I was primarily interested in the social aspects of the National Socialist movement. Every second issue of Összetartás was confiscated because I dared to point out the problems of feudalism, big capital, and the peasant question, and I attacked reaction and the high clergy…The problems outlined above were 80–90 per cent also Jewish questions, but even in this respect I did not attack poor Jews, but Jewish big capitalists such as Ferenc Chorin and Manfréd Weiss…That I wrote against the ruling classes is also shown by the fact that when revising my book on the Social Democratic Party…it was objected that I criticized the ruling classes in a strong tone.’
In reference to the above, it should be noted that while Arrow Cross propaganda did indeed criticize the Catholic Church and large landowners, claiming that 90 per cent of the ‘ruling classes’ in the 1940s were Jewish is a gross exaggeration. Moreover, Weiss—who was in fact socially sensitive—had died in 1922, so Fiala could not have criticized him in the 1940s. Fiala also argued that after 15 October he had banned antisemitism in the press, an argument that is plainly absurd: one need only open any issue published after the Arrow Cross coup to find crude antisemitic invective.
‘His waiting room was constantly full of Jews awaiting assistance’
Far more interesting are the defence witnesses who testified to Fiala’s efforts to help the persecuted. Pálma Kövesi stated that at the Prime Minister’s Office, ‘his waiting room was constantly full of Jews awaiting assistance. Among them were Pál Komáromy, and also the widow of Dezső Kosztolányi, and many others. The head of the Swedish legation also visited him several times to request protection for Jews under Swedish protection…The results of these interventions are well known.’ According to her, the protection letters he issued stated that if any authority took coercive action against the protected person, the Prime Minister’s Office had to be notified. Komáromy, a Jewish-born opera singer, had previously received exemption from the Regent Horthy, but the Arrow Cross ignored such exemptions. Fiala therefore issued him a document stating that the Jewish opera singer was an ‘old Arrow Cross party member.’
According to the testimony of press entrepreneur Róbert Berkes, he approached Fiala through an acquaintance because his wife was of Jewish origin, and the Arrow Cross no longer made distinctions for those in mixed marriages. ‘He offered his holiday home in Gárdony for my wife’s use. He did all this without any compensation.’ He attempted to explain the contradiction as follows: ‘It is certain that the defendant’s worldview was far-right, but I always considered him an idealist who unwaveringly followed what he believed in and could not be diverted from his principles. He was incorruptible in material matters.’
Zoltán Borbély, a Christian journalist, testified that years earlier Fiala had attacked him in the press for being pro-Jewish, leading Borbély to demand satisfaction through a duel, the mark of which he bore for the rest of his life. Despite this earlier conflict, Fiala later hid him in his holiday home in Gárdony when it became known that the Germans intended to arrest him.
Artúr Radó, of Jewish origin, knew Fiala from university sports. According to his testimony, during the Arrow Cross period Fiala ‘received me kindly and offered to issue a letter of protection for me.’ However, Radó instead sought a safe-conduct from the party prosecutor’s office, which Fiala unsuccessfully tried to obtain.
Fencer István Fodor, son of the renowned Jewish fencing master Károly Fodor, testified that Fiala had been his student for ten years, and after the German occupation he sought his help. Although his testimony was somewhat chaotic, he clearly stated that ‘the defendant helped me’ and that during an Arrow Cross raid at the Hungária Hotel he was not taken away thanks to his exemption. He also added that he had offered Fiala a gold bracelet, which Fiala refused.
László Urbach, a former classmate of Fiala, stated: ‘After 15 October, the Arrow Cross wanted to arrest me as a person of Jewish origin, but I escaped. However, my wife and family were arrested. I turned to the defendant for help, and he had them released from the custody of the political police…Out of gratitude, I offered him a car, which he refused.’ He too reflected on the contradiction: ‘I thought a great deal about how to reconcile the fact that the defendant proclaimed the most extreme antisemitism in the press and did the exact opposite in practice.’
Fiala wished to call more witnesses—his submission listed 15 names—but it seems the people’s court found the above mentioned testimonies sufficient. In his final statement, he said he had not been driven by a lust for power and that he had suffered a ‘moral breakdown’ because he could not support the anti-Jewish measures of the Szálasi government. He emphasized that he had always been poor and had never accepted bribery, and therefore requested a lenient sentence.
‘Ironically, the judges showed no interest in the fact that he had saved Jews’
The people’s court initially sentenced Fiala to life imprisonment with forced labour. However, the communist and social democratic memers of the jury issued a dissenting opinion, arguing that he deserved death. In the second instance, the National Council of People’s Courts changed the sentence to death but deemed him worthy of clemency. Ironically, the judges showed no interest in the fact that he had saved Jews; instead, they considered him deserving of mercy because he came from a poor background and had always been socially sensitive. In March 1946, the President of the Republic commuted his sentence to life imprisonment with forced labour. He was released in 1956 and emigrated to the West.
Fiala appears to have remained a pro-Nazi and antisemite until the end of his life: together with Lajos Marschalkó he co-authored the antisemitic book Vádló bitófák in 1958, and he wrote numerous other anti-Jewish (neo-Nazi) articles. He died in 1988 in Saarbrücken, leaving behind a complex, at times almost inexplicable—but undoubtedly largely dark—legacy.
In the end, Ferenc Fiala’s story resists simple moral judgment, revealing how ideology, ambition, and personal conscience could collide in deeply unsettling ways—yet it also forces us to confront the fact that, despite his acts of rescue, he remained a committed Nazi to the end.
[1] For all quotes from Fiala’s trial see: Budapest Főváros Levéltára, VII.5.e.1950.3919. A passing reference can be made to Krisztián Ungváry’s article in the 5 July 2003 issue of Népszabadság, in which he incorrectly claims that 1. Fiala was initially sentenced to death, 2. that he protected Jenő Heltai, and 3. that his sentence was commuted because of his rescue activities.
Related articles:
At a time when public debate is increasingly polarized and superficial, Hungarian Conservative remains committed to depth, intellectual honesty, and independent conservative thought.
Producing high-quality journalism requires resources. Your contribution helps us expand our coverage, reach new audiences, and keep our content accessible.
Please consider supporting our mission.
