One of the most controversial aspects of the 1951 expulsions was that among those labelled ‘class aliens’ were many Jewish members of the upper middle class, bankers, and merchants who, within six or seven years, were facing the ‘deportation ambitions’ of a totalitarian dictatorship for the second time. It is therefore no coincidence that, according to secret service reports, many in the Pest Israelite Congregation were ‘whispering about a second deportation’. Historian Gábor Dombi has already written a book on the subject—according to his research, as many as 15 per cent of those expelled may have been of Jewish origin.[1]
Several such examples can also be cited from Budapest’s 1st District. The sufferings endured during the Second World War counted for nothing in the case of Izsó Ferenczi and his wife, Rózsa Weiss (Mrs Izsó Ferenczi), who lived at 31/a Lovas Road.
Ferenczi, of Jewish descent, had been head of the library of the Hungarian Central Statistical Office and later a ministerial councillor in the Ministry of Commerce—in 1924, the independent Hungarian customs tariff law was drafted on the basis of his work. On his mother’s side, he was descended from the famous Goldziher family. Ferenczi received the expulsion order in June 1951—just weeks before his 70th birthday—their new residence was designated as Csorvás in Békés County, and they were required to depart within 24 hours.
In his complaint letter, Ferenczi wrote: ‘I am in no way chargeable with fascist or anti-democratic activity, nor even with such inclinations. This is ruled out by my Jewish origin, my persecution, and the loss of my only son in forced labour.’ He also emphasized that he had been immediately pensioned off from his service in the Ministry of Commerce in 1938, when the antisemitic Béla Imrédy took over the government. After the ‘liberation’, he served as a member of an advisory body in the Ministry of Reconstruction and participated in the ‘Peace-Preparatory Committee’ of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Moreover, since April 1951, he had been an inpatient at the Urology Clinic of Eötvös Loránd University in Budapest, for which he produced certification. His wife was expelled, yet in July, he was still lying in the hospital. From there, he submitted a petition stating: ‘In view of the fact that I am a 71-year-old ailing man and will require aftercare for a long time, I ask the chairman of the County Council’s Executive Committee to permit me to settle in the village of Pécel together with my wife. According to the attached declaration, the council of Pécel consents to our residence in the village, and Pál Spányi, a resident of Pécel, undertakes to provide us with permanent lodging.’
When he received no reply, he urged the police—‘in the name of humanism’—to expedite the evaluation of his request. Instead, on July 25, the Ministry of the Interior instructed the district police headquarters in Gödöllő to dispatch Ferenczi by ambulance to his new residence ‘within 24 hours’ and report on the matter. He endured the journey so poorly that upon arrival, he had to be treated with penicillin; the local doctor found his condition ‘critical’. His last complaint letter was dated 17 August; it appears this, too, was filed away without response. Toward the end of his life, he was probably allowed to return to Budapest, where he died in 1958.[2]
Béla Zwack, former owner of a liqueur factory—the grandson of József Zwack, founder of the world-famous Hungarian liqueur Unicum—and his wife, Dóra Zalka (Mrs Béla Zwack), lived at 6 Fortuna Street in the Buda Castle; their expulsion order arrived on 4 July 1951. Zwack attempted to challenge the decision from several angles, first arguing that in 1944 he had been ‘hidden in the Swedish legation to escape deportation’. He further contended that ‘the Unicum liqueur factory, of which I was co-owner and production manager, I voluntarily offered to the Hungarian State in 1948 without any financial compensation. Wishing to place my knowledge and activity in the service of democracy, I am employed as a production specialist…Through this activity, I have already brought the Hungarian People’s Republic tens of thousands of dollars in profit annually and have helped enhance the foreign reputation of Hungarian industry.’
He also argued that he was 65 years old, ‘completely toothless, a patient suspected of cancer’, and suffered from ‘severe stomach, gallbladder, and nervous disorders’, all supported by medical certificates. Finally, he obtained a supporting statement from the Beer and Spirits Department of the Ministry of Food, asserting that his work served important interests of the Hungarian state. Someone later scribbled on it: ‘Discussed with Comrade Altomáré; he does not support it—he can go.’ The person in question was evidently Iván Altomáré, Deputy Minister of Food. Zwack achieved only that; instead of being expelled to Besenyőtelek in Heves County, he was relocated to Pásztó in Nógrád County.
‘He must not be allowed to come to Budapest’
From there, in 1951, he wrote that he wished to have dentures made in the capital and therefore requested permission to travel. A Ministry of the Interior bureaucrat responded in the internal correspondence: ‘I report that there is also a dentist in the village of Pásztó; therefore, I do not recommend granting the request.’ Zwack subsequently submitted several more petitions stating that his gums had completely atrophied and that he required special dentures that could not be made by a regular dentist, as he could otherwise eat only fully puréed foods. On this petition, they wrote: ‘It may be presumed that under the pretext of having his artificial teeth made, he wishes to attend to matters in Budapest.’ Then someone added in pen: ‘He must not be allowed to come to Budapest.’[3]
Finally, let us consider a case that ended more fortunately. Landowner András Klár received the order on 3 July 1951, stating that he would be expelled within 24 hours from his apartment at 1 Kaszinó Street (today Móra Ferenc Street in the Castle). His new residence was designated as Bodrogkeresztúr in Borsod County. His wife, the renowned actress Mária Lázár (née Czartoryski), indicated that her husband was ill and unable to work; moreover, he had always been left-wing, and as a person of Jewish origin ‘his lands were completely taken from him during the era of the anti-Jewish laws.’ For her part, she declared: ‘If necessary, I can prove with witnesses my conduct toward those persecuted for religious and political reasons.’
Klár and his wife were exempted from the expulsions; a commemorative plaque on the house today proclaims that the actress—who came from a Polish noble family—lived there ‘for half a century until her death’, that is, until 1983. It should be added that a left-wing past or Jewish ancestry were by no means grounds for exemption; in Klár’s case, other considerations—possibly political or personal connections—must have been at work in the background.[4] These cases highlight the cruel paradox of 1951: people who had already suffered persecution were once again uprooted by a regime that judged them by social labels rather than personal history. Their stories show how totalitarian systems can repeat the injustices of the past—and why remembering them remains essential.
[1] Dombi Gábor, Osztályellenségek. Az 1951-es budapesti kitelepítés zsidó áldozatai, Bp, NEB, 2020. See also: Veszprémy László Bernát, Hét verem. Scheiber Sándor küzdelemi a kádári állambiztonsággal, Bp, Jaffa, 2025, pp. 66–67.
[2] Állambiztonsági Szolgálatok Történeti Levéltára (Historical Archives of the State Security Services, ÁBSZTL), 2.5.6. I.s. 05034/1951.
[3] ÁBSZTL, 2.5.6. I.s. 02920/1951.
[4] ÁBSZTL, 2.5.6. I.s. 02594/1951.
Related articles:
