In District I, particularly in the Castle area, there were numerous traffic junctions and high-priority buildings (‘objects’) that the state security services were tasked with guarding, preventing potential disturbances or assassination attempts. The data of ‘politically compromised persons’ in District I had, in fact, been kept in separate files since 1957.
In these files, it was noted that ‘the peculiarity of Budapest’s District I is that there are very few industrial sites in its territory, but in contrast, it is inhabited by a relatively large number of hostile elements belonging to various categories, especially former Horthy-era army officers, gendarmes, aristocrats, members of the state apparatus and administration of the Horthy regime, etc…The elements belonging to the above categories conduct their anti-people’s democracy activities in a highly conspiratorial manner, which makes operative reconnaissance and counterintelligence work among them difficult.’
According to the document, ‘it is primarily justified to monitor the activities of hostile elements belonging to the above categories through the agent network; furthermore, infiltration into Roman Catholic parishes, schools, cafés, restaurants, etc is also an important task.’
For this reason, the Castle District was divided into operational areas. Area I was the territory bounded by the Castle, Várfok Street, Vérmező Street, Krisztina Boulevard, and Alagút Street. Any residents of the region with prior convictions were registered, including a great many World War II criminals, ‘fascists’, former members of the Arrow Cross Party, etc.
A much more ‘sophisticated’ approach was taken by Szilveszter Harangozó, deputy head of the Ministry of Interior’s Department III/III, who, on 3 February 1969, acting on the orders of the ‘Comrade Minister of the Interior’, ordered the opening of an ‘object file’ concerning the security of a ‘high-priority object’ in District I—especially from the perspective of assassination prevention. This applied to the road tunnel located in District I and its surroundings, ie, ‘traffic hubs 7, 8, and 9.’
As he argued, the tunnel under the Castle was ‘frequently used by Comrades, Party and Government leaders as a route between their workplaces and their residences. Therefore, under the name “Traffic Hub 7”, we carry out counterintelligence work at the intersection of Krisztina Boulevard and Alagút Street.’
At the time, they believed that ‘we have no knowledge of any “gang” (galeri) activity in the area under counterintelligence surveillance and its vicinity. No political or more serious criminal offences occurred there in the past year.’
The adult population of the expanded surveillance area—a total of 326 people—was ‘prioritized’ in the Ministry of Interior’s registry system (ie, they searched for any persons with prior criminal activities). It was determined that 21 persons were listed in the Criminal Records of the National Police Headquarters, but ‘there are no repeat offenders among them’, and only three individuals had committed minor repeat offences. In addition, 16 persons were listed in the Ministry of Interior’s operative network registry, but of these, only three were deemed suitable for establishing contact.
In the area, there also lived a person with an ‘F’ file, one Lajos Ármai, a 46-year-old dental technician residing at 1 Alagút Street. An ‘F’ file meant that he was deemed so ‘dangerous’ that the secret service continuously monitored his actions, without any precipitating factor. He had been an air force lieutenant since 1943 and, in 1956, a member of a revolutionary workers’ council. In 1958, he was sentenced to seven years in prison for hiding weapons and was released on parole in 1962 under an individual pardon. His surveillance status was therefore to be reviewed, and, if deemed necessary, a proposal would be made to improve it.
Surveillance was also proposed for one Ervin Faragó, a 32-year-old driver from 57 Attila Street, who in 1966 was sentenced to eight months in prison for attempting to cross the border illegally. He had defected in 1956 and served one year in the US Army, then returned home in 1963 with official permission. Similarly, surveillance was proposed for Henrik Hámori, a 59-year-old technician (3 Alagút Street), who in 1956 had ‘incited against the communists’ and was therefore sentenced to seven months in prison. His surveillance was not closed until 1981.
Several other suspicious-sounding names were also checked—János Asbóth, an electrician, had been sentenced to one year in prison in 1948 for joining the ‘Hunyadi SS Division’ in November 1944, while János Vizi Makkai had received a sentence of one year and four months in 1967 for attempting to cross the border illegally—but it was established that the former was deceased and the latter had defected. Due to their advanced age, surveillance was waived for Imre Baglyos, a 63-year-old former Arrow Cross Party member; Mrs Pál Mravik, a 53-year-old cleaner and member of the Sisters of the Social Mission Society nun organization until 1950; and Anna Antóni, a 61-year-old cleaner who had ‘served’ in the ‘German SS’ in 1944 (most probably as a cleaning lady or a cook).
‘The political mood is appropriate; they support our system’
New residents were continuously monitored, their data prioritized in the Ministry of Interior’s registry system, and those deemed noteworthy from a counterintelligence perspective were placed under surveillance; this work was ongoing. In 1981, for example, contact was established with the managers of ‘facilities deserving attention from the perspective of preventive protection’, such as the Zöldfa Restaurant, the Alagút Wine Bar, and the Lánchíd Espresso. At this time, the review of residents was carried out again: the screening of 97 individuals—children, elderly persons, employees of the Ministry of Interior (BM) and Ministry of Defense (HM), and employees of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party (MSZMP)—was waived, but ten new ‘persons of interest’ were found in the research registry among the residents of the following buildings: 5 Lánchíd Street, 1 Hunyadi János Street, 1, 2, and 4 Alagút Street, 65 and 67 Krisztina Boulevard, and 4 and 57 Attila Street. Among them was, for example, Anna Ferenczi, born in 1921, who had previously been a member of the Sisters of Loreto nun order but ‘had not been convicted’.
Overall, they concluded that the operative situation had improved since 1969: no political or serious criminal offences had occurred, ‘the political mood is appropriate; they support our system, and their material circumstances and living conditions are average. The number of compromised persons has decreased.’ At that time, operative surveillance was carried out with the help of four ‘social contacts’, three ‘occasional contacts’, and two ‘official contacts’, almost all of whom lived on Alagút Street or Hunyadi Street. Their task was to monitor security-related events occurring in the area, as well as new residents and foreign guests. The dossier relating to the area was last updated in March 1989.
A separate file was opened for the security plan of the apartment of politician Miklós Németh, located at 35–36 Sziklai Sándor Street (today: Lovas Street), for which the Ministry of Interior’s Department III/III-A was responsible. Németh was the last Hungarian Prime Minister before the regime change, and the first head of government of the Hungarian Republic proclaimed on 23 October 1989 (for seven months, before the first democratic elections). The apartment appeared under the codename ‘Object Z–3’, and the document analysing its operative situation did not even mention the resident’s name, stating only that ‘a leading member of the Central Committee of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party lives here.’ On 15 July 1987, Department 1 of the Ministry of Interior’s ‘Government Guard’ organized external security for the object, which was provided by a motorized patrol service. The security area was defined as the territory covering 32–42 Sziklai Sándor Street, 2–8 Várfok Street, and 4–10 and 1–5/7 Mátray Street.
‘Naturally, the “problematic” individuals were also recorded, such as…József Bakonyi, who had taken part in the siege of the radio building in 1956’
According to the security plan, ‘the protected comrade leader lives in a two-story apartment building, whose residents hold various leading positions.’ The document assessed the social composition of the neighbourhood: ‘The population is heterogeneous, most of them are members of the intellectual class, a smaller portion are manual workers.’ For the purpose of assessing the general operative situation, data on the residents of the area were, of course, collected and checked—altogether 403 persons. Among them, three were identified as active network contacts and seven as inactive network contacts, and naturally the ‘problematic’ individuals were also recorded, such as István Csikós Nagy, former chairman of the Revolutionary Council in Tiszalök (for which he served two years in prison), and József Bakonyi, who had taken part in the siege of the radio building in 1956 (for which he served eight years).
According to the document, ‘the area is an integral part of the Buda Castle District, which means it is one of the most frequented points of Budapest tourism, and the presence of foreign tourists must be expected year-round.’ Therefore, the network contacts were instructed to monitor suspicious tourists, and the police were also required to pay increased attention to vehicles with Western license plates. This was still deemed insufficient, so further efforts were made to find suitable individuals for network tasks, and social contacts were established with three already identified persons. For good measure, postal employees working in the area were also checked in the Ministry of Interior’s universal registry system.
The above story illustrates how the Communist Hungarian state security meticulously monitored District I, including high-profile political figures, ordinary residents, and public spaces. Residents, businesses, and even foreign visitors were catalogued, assessed, and placed under surveillance based on their perceived political reliability. This extensive, decades-long system reflects the regime’s pervasive fear of dissent and its determination to control both people and urban spaces.
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