Exactly 50 years ago, on 30 September 1975, Malév Flight 240—a scheduled Budapest–Beirut flight—crashed near the coast of Lebanon. As is known, all 50 passengers and the ten crew members on board lost their lives in the tragedy, the causes of which remain the subject of speculation to this day.

Although the daily press occasionally publishes articles on the topic, with varying degrees of depth, no historical study has yet been written about it. Numerous theories circulate online about the air disaster: some suggest that weapons being transported by the Hungarian People’s Republic to Lebanon may have exploded; others believe the plane might have been accidentally or deliberately shot down by one of the warring parties in the Lebanese Civil War; some propose it was an act of sabotage; and there are even claims that Israel might have shot down the aircraft.

Lost Documents

Clarity is not helped by the fact that on 27 September 2007, then-Hungarian Minister without Portfolio György Szilvásy, responsible for overseeing the civilian intelligence services, wrote a letter to Fidesz MP Róbert Répássy. In response to Répássy’s question—‘Are there any classified documents related to the Malév Budapest–Beirut flight 204 [sic!] that crashed in 1975?’—the minister replied that the National Security Office had prepared two reports on the accident in 2003. These reports (which remain classified) were summarized by the minister as follows: ‘no other documents on this subject can be found’, and ‘the heads of the civilian national security services have repeatedly confirmed this.’ He also stated that ‘the investigation could not determine the cause of the disaster and found no evidence that the Malév aircraft was subjected to any external act of violence.’

Contrary to Szilvásy’s claim, archival documents on the matter do in fact exist—including some in the archives of the intelligence services themselves (the Historical Archives of the State Security Services). Additional related documents can also be found in the Hungarian National Archives and even in foreign collections. In what follows, we examine the subject through the lens of these various sources, presenting what further details can be learnt about the history of the tragedy.

The Official Investigation: ‘no further findings can be expected’

The first obvious source is the investigative report prepared for the government of György Lázár, which was meant to explain the causes of the tragedy. According to the minutes of the Council of Ministers, the results of the investigation were first presented to the government on 9 October 1975. The briefing was delivered by Kálmán Ábrahám, State Secretary of the Ministry of Transport and Post. According to the oral report: ‘the aircraft departed on schedule with all necessary conditions duly ensured. The plane approached Beirut airport on time. Shortly before landing—according to eyewitness accounts—a flash and an explosion were observed over the sea at an altitude of about 1,000 meters, after which the aircraft crashed into the sea.’

He then listed the nationalities of the victims and continued: ‘Two committees were set up to investigate the circumstances of the disaster: one composed of Soviet and Hungarian experts, which immediately travelled to the scene, and another tasked with examining domestic circumstances, which conducted its investigation at Malév. The committee that travelled to the site was able to carry out its work only under very limited conditions. Taking into account the testimony heard, the committee assumes that the aircraft parts that fell into the sea are likely at a depth of about 500 metres. Despite interventions by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and personal efforts made through private contacts, the Lebanese aviation authorities, due to the situation there, provided only minimal assistance. The Lebanese aviation authorities informed the investigating committee that the control tower recording tape, which could have provided crucial evidence and should have been functioning automatically, did not record the communication with the aircraft on that one channel—even though 11 of the 12 channels of the recording equipment were functioning normally. The placement and proper preservation of the bodies and body parts recovered from the water, as well as of the wreckage and other objects, were not duly ensured by the Lebanese authorities.’

He then moved on to the results of the Hungarian investigation: ‘Within Malév’s organization and operations, no disruption occurred as a result of the disaster. Although both socialist and capitalist countries continued operating their flights before and after the day of the tragedy, the Ministry of Transport and Post [KPM] immediately suspended the Malév service to Beirut. Due to the lack of working conditions on site and renewed fighting, the Soviet and Hungarian investigation committee suspended its work at the request of the Lebanese authorities and returned home on 7 October. The continuation of the investigation could take place depending on the willingness of the Beirut authorities and the development of local conditions. The committee investigating domestic circumstances will soon complete its work. According to its findings so far, no irregularities occurred that could have caused the accident.’

Following the briefing, after a debate, the Council of Ministers resolved that ‘it will approach the Lebanese state authorities at a higher level than before in order to ensure that the investigation can continue, that the necessary conditions for this are provided, and that the wreckage of the aircraft, as well as the washed-ashore luggage, clothing, body parts, etc, are properly secured for the purposes of further examination. The domestic investigation must be concluded as soon as possible, and the Ministry of Transport and Post should issue a brief factual statement about its findings through the Information Office.’^[1]

On 22 October, the topic resurfaced at the Council of Ministers, with Kálmán Ábrahám once again presenting: ‘The findings of the internal investigation are stated in a single sentence in the report, and nothing further can be established. Our agent in Beirut has reported that the Lebanese government, depending on the normalization of the situation, is prepared to take steps to recover the wreckage and has initiated talks with a British company for this purpose. However, this has not yet taken place. Until the wreckage is recovered, no further findings can be expected.’ This was followed by a proposal of the infamous György Aczél, who suggested that ‘the Council of Ministers take note of the contents of the report, with the Ministry of Transport and Post informing the public on the basis of the available data.’ A few pages later, as a sort of appendix, came what was essentially a one-sentence report ‘on the domestic investigation into the Malév aircraft disaster near Beirut’, which read: ‘The investigation found that the domestic preparations for the flight were carried out properly and that the flight crew members were well prepared and in appropriate condition.’^[2]

Compared to the domestic (Malév) investigation’s conclusion that everything was in order, it is a fact that on 5 November 1975—barely a month and a half after the disaster—Ábrahám delivered another report titled Personnel Changes in Malév Management, which revealed that, in accordance with a ‘previously adopted’ Council of Ministers resolution, ‘the necessary personnel changes at Malév and the Air Traffic Directorate are underway’, affecting the positions of Malév’s CEO and the Director General of Civil Aviation.^[3]

Indeed, according to the 1 December 1975 issue of the journal Közlekedés: ‘while recognizing their merits, the minister relieved György Lénárt from his position as Malév CEO and Ádám Domokos from his post as Technical Director. The minister appointed József Jávor as Malév CEO, and József Fazekas as Deputy CEO and Technical Director.’ The article fairly clearly hinted at the rationale behind the decision, including lines such as ‘overall, Malév achieved good economic results; however, it is necessary that the leadership and management bodies in civil aviation continuously and adequately ensure the conditions for flight safety’, and ‘establishing flight safety takes precedence over all other tasks’, among others.

The Embassy of the Hungarian People’s Republic in Beirut Reports…

The above can be partially supplemented with documents from the Hungarian People’s Republic’s embassy in Beirut. The materials covering the period in question are quite chaotic, as a civil war had been raging in Lebanon since the spring of 1975, affecting the capital as well. Embassy staff were essentially unable to leave their accommodations and the embassy building, gunfire was ongoing throughout the city, and diplomats from other countries were repeatedly assaulted. At one point, members of the Hungarian embassy began burning documents, fearing that their building might soon be attacked. These reports help provide context for Ábrahám’s statement above, that the members of the Hungarian–Soviet investigation committee were unable to carry out substantive work.

On 26 September 1975, acting chargé d’affaires Béla Havasi reported that on the 25th he had visited Abu Adnan, the deputy leader of the Palestinian Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, who told him that, according to their informants, ‘in the coming days a shipload of Hungarian weapons and ammunition will arrive in Lebanon’, destined for the Phalangists. Abu Adnan indicated that, to their knowledge, the Hungarian government supported their cause rather than that of the opposing Phalangists, and therefore he considered the report impossible, speculating instead that ‘this concerns the shipment of weapons previously sold to the Lebanese army, which they are now trying to play into the hands of the Phalangists.’^[4]

Thus, the report, written four days before the disaster, refers to a ‘current shipment’, and although Havasi informed his interlocutor that ‘based on the information at my disposal’ the entire rumour was disinformation, he still ‘requested the Headquarters, for security’s sake, to telegraphically provide information on any relevant domestic knowledge and possible actions, after consulting the competent authorities.’ It is worth noting that Abu Adnan spoke of shipments arriving by sea—below, this information will be compared with other primary sources.

Unfortunately, the document did not specify which weapons were involved, but shortly afterwards, on 13 November 1975, the Progressive Socialist Party in Lebanon recorded their ‘request regarding weapons purchases’, asking for ‘the fastest possible response’. According to the list, their request at that time was as follows: 40 heavy machine guns of the DsHK type with 400,000 rounds of ammunition, 75 60-millimeter mortars with 10,000 shells, 8 120-millimeter mortars with 2,000 shells, 42 82-millimeter mortars with 5,000 shells, 16 75-millimeter mortars with 4,000 shells, 180 B7 anti-tank grenade launchers with 2,000 grenades, 300 ‘Zabrovka’ and 300 ‘Dokturyev’-type submachine guns with a total of 300,000 rounds, 200 scoped sniper rifles with 200,000 rounds, 400 ‘improved automatic pistols equipped with grenade launchers, with the necessary ammunition’, 5 tons of TNT, and 200 infrared scopes.^[5]

Someone wrote in pen on the note: ‘We are not dealing with this! We await a response from our higher authorities!’ This clearly applied only to the Foreign Ministry, because the response eventually appears to have been positive. According to a 1 December memo titled Internal Situation in Lebanon (Weapons Request), ‘on Saturday, General R A summoned [us] and stated that, under the indicated conditions, he was ready to purchase the requested weapons. At his request, I arranged a meeting between our military attaché, the representative of TECHNIKA, and his delegate, during which the terms of shipment were discussed.’^[6]

On 11 December, a note recorded that, to fulfil Kamal Jumblatt’s request, the founder of the Progressive Socialist Party stated: ‘I recommend that an envoy from TECHNIKA or another authority travel here for a few days on one of the Malév special flights arriving in Beirut next week, in order to quickly conduct the necessary negotiations.’^[7] The shipment was finally approved by the Hungarian Defence Committee under decision 4/263/1975, although in a much smaller quantity—3,000 AK-63 submachine guns, 2 million rounds of 7.62 mm AK ammunition, 5 tons of TNT, 1,000 ‘TAT’-type engineer detonators, and 2,000 meters of fuse cord.^[8]

‘It was out of the question that anyone would have “ventured” to transport weapons to the warring parties on civilian flights’

A few remarks on the above: the so-called ‘TECHNIKA’ was the Technika Foreign Trade Company, operating as a front for the Hungarian People’s Army, which handled the arms shipments, usually through MAHART, the Hungarian Shipping Company. György Lénárt Jr, son of Malév CEO György Lénárt, told Magyar Nemzet in 2005 that, in his view, it was out of the question that anyone would have ‘ventured’ to transport weapons to the warring parties on civilian flights.^[9] This assessment was probably generally correct. However, according to a report by Commercial Advisor at the Hungarian embassy in Beirut László Kristóf, dated 27 November 1975: ‘From mid-September to early November the Beirut port was completely closed, and has now resumed operations with greatly reduced capacity. During the port closure, ships bound for Lebanon—in accordance with international regulations—unloaded their cargo in Greek, Yugoslav, Cypriot, and Italian ports.’^[10] It is therefore clear that arms shipments—if they indeed existed in September 1975 as Abu Adnan reported—could not have arrived by sea.

Finally, it is worth noting that the Beirut embassy’s files contain a 25 February 1976 letter from the aforementioned Kálmán Ábrahám to Deputy Foreign Minister Róbert Garai, stating that the investigation into the crash of Malév Flight 240 ‘was completed by the Lebanese aviation authorities on 16 February 1976—with the involvement of the Hungarian investigation committee and Soviet aircraft manufacturing experts—and a final report was prepared. Considering the conclusion of the crash investigation and the beginning stabilization of Lebanon’s internal political situation, the resumption of the Beirut Malév flight was raised for discussion.’

After listing which countries continued to operate flights to Lebanon, the letter noted that ‘Head of the Hungarian Investigation Committee and Departmental Director at the Ministry Comrade László Jánovszky held discussions regarding the resumption of the flight with the Hungarian chargé d’affaires in Lebanon Comrade Béla Havasi and with the head of the Lebanese aviation authority. Based on these discussions, the preliminary opinion was formed that the resumption of this flight should be considered, subject to a few restrictive conditions, such as ensuring that the flight arrives in and departs from Beirut during daylight hours, and more closely inspecting baggage departing from Hungary, etc.’^[11]

The above letter could even be interpreted as suggesting that the investigation committee considered the possibility that there was something in the ‘baggage departing from Hungary’ that did not belong there. However, it also contains general instructions, such as that the flight should operate during daylight hours, which clearly could have no connection to any act of sabotage. It is therefore more likely that Ábrahám was simply listing general measures intended to reassure the Malév crew, either in the report itself or in subsequent announcements.

Agents on Board

In addition to the above, it is worth examining the holdings of the Historical Archives of the State Security Services. The very first Hungarian intelligence document on the subject that has survived is found in the first volume of the operational dossier codenamed ‘Flamingó’, which collected materials related to the Hungarian embassy in Beirut. According to this, on 15 October 1975, Department III/I-11 (Intelligence) of the Ministry of the Interior recorded the following:

‘In open telegram [no] 744, press agency material was reported, against which Kassar, Malév’s chief representative, intends to file a lawsuit, claiming that the report damages his reputation and causes financial harm. However, he requests confirmation that no such message exchange occurred between the pilot and Nocosia [sic! Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus—L B V], so that in case of a lawsuit, Nicosia cannot provide contradictory evidence. Additionally, Kassar suggests that he may, at his own expense, file a lawsuit against the Lebanese civil aviation authority, primarily on the grounds of negligence regarding the tape recording, to determine whether the recording was intentionally destroyed. As the Lebanese Attorney General is a good friend, he is willing to conduct a thorough investigation. Kassa [sic!] requests the opinion of the Hungarian committee and the relevant authorities on whether he can initiate this lawsuit immediately. Waiting too long is not possible, because according to regulations, the tape recordings from September will be destroyed in a month. Note: Through his contacts, Kassar is actively pursuing the matter and urging the Lebanese authorities to continue the investigation. I recommend that we respond to the above two questions as soon as possible.’^[12]

The above document shares several important pieces of information. First, it reveals that there was a communiqué reporting on—or noting the absence of—a message exchange between the aircraft and Nicosia air traffic control, which Adnan Kassar, Malév’s head in Lebanon, took issue with. It is not entirely clear what this is concerned with—no such article appears in the contemporary Hungarian press, although perhaps he was referring to some foreign news agency report. Even there, we only found articles stating that the air traffic controller at Beirut airport was unable to establish contact with the aircraft. However, the narrative that, by coincidence, communication specifically with the Malév plane failed to be recorded in Beirut was evidently disputed locally by individuals familiar with the matter.

In the dossier, there is at least one more valuable document, in which, on 20 October 1975—less than a month after the event!—information was recorded regarding ‘the security situation of our foreign mission’. The author was evidently a member of the intelligence station (the so-called rezidentúra) working undercover at the embassy. According to the report, the local Hungarian community experienced only a single ‘provocation’ that year, when in August 1975 a minor bomb attack targeted a Lebanese–Hungarian cheese company—but this was directed not at Hungary itself, but at the Lebanese co-owner.^[13]

What is intriguing is that the incident involving the Malév aircraft was not mentioned. Perhaps they were simply negligent, but it is questionable how such a significant event could be forgotten less than a month afterwards. One might interpret the report as pertaining only to the embassy, yet the Lebanese–Hungarian cheese company also affected the broader Hungarian community in the country, not just the embassy, making it logical that the aircraft incident—if it had involved an attack—should have been reported. Similarly puzzling is why the incident does not appear in Béla Havasi’s report of 24 March 1976, titled Report on the Security Situation of Our Foreign Mission, or another report dated 16 May 1977, Experiences from Work during Crisis and the Lebanese Civil War, which was evidently prepared by the intelligence station. (Both reports, fully intact, are found in the dossiers codenamed ‘Tiger’, concerning the ‘general agent situation’ in Lebanon.^[14])

In the second volume of the dossier codenamed ‘Flamingó’, we come across another valuable report. According to it, on 1 December 1975, the intelligence station reported that ‘Ibrahim Murr travelled to Budapest in August 1975 for an internship at Egyesült Izzó. Murr was a graduate student at the American University of Beirut, and his father had been an agent of Tungsram in Beirut for years. We recommended establishing contact with him for the purpose of gaining information regarding the American University. Murr was on the Malév aircraft that suffered the accident in Beirut on 30 September 1975, and lost his life in the disaster.’^[15] This is undoubtedly an intriguing document, as it not only shows that in December the Hungarian intelligence service treated the incident as an ‘accident’, but also indicates that at least one of the Arab passengers was a potential agent for Hungarian intelligence, and apparently contact had already been established with him earlier.

‘The narrative that, by coincidence, communication specifically with the Malév plane failed to be recorded in Beirut was evidently disputed’

However, he was not the only Hungarian network operative on the flight. In the work dossier of the agent codenamed ‘Léna’, used for spying within Malév and controlled by Department III/II of the Ministry of the Interior (Counterintelligence), the following report appears: one of the flight attendants on the ill-fated aircraft boasted at their workplace that he or she ‘plays an important role and carries out significant assignments for the Ministry of the Interior.’ This information was confirmed by the workplace supervisor of ‘Léna’. A note by ‘Léna’s’ handler added that they had indeed discussed the person in question with a senior Malév official, meaning that the individual’s covert status may have been exposed.^[16]

Finally, it is worth noting that in the dossier codenamed ‘Asszi’, which collected documents concerning the protection of the Hungarian community in Lebanon, the aforementioned Adnan Kassar appears again. Kassar, president of the Beirut Chamber of Commerce, also served as Malév’s chief representative in Beirut. According to a March 1972 report by Department III/I-11 (Intelligence) of the Ministry of the Interior, Kassar was considered an agent of the Americans who regularly passed the passenger list of the Budapest–Beirut flight to US authorities. The brief report notes that further information would be obtained, and the relevant officials of MNVK-2 (Hungarian military intelligence) would be informed.^[17]

America Investigates

The above information is particularly interesting because the US National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) holds numerous diplomatic cables mentioning Malév Flight 240. It is worth noting that, although NARA archivists digitized nearly 1.7 million diplomatic cables from Secretary of State Kissinger’s tenure (the so-called ‘Kissinger cables’) in 2006, these are very difficult to search on NARA’s outdated and non-user-friendly website. The same material was, however, uploaded to WikiLeaks in 2013, in a much more searchable, text-based format. Moreover, according to some reports, portions of the cables have since been reclassified at NARA and again restricted from researchers (I was unable to locate the originals of several documents cited here on NARA’s site). Therefore, the citations that follow are drawn from the WikiLeaks website.

The cables cited here primarily document communications between the US State Department and its embassies in Beirut and Budapest. The earliest cables simply record the basic facts of the disaster and clarify a few rumours—for example, that contrary to initial reports, the flight did not depart from Paris.

Of particular interest is a cable dated 11 October 1975, sent from the US embassy in Beirut to the State Department regarding the ‘Hungarian airline crash’. The cable begins by noting that the Hungarian–Soviet investigation had not yet concluded, but states that ‘several embassy officers who live near the shore area claim that the volume of noise involved and the amount of reverberations would indicate an explosion rather than a mere crash on water.’ According to the cable, the Hungarian–Soviet investigative team was surprised that the Lebanese government had not conducted autopsies on the bodies ‘to determine whether the plane exploded before the crash’. Finally, the cable cites the French-language press in questioning how it was possible that only the conversation involving this aircraft failed to be recorded. The author of the cable was US Ambassador to Lebanon G McMurtrie Godley.

Even more intriguing is the 15 October 1975 cable sent from the Budapest embassy to the State Department. The text is worth quoting almost in full:

‘Budapest buzzes with a variety of reports on the probable cause of the Malév crash. Emboffs have heard reports that a bomb was on board and that the plane was “shot down”. Ferihegy airport chief (Tomashowski) told British milatt that the Beirut airport tapes were “inoperable”. Malév chief stewardess confided to this embassy’s air attaché that Malév employees have been told not to discuss the accident.’

The cable then noted that the aircraft was allegedly a Soviet Aeroflot plane, and that its registration number was not yet known. This was followed by another interesting paragraph:

‘Although the embassy was unable to obtain the passenger list for the ill-fated flight, we have been told reliably that, besides the crew, there was only one other Hungarian national aboard and that among the passengers were numerous PLO members returning to Lebanon after the opening ceremonies for the PLO office here.’

This was followed by the comment: ‘Hungarian sensitivity to loss of aircraft may well stem from one or all of following: A) Malév has now lost six aircraft in little over two years; B) Aircraft belonged to Soviets and presumably will have to be replaced; and C) Hungarians are edgy over PLO implications, particularly if they suspect that there actually was explosion prior to crash into sea.’ The author of the cable was US Ambassador Eugene McAuliffe.

A few comments on the above: press reports did indeed cover the opening of a PLO (Palestine Liberation Organization) office in Budapest. However, all sources agree that no Palestinians were on the aircraft, which can be easily verified since the relatively minor Palestinian officials mentioned in the press continued to appear in reports for years afterwards, meaning they could not have been on the flight that crashed. Regarding point B, no other sources indicate that the plane belonged to the Soviets.

On 21 November 1975, a cable from Budapest once again addressed the flight. It stated that ‘rumours of top-management shake-up at Hungarian Airlines (Malév) have been circulating for about three weeks (since release of official report covering 30 September crash near Beirut).’ The cable treated as fact that the new top executives ‘will come from the military’. According to the cable: ‘morale at Malév has been terrible, and worse since the 30 September crash—never satisfactorily explained to most Malév employees.’ This strongly reinforces our earlier impression that the reshuffling of Malév’s leadership was indeed connected to the tragedy.

Finally, it is worth quoting a cable from 9 October 1975, sent by US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger to the American embassies in Budapest and Beirut on the topic of the ‘Hungarian airline crash’. The brief message read: ‘Dept would appreciate any info posts able to obtain for FAA [Federal Aviation Administration] as to whether the subject crash resulted from an explosion on board the aircraft. This info will be used in the FAA’s air security programme.’ The cable itself already presupposes that Kissinger had received reports suggesting that an explosion likely occurred on the plane. His information presumably came from US intelligence, which has reporting obligations to the Secretary of State on relevant matters. Considering that Hungarian counterintelligence believed the Americans had agents within Malév, specifically in its Beirut office, it is plausible to infer the source of their information.

Later, the US embassy in Budapest apparently treated the explosion as a fact: according to a 7 May 1976 cable, US diplomat Robert C Mudd spoke with the secretary of the Syrian embassy in Budapest, who ‘quickly and strongly denied that PLO had a training camp just outside of Szentendre and that Malév Hungarian airliner which exploded and crashed into the sea off Beirut several months ago carried many PLO members returning from Hungary.’ The wording here refers to the explosion in the past tense, no longer in a conditional form.

Concluding Remarks

The above naturally does not allow for a full reconstruction of the Malév 240 tragedy, but at least it provides insight into the disaster and the subsequent investigation(s) based on primary archival sources. It is, of course, possible that further archival research could uncover additional documents; I can only encourage researchers to engage with the topic. Contrary to the 2007 statement by György Szilvásy, there are indeed archival sources on the matter, and the declassification of these documents is ongoing—for this article, we also reviewed dossiers whose ‘secret’ classification was only lifted by the Hungarian Information Office in 2016, 2019, or even 2020.

‘Contrary to the 2007 statement by György Szilvásy, there are indeed archival sources on the matter’

The author’s personal view is that research would obviously benefit if the MNVK-2 archives (ie, the Hungarian military intelligence service of the Kádár era) were finally made accessible, since Malév was essentially a ‘field of operations’ for MNVK-2. A contemporary report notes: ‘The environment surrounding the current director of Malév consists of officers or employees of the BM and MNVK-2.’ A more precise assessment would be that virtually the entire management of this state-owned company was subordinated to military intelligence and counterintelligence (MNVK-2, with BM’s III/IV group operating under it), making it highly likely that more could be learned about the disaster from this—as yet—inaccessible archive.

In the absence of these sources, all that remains certain is what was known before: on 30 September 1975, Malév Flight 240 crashed into the sea near Beirut, and all 60 passengers and crew lost their lives.

[1] Magyar Nemzeti Levéltár Országos Levéltára (hereon cited as MNL OL), XIX-A-83-a-175–581.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] MNL OL XIX-J-1-j-1975-j-93-Libanon-IV.93.doboz. 005138.

[5] Ibid, 005138/1.

[6] Ibid, 005138/4.

[7] Ibid, 005138/5.

[8] MNL OL XIX-J-1-j-1976-j-93-Libanon-IV.93.doboz. 001877/2.

[9] Magyar Nemzet, 30 September, 2005, p. 5.

[10] MNL OL XIX-J-1-j-1975-j-93-Libanon-IV.93.doboz. 006021.

[11] MNL OL XIX-J-1-j-1976-j-93-Libanon-IV.93.doboz. 001851.

[12] Állambiztonsági Szolgálatok Történeti Levéltára (hereon cited as ÁBSZTL), 3.2.5. O-8-418/1, 370.

[13] Ibid, 373–375.

[14] ÁBSZTL, 3.2.5. O-8-427, 80–85, 90–105.

[15] ÁBSZTL, 3.2.5. O-8-418/2, II/26.

[16] ÁBSZTL, 3.1.2. M-39955, 70.

[17] ÁBSZTL, 3.2.5. O-8-440/1, 21.

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