Itt-Ott, 1989 (22. évfolyam, 1/110-4/113. szám)

1989 / 1. (110.) szám

culable loss in terms of the talented young and upwardly mobile who left the country. For the United States, it has been a boon. For Hungarian-Americans it has been a major gain — it has provided the opportunity for community survival. At a time when stagnation and political polarization dominated their organizational life, 1956 brought onto the scene many people who were influenced by idealism, had talent, and were able to fit into American life more smoothly than their predecessors. Consequently, they could bridge some of the differences in the Hungarian-American community and could also become a major mediating force between the latter as a whole and the greater American society of which they were now a part. And this was needed, because Hungarian-American life prior to 1956 was anything but confidence building. Within the American context, Hungarians until that time were either labeled “Hunkies” or “Bohunks” if they were farmers, miners, laborers or workers in heavy industry, or if they were intellectuals or belonged to the small number who made it into the professions, then they were viewed with suspicion, since their co-nationals had fought on the side of the Kaiser in World War I and on that of Hitler during World War II. Somehow the memory of the Kossuth emigration and the glory of 1848-49 had faded. Although many Hungarians of that generation had loyally and with distinction served the Union cause in the American Civil War, this was blurred by the more recent traumas of the two world conflagrations.

The consequent Hungarian-American self image left much to be desired. It lacked assertiveness and confidence. Communal life was linked just to the churches or isolated neighborhoods, and these did not, in most instances, act as the defenders of cultural values. Waves of immigrants and emigres followed each other, but of each only a small percentage was able to retain its cultural roots, while most became absorbed in the melting pot without a trace.

The largest wave — composed mainly of rural, village agriculturalists — came as immigrants between the 1880 and the outset of World War I. A small emigre group, composed of intellectuals, followed in 1919-20, people who represented the failed democratic revolution of Mihály Károlyi and the Bolshevik experiment of Béla Kún. Although few of them made it to the new world, their influence was felt — unfortunately with mostly negative consequences.

The next large wave was a product of the dislocations wrought by World War II. Close to 200,000 Hungarian “DP’s” — displaced persons — became dispersed in the West. Many emigrated to the United States. Although they were mainly people of middle-class background, their first generation was not able to fit into the practical American environment. More than any of their predecessors they held on to the symbols of the past — but unfortunately many of these symbols had become paperweight symbols: ossified behind glass, brittle, and incapable of changing their form or role to fit the new circumstances. Thus they perpetuated Old-World animosities and Old- World political confrontations. The outmoded symbolism of this generation was no match for the magnetic power of the American economy. The sons and daughters of this wave soon abandoned the dualism of loyalties that America’s setting always left room for. For the most part, they, too, were swallowed up by the melting pot.

The wave of 1956 had better prospects. It was a better overall cross-section of Hungarian society than any of its predecessors. It had perhaps more representation from Budapest than

from the countryside — and more representation from Transdanubia than from Central or Eastern Hungary — but it was a good cross-section in terms of the different social and economic strata of the country, and in terms of religion. It was, as we have seen, overrepresentative of the young. But it was a component of Hungarian life that brought a new self-consciousness, pride and unity — at least temporary unity — into Hungarian- American life. It finally provided Hungarian-American society with a unifying historical guidepost. All Hungarian-Americans could partake of this symbol; it was not reserved to only a part: the mass media, too, helped to transform it into a total communal experience.

And such unifying guideposts are indispensable for any community. Louis Hartz, the American historian who wrote The Liberal Tradition in America, points out that America is a product of “fragments of culture.” And the most important aspect of this insight is that a fragment is a product of a specific time and place. The core culture on which the United States is based, according to this thesis, is a 17th century entrepreneurial, dissident Protestant culture brought over from the British Isles. It is not my intention to argue whether or not American political culture accurately reflects the fragment that Hartz describes. My main contention is that his insight is also helpful in understanding ourselves and the significance of 1956. Just as for the political culture of American society in general the ideas of the Glorious Revolution of 1688 in England and the writings of John Locke are indispensable, so for the Hungarian- American subculture the Revolution of 1956 and the 16 points of the students and workers are an indispensable source of selfdefinition. It is the departure point from which and with which they can judge their own role in the world. It links them through ideals and not just through language and culture — to those Hungarians who cannot enjoy the fruits of the Revolution.

Because in East-Central Europe the fruits of the Revolution have not yet been achieved (although significant and noteworthy progress has been made), Soviet hegemony is still there! It is furthermore still linked to one-party dictatorships and the opportunistic control of an unrepresentative new ruling caste rather than to the interests and needs of all the peoples of East Central Europe. The most obvious manifestation of this is the use of divide and conquer policies — and the scapegoating of minorities! For Hungarians in the region, this has deadly consequences.

So we really have no choice if we want to be true to the ideals of 1956. We must continue to let 1956 guide our lives — to let it define many of our concerns, to remain a living part of our existence. Not a mere symbol, but an active agent, a catalyst for accepting a role that transcends boundaries and reaches out to help those who cannot help themselves, cannot, because of the imposed great-power political constraints, the existing tenuous balance of power, and the political fragmentation of the Hungarian nation.

And what can we do? What is the task of the Magyar Baráti Közösség — the Hungarian Communion of Friends — in these trying times? In part, its main task is to be the organizational hub of all those efforts which can mobilize the international community for the defense of the human rights of Hungarians threatened by the prospects of ethnocide. This is now our highpriority task, because it is the most urgent; it has been placed at our doorstep. We, as the remnants who have not disappeared, but have sustained a dynamic dual sense of loyalty —

ITT-OTT 22. évi. (1989), 1. (110.) szám 17