BUDAPEST: HUNGARIAN JEWS & WWII

As a member of the Axis, Hungary became increasingly hostile towards its Jewish citizens. Before the war, Budapest was a welcoming city for Jews, similar to the situation of German Jews, and they were deeply integrated into society, living among non-Jewish citizens rather than in ghettos. Many Hungarian Jews served and died in WWI and were honored for their sacrifices.

We visited the Doheny Synagogue, considered the second largest synagogue in the world after one in New York or Jerusalem. It's surprising that NYC and Jerusalem can't determine the exact number of seats in their temples, but this one had over 4,000 seats. We discovered that Hungarian Jews were neither Ashkenazi nor Sephardic, which was new to me, but followed a branch called Neolog, which encouraged integration into the host nation. The synagogue was designed by a non-Jewish architect who drew heavily from classic cathedrals, featuring a large rose window and an organ. The Jewish community in Budapest sought full assimilation and felt comfortable blending in and being accepted. The synagogue survived the war and was later renovated with funds led by notable American-Hungarian Jews, Tony Curtis and Estee Lauder.

Before WWII, census data showed around 825,000 Jews in Hungary. By the war's end, over 550,000 Hungarian Jews had been killed. The most horrific period occurred late in the war, between May 15 and July 9, 1944, when 434,000 were deported on 147 trains, mainly to Auschwitz, where 80% were gassed upon arrival. We visited a memorial along the Danube honoring the site where several thousand Jews were forced to remove their shoes before being shot and pushed into the river. The memorial consists of bronze shoes along the riverbank, and its simplicity is profoundly moving.

A significant difference between Germany and Hungary lies in their respective approaches to historical memory, particularly concerning the Holocaust and World War II. Germany has made a concerted effort to confront its past, acknowledging the collective shame associated with the atrocities committed during the Holocaust. This process of reckoning has involved extensive public education, memorialization, and a commitment to ensuring that such horrors are neither forgotten nor repeated. The German government has established numerous memorials and museums dedicated to the victims of the Holocaust, emphasizing the importance of historical accuracy and the need for collective responsibility in confronting a painful legacy.

In stark contrast, Hungary's approach, particularly under the leadership of Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, has been marked by a tendency to downplay or reinterpret the country's role during this dark chapter of history. A notable example of this is the controversial memorial erected in Budapest, which ostensibly honors those who perished during the German Occupation of Hungary. However, this memorial has been criticized for its misleading portrayal of the events, as it frames the situation as an occupation rather than recognizing the complex reality of Hungary's alliance with Nazi Germany during the war. This revisionist narrative not only distorts historical facts but also serves to absolve Hungary of complicity in the Holocaust, where thousands of Hungarian Jews were deported to concentration camps.

In response to this troubling narrative, members of the community have taken action to voice their dissent. An impromptu memorial has emerged on a wrought iron fence that stands in front of the official monument. This grassroots initiative has become a poignant site of remembrance and protest, where individuals have affixed photographs of their lost loved ones alongside heartfelt messages and statements that criticize the government's attempt to reshape history. These personal tributes serve as powerful reminders of the very real human cost of the Holocaust and highlight the ongoing struggle for historical truth in the face of political manipulation.

The contrast between these two nations' approaches to their shared history illustrates broader themes of accountability, memory, and the politics of history. While Germany has embraced a path of reflection and acknowledgment, Hungary's narrative risks fostering a dangerous environment where historical facts are obscured in favor of a more palatable national identity. This divergence not only impacts how each country processes its past but also shapes the collective consciousness of their citizens and the lessons they draw for the future. The ongoing dialogue surrounding these memorials and the historical narratives they represent is crucial for understanding the complexities of national identity and the responsibilities that come with it.