Bibó István (1911–1979)
Életút dokumentumokban
(István Bibó [1911–1979]. A Life in Documents)
Selected and compiled by Tibor Huszár
Interviews by Tibor Huszár and Gábor Hanák
Edited by György Litván and Katalin S. Varga
Budapest: 1956-os Intézet–Osiris Századvég, 1995 753 + 4 p.

Notes

The decision to collect interviews with István Bibó in a single volume, along with documents (and a few photos) either related to him and his family or at some time in his possession, fully proved itself. The book is made up by six chapters. Each of them begins with interviews referring to a particular part of his life. They were all recorded between 1976 and 1978. The interviews are followed by documents, mostly thematically arranged and in chronological order within each theme. The two hundred and forty-four documents take up about five hundred pages. The periods covered are as follows: 1911–1945, 1945–1949, 1949–1956, 1957–1963, 1963–1979, each preceded by a table of contents. The seven sets of documents making up the first chapter cover the parental home, his childhood and youth; there are five sets in the second chapter, two in the fifth, four in the sixth. A number of brief editorial summaries preceding some of the documents offer guidance to a reader overwhelmed by details. A footnote at the beginning of the first interview (p. 23) tells us that the recording, made in the autumn of 1976, was originally meant to be part of a documentary about the politician Ferenc Erdei. It was commissioned by Hungarian Television. Some of the sequences and a few sentences have been broadcast as part of a Bibó television documentary. At Tibor Huszár’s suggestion, the Sociological Institute (then Department) of Eötvös Loránd University commissioned a second part; Bibó agreed—after stipulating certain conditions—also agreeing to dictate the last part and editing the tape, instead of being interviewed (pp. 547–572). This was published in 1990 under the title “Az 1956 utáni helyzetrôl “(On the Situation after 1956) as his penultimate article.1
 The selection is first class, and the book is beautifully designed. The cover shows István Bibó at the age of thirty-three, taken in the summer of 1944, in the garden of his wife’s family’s holiday home, with a typewriter on his lap—in all probability the very same “portable typewriter, serial number 571.622/S, brand name Erika, seized as criminal evidence” (Doc 176, p. 531). It is a powerful picture: one glance is all that is needed and we are right in the thick of the story. It is not only the aforementioned 1958 sentence of the People’s Court  that comes to mind, but also the draft of the “Békeajánlat” (Peace Proposal), originally meant to be a leaflet, which Bibó drafted in the summer of 1944 (Doc 100,
p. 204), which his wife Boriska carried in her handbag for weeks  in mortal fear, since neither her husband nor the Peasant Party politician Ferenc Erdei could find a single Communist politician trustworthy enough to give the document to (p. 49).  Looking at the face, content and attentive but not all that deeply engrossed, brings to mind the role in which Bibó loved to picture himself—that of the writer who formulates ideas: “I had never before given a press statement in my life, but then I discovered that this could be all the more reason for me to draft the press releases now; and if I do the drafting, then my stay here will perhaps be given some sort of shape” (p. 437) “Staying here” meant staying on in the Parliament on November 4, 1956, and the statement in question was the “Nyilatkozat” (Proclamation), opening with the word “Hungarians!” (Doc. 167, pp. 448–450).
The autobiographical interview, however, and the documents, as well as a comparative study of his works, clearly suggest that Bibó thought of himself as being cut out for another role, too, as a participant in events, and sometimes even as a decision maker. In 1968 he wrote to András Révai, who was then living in London: “... still, these writings [a nearly finished essay on the Cyprus crisis2] owe their existence to the remote possibility of exerting an influence in a place and at a time where and when they might make a difference.” (Doc. 200,
p. 593) Thirty years earlier this was already a serious and well-considered plan and strategy for life: “In planning my own career I continued to think that first I would obtain a university post by exploiting possibilities open to me, thus acquiring that relative independence which would allow me to embark on a career in public life and politics. My ultimate goal has always been to participate in politics... This was why I chose to study law...” (p. 38).

A Carefully Planned  Career

As clearly demonstrated by the book, the young Bibó acted with great deliberation. The life he envisaged was not that of a scholar, but that of a well-educated politician working for one of the international organizations. More specifically, he was interested in international political arbitration for which he worked out the institutional framework in a great deal of detail. In Bibó’s view, the conceptual basis for settling international conflicts was national sovereignty, as the only effective principle ever since the popular will had become the main source of legitimacy in the European model of social development. His chosen career or role was relatively novel at the time; he made the acquaintance of this new breed, some of whom became his friends: he met Alfred Verdoss in Vienna, William Rappard, and the young Paul Guggenheim in Geneva.3 In choosing between the law and political science, he attached greater significance to the latter, and he obtained his Dr rer. pol. sub auspiciis gubernatoris, that being more important to him than the Dr iuris. He wrote his dissertation under the title A szankciók kérdése a nemzetközi jogban (The Question of Sanctions in International Law.4 The dissertation was based on three theses, no less political than legal in character, each expounded clearly and intelligibly. If anything, it is even more topical today than it was at the time when Bibó wrote it, when there was no great power capable of effectively applying sanctions as an instrument of practical policy.
He collected the material and wrote it up in the Collegium Hungaricum of Vienna, where he held a scholarship for the academic year 1933–34 (Docs. 26–27, pp. 98–99). “I have just completed my paper in international law”, he wrote to Erdei on April 26, 1934, “which is meant to show me as qualified for the Geneva scholarship beyond a shadow of a doubt.” (Doc. 51, p. 123). “For the Viennese scholarship, too, he needed a prize-winning essay (Docs. 24–25,
pp. 94–97), which then formed the basis for his Dr iuris dissertation.5 The Institut Universitaire des Hautes Études Internationales of Geneva, which he attended on a government scholarship, was not simply the university’s postgraduate school, but it also served as a kind of training college for League of Nations administrators. It was established by William Rappard, former Head of the Minorities Protection Department,6 outstanding international lawyers taught there. World-renowned authorities in their fields were invited to give lectures.7 His new employer, the Ministry of Justice (Doc. 30, p. 102) made it possible for him to pursue his studies in Geneva on full pay, requiring no more of him than the writing of a few papers.8 “To use the jargon of my chosen field, which comes increasingly easy to me now, I would say that I am watching over the process of international integration in the body of law”, he wrote to Ferenc Erdei on February 7, 1935 (Doc. 55, p. 131). Besides taking his bearings and working arduously, Bibó made valuable contacts, which were to prove useful for a lifetime. In the first semester he attended lectures in international law; in the second only one lecture series in law, Rappard’s course on the League of Nations, dropping the others in favor of courses in philosophy and history, including economic history and anthropology (Doc. 34–36, pp. 106–108). At the same time, he also studied with Paul Guggenheim, Guglielmo Ferrero, and Maurice Bourquin. He gave four seminar papers (Doc. 131, p. 343), three of them certainly in Bourquin’s seminars (Doc. 37, p. 109). One could be regarded as the first, early draft of A német hisztéria (The German Hysteria).9 He also attended Kelsen’s seminar (Doc. 55, pp. 131–132).  These,10 published abroad more or less simultaneously,  almost automatically led to later invitations abroad:  conferences in Paris in 1935 and 1937; a two-month Carnegie scholarship in The Hague in 1936 on Paul Guggenheim’s recommendation (addressing him as “mon cher ami”, he assured the young Hungarian of his loyal friendship—Doc. 38, p. 110); and a two-month stay at the League of Nations, in practice to do research and to gain legal experience but on paper in the more elegant and better paid capacity of a temporary assistant. (Doc. 26, p. 98) He spent twenty-five months abroad between the autumn of 1933 and the end of 1938, in other words almost half of that period and that is not even counting his first stay in Vienna in 1931.11
As the editors note, Bibó at the same time rose extremely rapidly within the official hierarchy: in 1934, the Minister of Justice accepted an application sent from Vienna (Doc. 60, p. 145), and appointed him to a position in the Budapest Royal Court of Appeal (Doc. 62, p. 146), at a time when he had only one month of articles with a firm of attorneys behind him (Doc. 61, p. 146). Of the obligatory four-year articles, he only spent two years and eight months working in an office; for the rest of the time he was on annual and special leave, except for a period of two and a half months when he did his military service. Of the numerous documents illustrating his rise through the ranks, I single out two in particular, as they help to make sense of the various appointments and transfers: one is the record describing his articles and the other is the Ministry’s staff list (Doc. 74, p. 158 and Doc. 78, pp. 163–165).
In December 1940, with his articles completed, the Regent appointed him to a court (Doc. 75, p. 160). By that time he had been working in the Ministry rather than in a Court for the past two years (Doc. 72, p. 157). He had passed the combined final examination for attorneys and judges (Doc. 78, p. 163). In June 1941 he was promoted to the rank of ministry secretary.
Meanwhile, on June 13, 1940, he obtained a venia legendi for the philosophy of law at Szeged University (Doc. 93, pp. 193–194); fifteen days later he married Dr Boriska Ravasz, a teacher of Latin and history, the daughter and granddaughter of Calvinist bishops (Doc. 78, p. 163).
István Bibó was then thirty years old. For five years he had been one of the leading members of the Hungarian Society of Social Sciences
(p. 177), and also a member of the rather exclusive Hungarian Society of Philosophy (Doc. 88, p. 178). After completing his dissertations, by 1940, he had published thirteen articles12, of which three on the Philosophy of Law, one written in French, one in German and one in Hungarian, as well as an essay on Ferenc Erdei’s work, are considered of lasting importance. (See Barna Horváth’s belated appraisal: Doc. 131, pp. 343–350).13
Ambition, talent, and tenacity were not enough, one also needed patrons. For the Viennese scholarships his university connections and his father's contacts probably sufficed. His father, a respectable civil servant (Doc. 5, pp. 63–67.; Docs. 7, 8,
pp. 69–72), who was both a founding member and an executive of the Society of Social Sciences (Doc. 6, pp. 67–68), also opened doors for him there.  His invitation to Geneva was greatly assisted by Barna Horváth, a professor of Philosophy of Law, who, along with the international lawyer László Buza, also helped him to secure his appointment as a Privatdozent at the university (p. 87; Doc. 26, p. 98; Doc. 131, pp. 343–344).
A separate sub-chapter, both in the interviews and in the documents, is devoted to the March Front, as these same few years coincided with the rise and fall of a movement, which meant numerous contacts, friendships and extensive travelling for Bibó (pp. 42–49, 216–217; Docs. 79–87, pp. 166–176). Tibor Huszár is probably wrong when he suggests that Bibó’s career had been seriously jeopardised  by his left-wing associations and by courting the March Front, or by refusing to sacrifice his friends to his career (p. 15). Without showing the slightest hesitation, Bibó was willing to use his connections at the Ministry to procure the court registration of the strongly left-wing organisation, MIKSZ (Association of Artists, Writers and Researchers), and was even willing to accept a position in its supervisory body (p. 45, p. 48). He gave lectures—on sociology and social history—both there and at the populist Györffy College (Doc. 90, pp. 180-189; Doc. 98, pp. 198-202). “I altogether failed to realise that I played a role in maintaining the continuity of the Party (i.e., the Communist Party of Hungary; Editor’s note) in those times”,  he remarked in an interview. By contrast, we find several indications in the interviews and letters suggesting that in both left-wing and radical populist circles he was regarded as a respectable upper-middle-class young man who was unwilling to commit himself. At the same time, it is reasonable to assume that his influential acquaintances valued, rather than disapproved of, his broad range of connections with various groups and people whom they themselves could hardly have reached directly. One thing had to be avoided at all costs: getting arrested. This becomes plain from reading his letter of August 13, 1978 to Gyula Borbándi (Doc. 229, p. 685). Géza Féja, who was a man capable of appreciating social status, once chided him for keeping out of the period’s most important prosecution of intellectuals.14  Bibó subsequently commented as follows: “Later I tried to make up for it.” (p. 46) One or two years later he—along with Erdei—frequented Countess Klára Andrássy’s salon, where he mainly met anti-German politicians and intellectuals (p. 40).
Bibó was, in many respects, a privileged person, while his situation was hardly a privileged one. That part of the ruling class which wanted modernization, a Western—but not German—orientation, and conservative reforms, attached great importance to paving the way for the intellectual élite of such a transition, sending its members abroad on generous grants, trying to put them under an obligation, and integrating or at least tolerating their connections with other political or intellectual circles (pp. 45, 51). This was how the leading populist writer, László Németh found employment at Hungarian Radio (1934–1935), along with the ethnographer Gyula Ortutay (1935–1944), who naturally invited Bibó to lecture (Doc. 92, p. 192). This was how Eötvös College, an élite training institute of markedly liberal spirit that mostly recruited its students from people of moderate means—“parsons, lecturers, teachers”—came into being, or Bolyai College and Györffy College. Both brimmed with talented students of a poor provincial background. The latter college had the Zsindelys, a couple known for their government sympathies, as its main patrons (p. 636). In the meantime the conservative élite was nursing its own scions at the Hungarian Review Society’s tea afternoons and, provided they came up to scratch, also invited them to dinner parties where they would be introduced to Count István Bethlen. Their journal Magyar Szemle, had an exchange program with all the other magazines of any substance, and was constantly on the look out for young talent.15 Naturally, it also published some articles by Bibó.16
Nevertheless, István Bibó occasionally tasted failure. In 1935 the Hungarian Foreign Ministry failed to respond to Maurice Bourquin’s emotional appeal, calling the attention of Hungary’s League of Nations delegation to his eminent student, who “possessed all the qualities necessary for a brilliant career” (Doc. 37, p. 109). After the annexation of Northern Transylvania by Hungary, the Hungarian Ministry of Culture transferred Bibó’s teaching post from Szeged University to the University of Kolozsvár (Doc. 210, p. 612.17 In 1942 his application for the newly established Social Sciences professorship was turned down (Doc. 95, p. 195; Doc. 136, p. 357). Despite the fact that his works, lectures and speeches, not excepting those on the philosophy of law and public administration, became increasingly focussed on international affairs, pointing to a confusion in European social development, only one was published by the magazine Külügyi Szemle, and even that dated from a period prior to his new-found interest in foreign affairs.18 Of his essays, it was “Pénz” (Money),19 a piece merely touching on international issues, that was accepted for publication by Magyar Szemle, a magazine regularly featuring articles by official foreign policy experts and international analysts. Presumably the foreign affairs community wanted to have no truck with Bibó.
The new “Reform Age” eagerly awaited by Bibó and his friends (Doc. 54, p. 131) had in fact come to an end, or been put on the back burner, in 1938. The ascendance of the radical right, along with Hungary’s entry into the War, suspended all rational career plans. The only minor exception for Bibó was that from 1942 through 1944 he was associate editor of the legal review Magyar Jogi Szemle; p. 177; Doc. 97, p. 197). There is no mention of his promotion in the Ministry’s records.
The Szárszó Conference of 1943, which Bibó did not attend, also  disappointed him, foreshadowing the unpleasant alternatives which he had to confront with increasing frequency (pp. 50–52.; p. 217).
“[…] at this moment the choice should not be between Nazism and Communism, but between Nazism and the entire anti-Nazi coalition.”  (Doc. 227, p. 664)
Despite all this, it would appear that he did not give up his aims. By 1942 or 1943 he had formulated in his mind—what he was to commit to paper partly during the War and partly during his imprisonment—what he had to say on the causes and possible resolution of international conflicts.20 Of course, as the subject demanded, this was addressed to an international audience. At this time the prospects of new international contacts emerged on the horizon. We know that already in 1944 he wanted to smuggle an English translation of the manuscript of his A német hisztéria okai és története (The Causes and History of German Hysteria) out of the country. A publisher had shown an interest.21 He said nothing really out of the ordinary. Karl Mannheim, Wilhelm Röpke, Friedrich August Hayek and Karl Popper all expressed themselves in similar terms at the time, it was a kind of end-of-the-war genre. (Bibó wrote a brilliant essay on Mannheim's book.)22 Only half of the translation was completed: for a time István Bibó’s life took a different turn, away from foreign policy, in the direction of Hungarian domestic politics. A new era began, and the posts István Bibó occupied did not go with journeys abroad.
Curiously, István Bibó hardly ever mentioned his political activities beginning with the spring of 1945 in his interviews, nor his literary work of the time. Zoltán Szabó, a writer and political thinker, close in thinking and attitudes to Bibó, considered the “the flight of the ruling class” and a form of government that mitigated the consequences of the occupation of the country as the crucial condition of Bibó’s emergence on the political scene. The framework appeared to be given for that “third way” to which Bibó had by then been fully converted. His stamina was remarkable: in addition to discharging his official (and later also teaching) duties and sitting through countless meetings, he wrote at least a dozen articles between 1945 and 1948,23 and gave an average of two lectures a month, mostly out of Budapest (Doc. 125, pp. 334–338). This was the time when his best-known works were conceived, at least five or six hundred of the eight hundred pages of the second volume of his selected essays.
1945 and 1946 were years when things worked well for him. As Section Head and Senior Section Head in the Ministry of Interior under Ferenc Erdei (and also later under Imre Nagy and László Rajk—Doc. 113, p. 307), his name became known all over the country thanks to his articles and lectures. His essay A magyar demokrácia válsága (The Crisis of Hungarian Democracy; 13–79),24 along with all the passions that it stirred up (Docs. 122–124, pp. 327–333), placed him in a kind of no man’s land, a very enviable location—or at least that was how he remembered it later (Doc. 200, p. 594). In 1946 he was offered two university chairs (Docs. 129–130, pp. 342–343), accepting one in the Politics Department of Szeged University just in the nick of time (Docs. 132–134, pp. 350–352). The Hungarian Academy of Sciences elected him a Corresponding Member, on the historian István Hajnal’s recommendation (Docs. 138–140, pp. 360–364). The continuity of his oeuvre and an incredibly swift taking stock of the new experiences in the postwar world are exemplified in “Kécskei elôadás” (Kécske Lecture)25 as well as in his inauguration address at the Academy. The first contains, in a completely developed form and arranged around the concepts of power, domination, and service, almost everything that he later expounded in great detail in Az európai társadalomfejlôdés értelme (The Meaning of  the Social Development of Europe),26 written in 1971–1972. Although judging by its title, Az államhatalmak elválasztása egykor és most (The Separation of Powers in Past and in Present),27 appears to be an essay in constitutional law, it in fact drew attention to something, which the world—and our generation—was going to confront only much later: the emergence of ever newer power centers capable of extraordinary power concentration, along with the new élite of management experts that was taking over these centers. “Therefore, the fact that the aristocracy of this new power concentration will be an aristocracy of expertise and training [...] will make rebellion against it and demands for liberty even more difficult.”28
As long as there was hope of Hungary becoming a more or less free and democratic country, one that would be allowed to take part in the postwar world order on a more or less equal footing with countries that could call themselves free, Bibó had no reason to view this period as time wasted. Everything suggests that Bibó did not fundamentally change his long-term goals. An example was Az európai egyensúlyról és békérôl (On the Balance of Power and Peace in Europe)29 one of his most important works, which was clearly written for an international audience in 1943–1944, so much so that certain parts of the manuscript could readily be fitted into A nemzetközi államközösség bénultsága (The Paralysis of International Relations and the Remedies) without alteration. Of A kelet-európai kisállamok nyomorúsága (The Distress of the East European Small States), which was published in 194630 he said, “Originally I wrote it to influence the peace negotiations, but it came out too late”.31 He intended it to be available to foreign readers, too. We must not forget, either, that it was István Bibó whom Jacques Rueff had invited to head one of the research teams of the great Nazism project organized in 1949 under the aegis of UNESCO, after his name had come up at a conference held in Beirut “among those whose co-operation would be especially desirable” (Docs. 152–154, pp. 380–384). Rueff’s invitation came too late: by that time Bibó was behind bars in Hungary.
His refusal to subscribe to Marxism was not the main charge against him. What he could not accept was “that this world is divided into an American imperialism and a socialist camp led by the Soviets, [...] I rejected this alternative fiercely and bitterly, unable to accept the inevitability of this option even at the risk of finding myself alone in the wilderness.”32

Elimination

In 1947 Bibó’s gradual elimination had started; but it was only after 1948 that his career really began to plummet spectacularly. Of the documents—split into two sets in view of the chronological limits—I  wish to draw special attention to those which illustrate the panic of an administration gone berserk, and to those which throw light on a tyranny which was playing ball with human beings (Docs. 146–149, pp. 370–373).
Step by step, István Bibó was losing his place in the academic world (Docs. 143–144, p. 369; Docs. 156–159, pp. 415–417). Once he began to experience ideological orders, he was only too ready to give it up (p. 261; Doc. 227, p. 674). In his capacity as Minister of Religion and Education, his friend Gyula Ortutay could, or dared, offer him only the job of organizing the Hungarian UNESCO committee (Doc. 145, p. 370). As he put it, the Eastern European Institute, which he had transformed as government commissioner and acting chairman, came to be re-organized so as to “pull it out from under me”
(p. 263; Doc. 149, pp. 372–373).  At the Academy he was reclassified to a consultant member: in other words, to a nobody (Doc. 156, p. 370). He set out to re-think regions as units of public administration, one of his pet projects (Doc. 150, pp. 374–377), yet the one department of the Regional Planning Institute, where he could have done meaningful work (p. 391)  was never actually set up (Doc. 149, pp. 372–373).  By the end of 1950 he was out of work (Doc. 160, pp. 417–418); he ended up working as a cataloguer in the University Library. A year later Boriska Ravasz lost her job, too; and when she eventually found employment at an elementary school in suburban Szentendre, she had to get up at five o’clock every morning, leaving her three children at home, one seriously ill. (Docs. 233–235, pp. 694–696). The couple’s income was cut by half (p. 392).
Bibó was already in prison by the time the first article he had meant for an international audience was published.33 As soon as he was released in 1963, he started working on his great comprehensive work, A nemzetközi államközösség bénultsága (The Paralysis of the International Relations and the Remedies). Then, in 1970–1971, his first heart attack appears to have prompted him to start smuggling his manuscripts out of the country.34 His correspondence reveals that he did not wish to be seen as one of the central figures of the 1956 Revolution, but this wish was not rooted in caution. What he would have liked to achieve with publication was “... to present himself to the public abroad as interested in political journalism independent of the part he played in ’56 and the manifestos he wrote.” (Doc. 200, p. 595) “To put it differently, I wrote the work for the UN crowd: that hodge-podge of diplomats and functionaries in whose circles some sort of a UN public opinion was formed.”  (ibid. p. 593) To that end, he was prepared to resort to conspiracy, cunning, and secrecy. (ibid. p. 587.; pp.  596–597)
Paralysis was published simultaneously by a British and an American publisher,35 with two case studies—one on Cyprus and the other on the Near East—left out due to lack of interest and also on account of the sensitivity of the issues: “I would never have thought that I would once find myself in the position of anti-Semitism.” (Doc. 201, p. 599); His article on Northern Ireland was not even translated.36 Success never came, but neither did a scandal at home (p. 554).
Géza Herczegh, former Judge of the Constitutional Court, and a Judge of the International Tribunal at the Hague wrote in connection with this: “It was certainly true that at the time when Bibó’s book was published, people in Europe were not aware of the problems in connection with the right of self-determination, and people outside Europe thought that the matter had been settled with de-colonization... When one is an opposition figure in a socialist country, as Bibó was at the time, then one has to write about the human rights issue in order to get attention.”37 By contrast, the prevalent view among Hungarian commentators was that one had to dismiss as naive all that which followed from Bibó’s tenet that if there was a procedure which promised to lead to a reasonable compromise, then this procedure should at least be brought to the attention of the opposing parties—and of the peace maker: “... I must admit that all the clever talk that claims the futility of it all cuts no ice with me.” (Doc. 200, p. 593) Nor could he accept that “the future happiness of the world would be decided in combat between two ideologies and modes of government: capitalism based on the free market and state-controlled communism.” (p. 561) What might in fact be decided was worldwide domination by an élite, and analyzing the possible outcomes Bibó found the trend less than reassuring.38 Consequently, he did not believe in an irreconcilable antagonism between liberal capitalism and state-controlled communism, either; on the contrary, he argued that in his planned work39 “their common denominator will be found and the balloons of their separate existence will be punctured.” (ibid. p. 593) In order to preserve the moral integrity required for exposing and dismissing what he believed to be false alternatives, he had no choice but to reject “reconciliatory gestures” by the Hungarian regime, which many, both at home and abroad, looked on as the “most humane and rational version of socialism” (pp. 560–561).
Bibó’s poverty worsened with the deterioration of his health. It continued right to the end of his life (Doc. 200, p. 596.) As one of the many humiliating episodes, in keeping with the law of socialist Hungary and adding insult to injury, “the Hungarian National Bank sent back to London the fifty pounds40 advanced by his publisher on his book” (p. 554).41

Three  Episodes from the  time  of  the  revolution

Of all the events of his life, it was the 1956 revolution that István Bibó discussed at the greatest length. The complete story has to be pieced together from different places in the book (pp. 401–414; pp. 431–444; pp, 463–464), and certain items in the Attestations in Custody and in his writings have to be looked up.42 Obviously whatever he has to say is fascinating, as noone except himself could tell what he did in Parliament after dawn on November 4, after both all other members of the Government and the clerical staff had gone, listening to the distant noise of Soviet tanks, moving ever closer. It would have been his first day as a minister, two days after his appointment, when he moved in, bringing with him at least one of his manuscripts and his favorite Homer.43 His behavior then completes the image of his personality. When the time for political action came, he was, within minutes, able to slot perfectly into an assumed role, merely relying on his theoretical knowledge, without an iota of previous experience (in this case, standing in for the Prime Minister and Foreign Minister). Furthermore, despite his often noted artlessness, he never showed himself so naive as to discuss something he had no desire to speak about. This was demonstrated by the following three stories.
The first took place on November 2, 1956, when the Peasant Party—then called Petôfi Party—renominated him as minister. “Now, regarding the psychological aspect, I must tell you that as long as nomination was the issue, I was not really interested. News of the Russian troops approaching gave me a pain in the guts, and it dawned on me that things would not be all that simple. I went to bed with that pain. But when I woke in the morning, it was with a confident feeling that it was only natural that I had to be a minister, along with the feeling that I would be disappointed if I could not be a minister.
And then I immediately drafted a brief proposal, essentially laying out what the first council of ministers should tell the West.” (p. 411)
That was the first thing he did on November 3. And what next? In the afternoon he summoned Béla Király, the commander-in-chief of the National Guard, and put two questions to him: Will the Soviet Union attack, and if so, how long can we resist? This account of the meeting was given much later by Béla Király;44 at his own interrogation, Bibó not only gave a rather doctored version of it, but he also added ample diversionary details, so as to throw his interrogator off the scent.45 This meeting was not mentioned in the interviews. The despatch (telegram) sent to President Eisenhower was based on the draft. On November 4, sometime between 6:00 and 7:00 a. m.46 “I made some corrections in pencil” (p. 433). What he heard from Béla Király obviously contributed to his decision not to mention armed resistance in the “Nyilatkozat” (Proclamation) of November 4. (Doc. 167, pp. 448–450).47 Another conspicuous element of the same document is that the only government member still in his office mentions the only other who was still free to act. Anna Kéthly, who henceforth “became Hungary’s only legitimate representative abroad, and also the legitimate head of her foreign missions”. Admittedly, this occurred to Bibó only the second time around, but then he immediately dictated this over the phone to the American Legation stenographer, i.e. one hour after the first dictation, so that transmission together with the “Proclamation”48 proved possible. It was still in time: it was only on November 12 that the official gazette Magyar Közlöny  published the dismissal of the members of the Imre Nagy Government—without a date—and the Presidential Council’s decree number (Doc. 170, p. 454).
The second story concerns preparations. We know that the best way to control events, our own actions included, is to prepare for them. István Bibó was very keen on preparing himself. He thoroughly prepared both for the television film on Ferenc Erdei49 and for the interviews; he mentions somewhere that his lecture notes for Szeged University were almost ready to be printed; the detailed outlines of several of his other lectures can be found in the book (Doc. 90, pp. 180–189; Doc. 98, pp. 198–202; Doc. 137, pp. 358–359). He also prepared himself for his arrest and trial.  He chose to dictate the records of his own interrogation by the state prosecutor (Doc. 175, pp. 490-506), a practice he had already adopted in the phase of police interrogation (p. 466). What could his purpose have been in doing so? “I was not always very clever—it was something of a divine miracle that I avoided causing serious damage to others, and I did make some blunders—, finally the prosecution conceded that judgment had to be based on what I had admitted in writing and signed” (ibid.). Therefore, he did accomplish his goal, although the wording of the judgment made it clear that originally a death sentence for both István Bibó and Árpád Göncz—now President of Hungary—had been intended, but there was no time for writing it (Doc. 176, pp. 507–532).50
An evident element of this strategy, based more on moral and intellectual considerations than on circumspection, was the selection of the papers he allowed to fall into police hands during a search of his home which was carried out in his presence. (He had six months to hide the rest.) The plainclothes policemen showed up at Bibó’s home late in the evening on May 23, and completed the search by dawn (p. 464). According to the search report, twenty items were seized (Doc. 173, pp. 487–488), the last being the typewriter mentioned earlier. In addition, they took away a mixed bag of objects: lists of publications, army ID card, family papers. The readers will have great fun trying to decipher the meaning of the symbols next to the various items—minus signs, check marks, crosses, pto. marks and colons, as well as their combinations. Having passed through the hands of four or five persons, this version of the report showed four items left on the list—each marked with a minus sign— which were found useful for the purposes of the prosecution. These were: István Bibó’s Petôfi Party registry card, dated October 31 1956; marked as item 1), his writings entitled “Expozé a magyarországi helyzetrôl” (Exposé on the Hungarian Situation) and “Tervezet a magyar kérdés kompromisszumos megoldására” (Draft Proposal for a Compromise Solution of the Hungarian Problem), accompanied by a covering letter beginning with the words “Mr Minister!”, dated November 6, 195651 listed under item 2) and dated here as November 8; “Nyilatkozat Magyarország állami, társadalmi és gazdasági rendjének alapelveirôl és a politikai kibontakozás útjáról” (Proclamation on Hungary’s Constitutional, Social, and Economic Principles, and on the Way Leading to a Political Solution) (pp. 441–442; the 8th of December version);52 marked as item 9); “One piece of a political essay (pp.1–26), type-written and corrected in ink”, almost certainly identifiable as  “Emlékirat” (Memorandum) called “Magyarország helyzete és a világhelyzet” (Hungary’s Position and the World Situation) (pp. 441–444).53 All four documents were mentioned in the judgment. The first served to prove that “Dr István Bibó took part in the re-establishment of the National Peasant Party under the name of Petôfi Party. He became a member of the Party’s executive committee.” (Doc. 176, p. 510) The three writings Bibó had selected to hand over to the plainclothes men formed the backbone of the charges. (Also mentioned were the telegram sent to the President of the U.S., not admitted as evidence, and the “Proclamation” dated November 4,  as well as a “planned article”, which will form the subject of our third story).
As evident from the judgment, what especially infuriated the authorities about all three writings was, beside the actual content, the fact that news of their contents spread rapidly, somewhat easing the isolation of the Hungarian resistance abroad and helping to organize liaison between various groups at home. The Greater Budapest Workers’ Council adopted “Exposé” and “Draft Proposal” as their own program (p. 440).54 All three documents reached the major foreign missions; and a version of the “Proclamation”, endorsed by representatives of all democratic parties, was sent to the Soviet government. (See Andropov’s report: Doc. 172, pp. 457–459.)
Let the third story, therefore, go by the name of The Mystery of the Lost Article. The first point of the sentence reads as follows: “ [...] under the influence of the events, the accused [...] planned to write an article for publication.” (Doc 176, p. 510). Talking about the article twenty years later, Bibó described its content as follows: “The article began with the statement that although the Communist Party was dead, its members were all the more alive” (p. 406). (What this meant to say was that the revolution grew out of a reform movement started solely by Party members, since up to the day of the uprising only they could engage in political activity) The second point suggested that a way out could have been provided by convening the parliament elected in 1947, “but a few days later I realised no sort of continuity was needed, since the revolution sufficed to create its own legitimacy.” (ibid) An argument that could be expected from a student of Barna Horváth’s and Guglielmo Ferrero’s. For some unknown reason, the editors have printed “Elvi tisztázás” (Conceptual Clarification) and “Az elvi tisztázással párhuzamos, befejezetlen gondolatmenet” (Unfinished Thoughts Parallel with Conceptual Clarification)—elsewhere: (Fogalmazvány, [Composition, October 27–29, 1956] as being the planned article [p. 421, footnote]). These manuscripts contain some highly interesting thoughts on Stalinism, the one-party system and class relations in the system, without touching on matters that Bibó had mentioned as the main points of his article (Doc. 164, pp. 421–428).55
Very likely no more than the preamble of the article had been written by early October. The prosecution produced a witness (pp. 406–407) concerning this matter. Already at his first interrogation Bibó testified that he had taken the half-complete manuscript to the Parliament, where Soviet soldiers seized it.56 It ought to be pointed out here that this could not have happened on his leaving the building, i.e. on November 6, as he was then carrying a whole bundle of documents, some of them in duplicate, including the text of the “Proclamation”, of which copies were forwarded to a group of insurgents, American and British diplomats and, on the following day and accompanied by a covering letter, also to a French diplomat; furthermore, he must have carried at least one copy of the first drafts of both the “Exposé” and the “Draft Proposal”, (pp. 438–439).57 Later on he could not recall any show of force by the Soviet soldiers (p. 437). “I was in no way handled violently”, he wrote later in a paragraph that was left out of the book by mischance;58 and further on: “ ... the Soviet soldiers guarding the gate allowed  me to leave the building without any hassle.” (p. 439). It still does not follow, of course, that he had not been forced to hand over some documents to Soviet personnel. This was how he described the event to his interrogating officer: “Accompanying the Soviet soldiers, there was a political official, or interpreter, in civilian clothes. ... This civilian official took my documents, the draft versions of my article completed during the previous week, and also one or two draft versions of the proclamation.”59
Nevertheless, the prosecution badly needed this manuscript as evidence that István Bibó had already planned the overthrow of the constitutional order during the uprising.60 For this reason, his interrogating officer made him reconstruct from memory the text of this non-existent article. Bibó obliged, appending the following note: “The concluding part was not available.”61 János Kenedi published the reconstruction under the title “A forradalom alatt” (During the Revolution).62 It makes excellent reading, but it is not an article.
However, a real—and obviously complete—article did indeed exist; it was the one that István Bibó Jnr., only fifteen at the time, delivered to the editorial office of the literary and political journal Irodalmi Újság  on November 1.63 But what father would drag his own son into a political trial?

Notes

*Taken from Budapesti Könyvszemle—BUKSZ, Fall 1998, pp. 247–261.
1István Bibó, Válogatott tanulmányok (Selected Writings). Vols. I–IV, István Vida eds, (Vols. I–III), István Bibó, Jnr., ed, (Vol. IV), Budapest: Magvetô, 1986 (Vols. I–III), 1990 (Vol. IV), in Tibor Huszár Vol. IV. pp. 711–752.
2Ibid. Vol. IV. pp. 525–587.
3János Tóth, “A magyar európai” (The Hungarian European). In: Bibó nyugatról—éltében, holtában. Külhoni magyarok írásai Bibó Istvánról (Bibó as Seen from the West in his Life and in his Death–Hungarian Emigrés Writing on Bibó). Selected and edited by Péter Kende, Basel–Budapest:  Európai Protestáns Magyar Szabadegyetem, 1997. pp. 117–131.
4Válogatott tanulmányok. Vol. IV, p. 551.
5“Kényszer, jog, szabadság” (Coercion, Right, Freedom). In: Válogatott tanulmányok. Vol. I, pp. 5–147.
6János Tóth, p. 118.
7Among the invited lecturers who gave courses in the academic year 1934–1935 were Bronislaw Malinowski, Lionel Robbins, Henri Hauser. (Doc. 31–32, pp. 103–104.)
8“Idegen államok perelhetôsége és az ellenük vezethetô végrehajtási cselekmények a svájci jogban” (The Prospects of Starting Legal Procedures Against Foreign States and the Acts of Enforcement Permitted in Swiss Law). In: Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol IV, pp. 53–106.
  9“Elôadás a német nemzetiszocializmusról” (A Lecture on German National Socialism), Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. IV, pp. 107–128.
10See: “Bibó István nyomtatásban megjelent mûvei”
(István Bibó’s Works in Publication.) Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. III, pp. 535–541.
11Doc. 48, pp. 120–121. “1948. februári önéletrajz” (Curriculum vitae from 1948.) in: István Bibó, Beszélgetések, politikai és életrajzi dokumentumok (Conversations, Political and Biographical Documents.) Tibor Huszár, ed., Debrecen: Kolonel, pp. 364–366.
12Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. III. pp. 535–536.
13See: ibid. Articles in Hungarian: “Etika és büntetôjog” (Ethics and the Penal Law), ibid. Vol. I., pp. 161–182; “Erdei Ferenc munkássága a magyar parasztság válságának irodalmában” (Ferenc Erdei’s Work in the Literature on the Crisis of Hungarian Peasantry). Ibid. Vol. I., pp. 183–201.
14The prosecution in question was that instituted against the authors of the March Front’s 1938 Program Manifesto. István Bibó helped in drafting it (p. 46) The accused were Ferenc Erdei, Géza Féja, Gyula Illyés, Imre Kovács, György Sárközi. See: Gyula Borbándi, A magyar népi mozgalom. A harmadik reformnemzedék (The Hungarian Populist Movement: The third reform generation). Budapest: Püski, 1989, p. 295.
15See the jubilee issue of the review Magyar Szemle, December 1997, No. 11–12.
16Beszélgetések, politikai, életrajzi dokumentumok (Conversations, Political and Biographical Documents.) Tibor Huszár, ed., Debrecen: Magyar Krónika, Kolonel. pp. 221–223.
17In: Beszélgetések, p. 355.
18“A nyílt tengeri légi kikötôk kérdése, 1932.” (The Question of the Open Sea Ports, 1932) In: Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. III, p. 535.
19Ibid. Vol. I, pp. 203–220.
20The manuscript volumes of Az európai egyensúlyról és békérôl  (On the Balance of Powers and Peace in Europe), (In: Ibid. Vol. I, pp. 295–635) were only rediscovered after István Bibó’s death. See Sándor Szilágyi’s notes (ibid. pp. 677–679).
21At the moment “A német hisztéria okai és története” forms the 2nd chapter of Vol. I. in Az európai békérôl és egyensúlyról (In: ibid. Vol. I, pp. 365–482). Bibó gave an account of the plans to smuggle the article out of the country in a letter written to Karl Mannheim in 1945. (ibid. p. 678).
22“Korunk diagnózisa” (The Diagnosis of Our Age). In: ibid.,                         Vol. I, pp. 243–270.
23Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. III, pp. 538–539.
24Ibid. Vol. II, pp. 13–79.
25The Social and Political Development of Europe. Lecture, Ókécske, August 12, 1947 (with responses) Kécskei Kalendárium (Kécske Calendar). (Erzsébet Tajti, ed., Tiszakécske, 1993, pp. 239–272.
26Válogatott tanulmányok , Vol. III, pp. 5–123.
27Ibid. Vol. II, pp. 367–397.
28Ibid. p. 397.
29Ibid. Vol. I, pp. 295–635.
30Ibid. Vol. II, pp. 185–265.
31Beszélgetések, p. 233. Of the seven chapters in The Distress of East European Small States, five had already been published in Hungary before the Paris Peace Conference started on July 29, 1946. (Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. III, p. 538).
32Beszélgetések, pp. 240–241.
33“Die Lage Ungarns und die Lage der Welt. Vorschlag zur Lösung der Ungarn-Frage”. Die Presse, September 8, 1957. pp. 5–6 and 39–40. In Hungarian: “Emlékirat: Magyarország helyzete és a világhelyzet” (Memorandum: The Situation of Hungary and the World Situation). In: Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. IV, pp. 213–238.
34Tibor Huszár, “Bibó István–a gondolkodó, a politikus (1984–1985)”. (István Bibó–Thinker and Politician [1984– 1985]). In: Válogatott tanulmányok,  Vol. III, p. 613, note 158.
35The Paralysis of International Relations and the Remedies. A Study of Self-Determination, Concord among the Major Powers, and Political Arbitration, The Harvester Press, Hassocks, 1976. (Halsted Press, USA, 1976.) In Hungarian: “A nemzetközi államközösség bénultsága és annak orvosságai. Önrendelkezés, nagyhatalmi egyetértés, politikai döntôbíráskodás”. In: Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. IV, pp. 283–681.
36“Észak-Irország kérdése egy lehetséges pártatlan politikai döntôbírósági döntés fényében” (The Issue of Northern Ireland in the Light of a Possible Unbiased Political Arbitration). In: ibid. Vol. IV, pp. 683–710.
37Géza Herczegh, “Bibó István—válogatás nélkül” (István Bibó—Unselected) Magyar Szemle, 1995, No. 6, p. 685.
38“A nemzetközi államközösség bénultsága...”, Part II, Chapter 6: a) “A világméretû központi hatalom és elituralom programjai” (International Central Power and the Programs of Elite Rule, ibid. 374–378); b) “A világméretû központi hatalom és elituralom legitimitásának lehetséges forrásai” (The Possible Sources of International Central Power and Elite Rule, ibid.
pp. 378–381).
39“A kapitalista liberalizmus és a szocializmus-kommunizmus állitólagos kiegyenlíthetetlen ellentéte” (The Alleged Irreconcilable Conflict between Capitalist Liberalism and Socialism-Communism) 1979. In: ibid. Vol IV, pp. 759–782. A sketch of the incomplete study: pp. 795–798.
40Beszélgetések, pp. 8–9.
41By 1993 six more of Bibó’s books were published abroad, one of them in the form of a special edition of a magazine. Iván Zoltán Dénes, ed., A hatalom humanizálása. Tanulmányok Bibó István életmûvérôl (The Humanization of Power. Essays on István Bibó’s Lifework), Pécs: Tanulmány Kiadó, 1993. pp. 370–376. The Distress of East European Small States and The Causes and History of German Hysteria turned out to be the favorites of the selecting editors; extracts from Paralysis were also published.
42A fogoly Bibó István vallomásai az 1956-os forradalomról (István Bibó’s Attestations in Custody about the 1956 Revolution). Arranged for publication by János Kenedi. Budapest: 1956-os Intézet, 1996.
43Four days before his arrest he wrote to the classical scholar Károly Marót: “whenever I am off to a place of unknown destination, carrying only the bare essentials (as on November 4, 1956), I always take along the Iliad and the Odyssey.  In: Magántörténelem (Private History), p. 543.
44Béla Király, Az elsô háború szocialista országok között. Személyes visszaemlékezés az 1956-os magyar forradalomra (The First War between Socialist Countries. Personal Recollections of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution). Tanuk—korunkról (Witnesses—Of Our Own Age). New Brunswick: Magyar Öregdiák Szövetség—Bessenyei György Kör, 1981. pp. 57–61.
45A fogoly Bibó István vallomásai, p. 49.
46The text of the telegram was published by János Kenedi, ibid. p. 56; for the first Hungarian publication and its sources, see ibid. p. 206, note 1.
47Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. IV, pp. 165–168.
48A fogoly Bibó István vallomásai, pp. 111, 117, and 119.
49Beszélgetések, pp. 6, 215.
50“To punish these types of actions—in passing the sentence—the full force of the law is usually applied...” “The prospects of correction and re-education, as well as the the mitigating circumstances, play a relatively lesser role in the case of persons committing such severe crimes.” (Doc. 176,
p. 530) The words ‘usually’ and ‘relative’ in the first and second sentences respectively could have been the ones the Court had to insert belatedly, before giving in a brief passage its reasons for not applying the most severe punishment.
51ibid. Vol. IV, pp. 169–177; this is the piece István Bibó usually refers to as the plan for a political solution
(pp. 438–440). Only the text of “Exposé” introducing the points of the Tervezet is included in the documents of this book (Doc. 168, pp. 451–452). As for the rest of the interview (pp. 441–442), it could be an early draft of “Nyilatkozat” of December 8 (ibid. Vol. IV, pp. 189–196), born out of the “Exposé”.
52The December 8 version: ibid. Vol. IV, pp. 189-196; One of the intermediate versions dated from November: “A Magyar Demokratikus Függetlenségi Mozgalom kibontakozási javaslata (The Hungarian Democratic Independence Movement’s Proposition for a Political Solution). In: István Bibó, Különbség (Difference), pp. 124–130.
53The only conflicting evidence in this case comes from the text of the sentence, where the article is described as running to 21 pages (Doc. 176, p. 514).
54See: 1956. A forradalom kronológiája és bibliográfiája. (1956. The Chronology and Bibliography of the Revolution).  László Varga, ed., Budapest: Századvég—Atlantisz—1956-os Intézet,  1970. p. 74.
55Válogatott tanulmányok, Vol. IV, pp. 139–156.
56A fogoly Bibó István vallomásai, p. 44.
57Guy Turbet-Delof published the text of the cover letter: Egy francia diplomata a forradalomban. Guy Turbet-Delof 1956-os naplója (A French Diplomat in the Revolution. Guy Turbet-Delof’s 1956 Diary), Budapest:  Francia Intézet—1956-os Intézet, 1996. p. 102. Bibó went to see the cultural attaché on the morning of November 7; he recalled “dictating a sketch of the proposed political solution” (p. 439.). According to Turbet-Delof’s diary, the dictation was done over the phone on that evening (ibid., p. 106.), with the finished composition arriving on November 10. (p. 123).

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