Balázs Ablonczy. Ismeretlen Trianon: Az összeomlás és a békeszerződés történetei, 1918–1921 [Unknown Trianon: histories of the collapse and the peace treaty, 1918–21]

Abstract

Unknown Trianon is arguably the most comprehensive book on the Hungarian Trianon Treaty. Its author, Balázs Ablonczy, is also the leader of the Trianon 100 Lendület Group, a collective research project supported by the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. That the book appeared in the centenary year is no coincidence. Within this context, Ablonczy aims to shed new light on the history of the Trianon Treaty, namely on the social histories that envelop it. The book contains three identifiable underlying endeavors, some of which are explicitly discussed in the introduction, which serves as the book’s first chapter. The first is to transcend political history and the history of diplomacy by presenting the social and local aspects of macrohistory. The second is to summarize the existing research—especially research conducted by the Trianon 100 group—and reveal the need for further studies. The third and most important endeavor—Ablonczy’s implicit purpose—is to reconcile the issue of the treaty with a mutual understanding of the historical actors. These aims bring a new perspective to the topic and allow the author to remain objective while deflating the legends surrounding Trianon.In the second chapter, “What Would Have Happened If . . . ?,” Ablonczy—citing Niall Ferguson—employs the counterfactual history approach. He uses this to identify the historic moments (or, the moments that posterity has identified as having historic significance) when events could have gone in a different direction. The author investigates extensively the assassination of Prime Minister István Tisza in October 1918, the unsuccessful military organization by the Mihály Károlyi regime, the first Hungarian Soviet Republic, the organization of referendums, and the signing of the Trianon Treaty, and also possible alternative historical scenarios that could have occurred. Through this approach Ablonczy fundamentally weakens the reader’s potential will to entertain any such alternative historical scenarios.In chapter 3, “Winter City,” Ablonczy presents the local circumstances of successor states assuming power through the example of Gyulafehérvár (Alba Iulia), the city where the National Council of Romanians proclaimed Transylvania’s “union” with Romania on December 1, 1918. The chapter focuses on the different types of actors. The author attempts to understand the coordinate system of their actions by contextualizing their stories and the related events. Through this method, he draws the readers closer to these figures and the events they actively participated in. “The nation is often not too grateful for its architects” (66), Ablonczy notes, while summarizing the unfortunate fates of the founding fathers of Greater Romania at the end of the chapter.The next two chapters enter the field of diplomacy. The topic is unavoidable when trying to understand Hungarian foreign policy’s room to maneuver amidst the policy goals of the great powers. Ablonczy first (chapter 4) discusses the national peace delegation’s various ambitions, how the Wilsonian principles were set aside, how the French and the British competed to control the Danube trade route, and how the Italians sought to gain a foothold on the northwestern gulf of the Adriatic Sea. At the end of the fourth chapter, he highlights the political goals behind American economic assistance to Hungary and the little-known story of the so-called children’s trains, by which tens of thousands of Hungarian children traveled to the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland, Sweden, and England to regain their health after the war. Some of these children never returned to Hungary.Ablonczy then delves into the ambitions and opportunities of the Hungarian peace preparations and foreign policy (chapter 5). After discussing the political realities of Hungary’s Soviet Republic government, the issues related to the country’s sovereignty and recognition, and the intervention and occupation by the Entente forces, Ablonczy diagnoses “the asynchrony of Hungarian foreign policy” (95). By stressing the delayed reactions and the poor decisions made by Hungarian politicians and assessing the roles they took during the years of change, the author concludes that these factors reveal not only a forced peace but also bewilderment.Chapter 6 discusses the three waves of paramilitary violence during postwar Hungary. On the one hand, Ablonczy presents the various forms of the little-known peasant revolution that gathered under the banner of many motivations—anti-elite, anti-urban, anti-Hungarian, and anti-Jewish—and caused more deaths than the Red and White Terrors combined. On the other hand, Ablonczy’s treatment of the violence accompanying the occupation forces is brief. He limits his thoughts to the proposal of an East-West violence slope and the comparison of the Red and White Terrors. Nevertheless, Ablonczy argues that these waves of violence brought the war experience, namely a war after the war, to the people.Chapters 7 to 9 deal with the particular geographies of the Trianon Treaty. First, Ablonczy explains the territorial scripts of the successor states (chapter 7). Namely, he outlines the idea of the Slavic corridor and the Czechoslovakian idea about a Danubian state. Ablonczy also outlines how the states emerging from the ruins of historic Hungary aimed to optimize their negotiating positions by occupying Hungarian territories; and how the Serbs and the Romanians came up with different official territorial claims and various unofficial claims that often conflicted with the plans of the other. At this point in the book, Ablonczy draws upon the personal relationships of the actors in question and examines what roles these relationships may have played.The author applies this tool in his discussion of the so-called mayfly, or short-lived, states [kérészállamok], presenting some of the propagators and originators of these states. The comparisons peak in the eighth chapter; Ablonczy thoroughly compares the short-lived states in the Carpathian Basin using the following features: the origins of the founders (locals or outsiders), realization, ideology, forerunners, and the end of these states.Secondly, Ablonczy also shows some examples from other European regions, arguing that the origins of modern Estonia and Latvia also possessed the attributes of the short-lived states in the initial phase.Thirdly, in chapter 9, Ablonczy analyzes how the successor states consolidated their power. He does not argue for an exclusive model of power transfer. Instead, he describes the various paths the states could have followed. Yet, the parallel workings of the old Hungarian and the new successor administration; the fluctuating violence; the massacres; the pulling down of statues; the renaming and redesigning of public spaces; the differing housing allocation practices; the transformation of education, the postal service, and railways; and the required oaths of allegiance were common motifs that could accompany the power changes in the successor states. Ablonczy also notes that Hungary could have fared worse; despite the trauma of Trianon, the Carpathian Basin remained intact, and it avoided the systematic ethnic cleansing that marred other countries during this period.The final three chapters place social history in the spotlight. In chapter 10, Ablonczy outlines his recent research topic, refugee histories, i.e., the history of those who had to flee to Hungary from the successor states. The author claims that the refugee story remains largely untold and unexploited and thus calls for further systematic research. Ablonczy also addresses some stereotypical assumptions, specifically about the share of civil servants and the ratio of forced migration. The chapter addresses several aspects of this migration, including the story of postal and railway workers, the relocation of the high school for mining and forestry from Selmecbánya (Banská Štiavnica), the circumstances of the “wagon dwellers,” the housing issues, and the social integration of the refugees. Ablonczy also highlights the ambiguous attitude that Hungarian society and the country’s political elite harbored toward this migration crisis—in particular, how the Horthy regime tried to obstruct the migrant flow because it increasingly regarded it as a social threat. Ablonczy also utilizes literature and memoirs to reveal the onerous situation of the refugees. He reports on the sanctions the refugees faced: sanctions activated both by those who stayed at home (in Romania, Czechoslovakia, etc.) and by the host society. As a result, the author argues that silence became a strategy for successful integration, which helps explain why and how the issue of post-war Hungarian refugees became an untold story.Chapter 11 provides a comprehensive overview of various issues that affected daily life in the postwar period. These issues included the local supply of coal and food, the local presence of the Spanish flu, how these manifested in the demographic processes with an increasing marriage rate, and the change in women’s societal roles concerning employment or empowerment. The chapter also explores the territorial aspects of the economic and social crisis, including the regional inequalities; the crisis regions in the east; the urban-rural opposition concerning food supply, or, in general, the decrease in living standards; and the weakening of the middle class.The picture Ablonczy paints in the last, twelfth, chapter concerning the dissolution of the Austrian–Hungarian Monarchy is also rich. Here he reviews the material aspects of this dissolution (delineating the final border in nature, rearranging the Hungarian county system, smuggling, church administration, the arrangement of estates, and war reparations). He also considers the memories of Trianon and how these were maintained and reproduced, how the issue of Trianon became entangled with the fate of ethnic Hungarians abroad, and how it was identified as the primary metaphor for evil in Hungarian public memory.In addition to being a good read, Balázs Ablonczy’s book is recommended for anyone interested in a comprehensive examination of the Trianon Treaty that dispels myths and legends. At the same time, it is an excellent read for those seeking entertainment: the dramaturgy Ablonczy employs in his storytelling uncovers a clear intention of engaging the reader as far as the subject allows. The abundance of examples elevates this dramatic flair. Though the book lacks pictures, Ablonczy’s prose is vivid enough to imprint memorable images, and his frequent practice of introducing a chapter with a novelistic episode helps bring the period to life. With these tools, Ablonczy demonstrates his broad knowledge and sense of literature. Finally, the book is relevant to the context of our time because the wartime issues mirror the present over and over again.