VALDEMAR LANGLET AND THE
“GRATEFUL” BUDAPEST
The Swede
journalist Valdemar Langlet
(1872-1960) lived with his wife Nina (1896-1988) in Budapest from 1932.
Valdemar
lectured in Swedish at the university. His wife, of Russian descent, gave piano
lessons. They acquired a good grasp of Hungarian, had a wide circle of
acquaintances, took part in society affairs and had outstanding connections
within the “upper crust”.
The Langlets were Esperantists.
Nina, a member of the esperantist Russian Borovko family, became famous with her connection to Zamenhof, Valdemar, on the other
hand, was the first president of the Swedish Esperanto Society. He first came
to Budapest in
1902, making contact with the newly-formed Hungarian Esperanto Society, then indulging his favourite
pastime of horse-riding in the Hortobágy. He came to Hungary for the
second time in 1931 to criss-cross the country during the course of a
horse-riding tour.
The book of
his journey (“On Horseback Through Hungary”) which
appeared in Swedish and English, devoted much space to the “praiseworthy past”
of the country, as well as acquainting the readers with 40 historical people. A special chapter dealt with Trianon, the “injustice inflicted on Greater Hungary”. He
identified with the feelings and irrational approach suggested by the
irredentist propaganda. “It cannot be
that so many hearts shed so much blood in vain…..No, no, never!” was the final
sentence in an article he wrote for a Hungarian newspaper. (“1100 kilometres
in the Saddle”, in Pesti Hirlap Vasárnapja March 23,
1932) When he then realised
that irredentism was leading to a policy of war, he confined his activities to
fostering Swedish/Hungarian relations.
Langlet,
who spoke excellent German, was already 72 years old when the Germans invaded Hungary and,
from the first day, operated arm in arm with the Hungarian authorities.
Beginning on March 19, 1944, those who had opposed the politics of war were
rounded up in large numbers. From Valdemar’s circle
of acquaintances many were forced to flee, even that very day.
The Langlets’ Lónyai-street residence
was packed to the rafters with refugees.
Being esperantists they accepted everyone,
regardless of language, nationality, religion and citizenship. By April 1944
they had accepted so many
escapees who were lying
low in their residence that, in the strict meaning of the word, there was no room for Valdemar, who had to sleep over at a friend’s house. In
endeavouring to provide a greater degree of security
for the constant flood of refugees, he managed to get himself appointed the
Chief Operations Officer in Budapest
for the Swedish Red Cross. Although in reality this did not authorise
him to do anything, he could operate under the aegis of the Red Cross. A forceful presence, language skills and
excellent connections allowed him to save tens of thousands of lives. Utilising the Swedish Red Cross and the Swedish Embassy, he
invented the concept of
“protected houses”, which, although having
no foundation in international law, were in general respected by the
Hungarian authorities and, as a result, sheltered occupants were in relative
safety. (Nina Langlet:
The Swedish Rescue Operation. Budapest
1988).
From May of
1944, he hindered the deportations by issuing Swedish Red Cross letters of
protection to many thousands being persecuted, and arranged for them to
go into hiding. In truth the letters of protection nevertheless had no standing
in international law. They worked because Langlet,
through his excellent connections, had them accepted
by the police and the German patrols, and later even the Arrow Cross
authorities accepted them. With the authorities he agreed on four hundred
letters of protection, but issued at least four thousand. There were those
rescued from the deportation lines; and on one occasion he distributed letters of protection
to a whole labour company. The plain-paper document
was also forged in large quantities.
Langlet
only worked with volunteers. His network
quickly grew so big that, even in peacetime, it would have counted as the
largest civil organisation. The volunteers were organised
into 16 divisions, had 12 vehicles including two trucks; a workshop; and even a
petrol station. He co-opted two
monasteries and seven convents, where mostly children and mothers with infants
were hidden. Although the fate of rural jewry
was already sealed, he tried to establish rural branches. His greatest success
was in Pécs. Together with his wife, Nina, he managed
unbelievable workloads with great inventiveness.
All this
took place under the aegis of the Red Cross, in truth without direction from Stockholm; in fact they
were not really aware of his operations and, at best, only became aware of this
or that much later. The Swedish Ambassador also had very little to do with the
organization; at best he just put up with it, sometimes being forced to recognise the outcomes.
Per Anger, the
consular secretary, supported them in so far as was possible for an employee
who does not identify with his boss. Certain actions on the part of the Red
Cross and ambassador made the Langlets’ work
especially difficult. To this day these matters have not seen the light of day. (Bjorn Runberg: The Forgotten Hero Valdemar
Langlet Budapest 2007 deals with this topic).
The Budapest
Jewish Council also trusted Langlet. They gave him the Auschwitz Report which
documented the genocide. He immediately
translated it into Swedish and tried to forward it to King Gustav V, a personal
acquaintance. The Swedish ambassador in Budapest doubted the
authenticity of the document, and vetoed its forwarding to the King. Langlet did not
give up and, with the aid of the consular secretary, forwarded it to the
Foreign Ministry; from there, although delayed, it got to the King. Gustav V
immediately wrote a letter to the Regent, Miklós
Horthy. Langlet and the consular secretary sought out
Horthy to hand-deliver the King’s letter and, through doggedness and
persistence, they
finally succeeded; so that, on June 22, the police were ordered to halt the
deportations. Langlet with this one act saved the
lives of more people than all other rescue operations combined. In truth Horthy
was being pressured from other directions as well, and the Allied landing at Normandy was also a
warning sign.
After the
cessation of deportation, at Langlet’s request the
Swedish Foreign Ministry sent Raoul Wallenberg to Budapest as consular
secretary, to organise humanitarian work. On arrival Wallenberg approached Langlet to be informed of the situation and, taking the
advice offered, started issuing Swedish Embassy letters of asylum. Meanwhile Langlet
managed to get the Hungarian and German authorities to extend the “validity” of
the previously distributed letters of protection. To this end the indefatigable Langlet later held discussions with the Arrow Cross Foreign
Minister and, at an official level, had the absurdity that the Swedish Red
Cross was a separate diplomatic entity accepted. If not without hiccups, the
“letters of protection factory” operated continuously, together with the
various Red Cross offices, and places where the persecuted were quickly
directed to acceptable places. The number of “protected” apartments and houses
grew continuously, as it was enough to mark the edifice with a recognisable emblem and placard. Wallenberg issued embassy
safe-conduct passes exclusively to Jews; Langlet and
his volunteers rescued everyone being persecuted. Wallenberg, a member of Sweden’s
richest family, and a paid employee of the embassy was independently well supplied with funds. Langlet
on the other hand received no pay or support from the embassy, nor from the Red
Cross. Beside private donations, all his assets were used to save people. He continued his work even after Wallenberg
departed from Budapest.
During the
Arrow Cross regime Langlet moved with relative ease,
at least at the
beginning, through the city, as
gradually diplomatic immunity receded in value. The Arrow Cross even
dragged people out of the Swedish Embassy.
When the Swedish Government officially ended the operations of the Red
Cross, Langlet took over the network and all the infrastructure, and operated it under the auspices
of the Swedish-Hungarian Association, which with foresight was established in
the summer. Under its aegis, it was very difficult to operate and, in the last
weeks, even he had to hide out. Even after the siege, the Langlets
did not rest, but organised the distribution of food
and medicine shipments in ruined, hungry Budapest.
As an outcome of the stressful work, Valdemar’s
health deteriorated to such an extent that, on May 31, he was transported to Sweden. In that year he received the Hungarian Republic’s Order of the Cross
but, in retirement, was forgotten, and
lived in total poverty.
Now the
capital city plans to rename the Danube’s
lower quays after the people-rescuers from the Arrow Cross period. In general there is no point in weighing up
who saved how many lives whilst risking his/her own. At this time the proponents owe an
explanation, as it appears
that Valdemar and Nina Langlet, who saved the most people, will not be included in
this honour.
WHY NOT?
Szeged,
2010
Árpád RÁTKAI
English
version by Mrs. Andrea Hegyesi, Australia, revised by David R. Curtis, Great Britain