Monday, Oct. 09, 1950

Broken Promises

In Austria last week a trusted emissary of Hungary's Roman Catholic bishops, who had slipped past the Iron Curtain, gave the first details of how his church had sought to stop its complete liquidation by coming to terms with Communist Boss Matyas Rakosi (TIME, Sept. 11). What Rakosi had given, Rakosi had taken away.

"It's No Use." Since Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty went to jail 21 months ago for defying the Red regime, 63-year-old Archbishop Joseph Grosz of Kalocsa has headed Hungary's bench of bishops. No weakling, Grosz once refused a Nazi order backed by machine guns, to leave his palace. Last June he protested to Rakosi when the Communists seized the monasteries and convents of Transdanubia, the heartland of Catholic Hungary. Rakosi smoothly replied that the state was ready to negotiate. At the time, monks and nuns were being imprisoned by the thousands and the bishops decided they had no choice but to sit down with the Communists.

Negotiations began July 9 in the grey Victorian offices of the Ministry of Education in Budapest. Rakosi himself represented the state. Fearing his age and slowness of speech might handicap the church's case, Archbishop Grosz appointed a chief advocate: Father Ferenc Horvath, a red-cheeked little Jesuit priest of 45.

Horvath opened by demanding the release of Cardinal Mindszenty. Replied Rakosi: "Please, no arguments. The people decided that."

Horvath was insistent: "You know as well as I who really decided that," he said. "It was anything but a people's decision."

Answered Rakosi: "It's no use. We can't turn the clock back." In the weeks following, the church brought up Mindszenty again & again. Rakosi was adamant.

Monks in Underwear. In later sessions, the talk turned to religious education and the survival of monasteries. Rakosi promised to return eight of the 157 church schools he had seized two years ago, and to include religious courses in the curriculum of Hungarian schools. But he insisted that the monasteries must go. While the talks went on, crews of Communist thugs were emptying monasteries and convents, in September emptied the last.

Rakosi said that monks and nuns could work with priests in villages, teach in the Communist-run schools, or become itinerants. But as organized orders they were through. Furthermore, they would not be allowed to wear habits. Broad-shouldered Archbishop Gyula Czapik angrily asked: "How would you like it if you saw monks running around in their underwear? Wouldn't it make any difference to you?" Snapped Rakosi: "No."

Jesuit Horvath broke in: "How can you make such an offer? And how can you expect monks to teach against their principles, from Communist textbooks?" Answered Rakosi: "I made you an offer. Take it or leave it. If you leave it, you openly admit you refuse to educate Hungarian youth, the right to which you demand."

What Assurance? With no place to turn, Archbishop Grosz finally signed. But in the first month of the agreement 1) only two monks were released; 2) not a single class of religious instruction was started in a single Hungarian school; 3) four of the eight church schools which the Reds had returned were "given back" to the state; 4) Communist teachers were operating the remaining four because their monks were still in jail.

Toward the end of the negotiations, Bishop Czapik had asked Rakosi: "In four years, you people in the government haven't kept one of your promises. So what assurance do we have that you will keep the new ones?" Rakosi replied: "Very well, you don't believe us. What are you going to do about it?"

Physically, there was almost nothing the church could do about it.

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