Farewell to My Friend István Deák

After 1956 and over the following decade many left Hungary, among them numerous historian colleagues. István Deák however left already in 1948, when optimistic illusions still lived in many of us. His early departure was not of necessity: he was not driven out by private coercion but rather he woke up before others to the fact that, in the developing circumstances of the Cold War, he would not be able to succeed without relinquishing his principles.Despite leaving, he didn’t lose his interest in the fate of his homeland, his attachment to Hungarian and—indivisible from that—Central European history, or the need to engage with these. He didn’t want to completely lose touch with the Hungarian historical profession; although exactly in the 1950s this was not easy: in fact, for a good decade it was hardly possible. His personal connection to Hungarian history writing was also hindered by his employment in the first years at Radio Free Europe in Munich and his participation in the execution of an insignificant and short-lived action, namely the transmission of leaflets across the Hungarian border with the aid of balloons. “That Deák with the balloons?,” the ÁVH [state-security] agents angrily asked, when my friends and I were organizing a commemoration of the fiftieth anniversary of the just-rehabilitated 1919 Republic of Councils in Hungary and had convinced the leadership that it would increase the prestige of the conference if we also invited Western experts such as Rudolf Tőkés and Deák. By the 1970s, Deák’s trips to Budapest were already possible; what’s more, his essays could appear in the leading Hungarian history journal, Századok.In subsequent years Deák played a leading role in the cooperation of domestic and American Hungarian historians, together with Bélá Király and Péter Pásztor [Pastor], who launched a successful series of joint publications. The collaboration was of course not without risk. Known “’56ers” such as Király could not return to their homeland. Others complained, István said to me once, that the state security would try to recruit young American scholars. But this way at least we know, István added with a chuckle, that whoever doesn’t complain has been recruited.Both of us were interested in the history, composition, and character of the officer corps of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy’s military; moreover, the idea arose that we would write a book together, but we had to recognize the difficulties of such work at a distance. In this way we approached the subject from separate and different angles, which we nevertheless both persisted at. István’s book (Beyond Nationalism: A Social and PoliticalHistory of the Habsburg Officer Corps, 1848–1918) was published in 1990. As a result of its great success, it was also translated into Hungarian and German. My own book on a similar subject (Tisztikar és Középosztály, 1850–1914: Ferenc József magyar tisztjei [Officer corps and the middle class, 1850–1914: Franz Joseph’s Hungarian officers]) appeared in Hungarian in 1999. Our collaboration was not exhausted with this, nor did it come to an end in the following decades.On my trips to New York City I enjoyed the hospitality of the Deák couple on several occasions; I also stayed at their place. Before my first trip to the US, I asked István for advice, among other things about how I should dress in New York. István replied, laughing: there is nothing you can wear in this city that would stick out. When I was able to take advantage of a six-month American fellowship, István sent a special letter around to his friends who were heads of history departments, asking them to invite me to give a lecture or two, in that way among other things helping to supplement my fellowship grant. To be on the safe side, in accordance with the truth, he noted in his letter, “his English is rather soft.”In recent years, unfortunately, it was difficult for both of us to undertake air travel. Our correspondence also became less frequent than it had been. I for my part think about István often—perhaps he also did not forget me.If my short tribute perhaps seems to minimize the difficulties of the Cold War period, and even that relatively more peaceful one following it, I must emphasize: that was not my intention. I also don’t want to be silent about the fact that we did not see eye to eye on everything; we had differences, not so much about history as in terms of our world views—I could also write about those. But I want to emphasize: common professional interests and goodwill smooth over such conflicts. In lieu of explanations let me close with a small episode, which is not connected to István personally (but all the more so with the nature of our relationship).I mentioned our common friend, General Béla Király. With his diplomatic nature and exceptional conduct he could accomplish all kinds of things—for example, in my case that I was provided admission into US archives where it would have been more difficult without his intervention. He organized a Hungarian-Hungarian symposium at a very pleasant location: the Rockefeller Foundation’s center near Lake Como. Just then the renowned American novelist Bernard Malamud was spending time there with the help of a grant for the writing of a novella. I couldn’t resist telling him how much I love his works, and in order to foster intimacy I pronounced his name not in English but as in the original Hebrew (M’Lamed). In this way we came to converse several times, until once he turned to me and said, “allow me a perhaps awkward question: here you are together, Hungarians, for better or worse, who emigrated to the US, and you who, for better or worse, drove them out. Nonetheless you sit here together until midnight and cordially discuss, while there could be resentment among you. How is that even possible?” “It’s very simple,” I replied, “what we talk about and debate is what excites all of us above all: our country, Hungary’s past, but most of all its future.”

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