This volume is part of the Documenting Life and Destruction: Holocaust Sources in Context series and, as such, promises to “present original historical documents on the Holocaust within an explanatory narrative” (xi). Zoltán Vági, László Csősz, and Gábor Kádár—representatives of a talented new generation of Hungarian historians—certainly deliver and provide a carefully researched and masterfully crafted account of the tragic fate of Hungary's once thriving Jewish community. The volume is organized around 156 judiciously selected documents, collected in more than twenty different archives and repositories. Most of these sources—many of them from small provincial archives—were hitherto inaccessible to the English-speaking public. With the aid of diary entries, postwar testimonies, photographs, and official documents, Vági, Csősz, and Kádár paint a vivid picture of the Holocaust in Hungary, which they justifiably call “not only the final major chapter of the Nazi genocide, but also the peak of its evolution” (xxx).

The volume has an extremely useful introduction. After reading it, even those unversed in the complexities of this tragic chapter of Hungarian history have the necessary information to proceed to the ten thematically and chronologically organized following chapters. From the first chapter, it is clear that the authors reject any attempts to shrink Hungarian responsibilities. They argue that while a legislative framework that allowed for the systematic and total disenfranchisement of Hungarian Jewry started in 1938, it was “not the starting point of Hungary's antisemitic tradition” (1). However, the 1938 and 1939 Jewish Laws were overtly anti-Semitic and, as Vági, Csősz, and Kádár aver, “can be considered independent, organically Hungarian developments,” for “Hitler had not demanded them” (9). The authors further state that not even the Third Jewish Law of 1941—the so-called “Race Protection Law,” which was stricter than Nazi Germany's Nuremberg Laws (12) – was “enacted due to direct pressure from Germany.” Rather, it was designed by Hungarians to impress Berlin and was but “another step in a policy of separating out Jews and preventing their acculturation and assimilation” (9).

Chapter 2 examines the time period between 1938 and 1944 and shows the ways discrimination evolved into the first mass murder of Jews. The authors illustrate that the government passed laws that paved the way to “bureaucratic antisemitism” (such as the refusal of Jewish business licenses) and “illegal antisemitism” (measures going beyond the letter of the law, such as prohibiting Jewish merchants from selling their goods at markets and fairs) that continued to marginalize Hungarian Jewry (24–25). In the summer of 1941, the government took steps to remove “unsuitable aliens residing in the country,” which in reality meant that seventeen thousand to eighteen thousand Jews, largely without proof of Hungarian citizenship, were deported to the Kamenets-Podolski district, where the vast majority was murdered.

The three subsequent chapters examine the process of ghettoization, the methods of mass deportation, and the terror of the Hungarian Arrow Cross. On 19 March 1944, the German army occupied Hungary. The next day, Adolf Eichmann and his small special unit arrived. By 7 April, there was a plan for the ghettoization of Hungarian Jewry. The authors utilize survival testimonies and government decrees to illustrate the process. Voices of the Nagyvárad (Oradea) ghetto—an infamously brutal one—provide the reader with chilling details of the brutality of Hungarian gendarmes (Doc. 3–9). By 22 April, German and Hungarian authorities decided on the total deportation of Hungarian Jewry. However, as the authors point out, when Eichmann arrived, he did so “without a complete and detailed plan.” Between 15 May and 6 July, Eichmann, enjoying “enthusiastic and efficient Hungarian support,” carried out the deportation of 437,402 Hungarian Jews (xxviii–xxix). Most of them arrived at Auschwitz and were subsequently murdered. Vági, Csősz, and Kádár illustrate beyond a doubt the culpability of Hungarian authorities, including that of the Regent, Miklós Horthy, who did halt the deportation—if only temporarily—without much resistance.

In chapter 6 the authors depict the Hungarian government's confiscation of Jewish wealth. By appropriating Jewish assets, the government expected to solve the budget crisis, as well as its daunting social problems (179). However, the government not only failed to provide the “legal” framework for the state-sanctioned robbery, but also failed to process and redistribute stolen goods. In the end, most of the Jewish assets—together with non-Jewish Hungarian assets—were shipped out of the country. In the next chapter, the reader is confronted with the brutal reality of the Nazi camp system. Among the many documents, there is one enduring image of Auschwitz: a photograph of Sril and Zelig Jákob on the “Jewish ramp” at Birkenau just before they were sent to the gas chamber together with 300,000 to 345,000 Hungarian Jews (Doc. 7–2).

Jewish and non-Jewish responses to the Holocaust in Hungary are examined in chapters 8 and 9. The authors provide documents and a succinct explanation of a variety of individual and collective strategies for survival, including that of the Jewish Council, appeals to the Christian Hungarian society, and struggles of young Zionist resistance fighters, such as David Gur. Most of the Hungarians, state the authors, “passively observed the maltreatment of their Jewish compatriots” (279). The roles of churches, the international community, and the small minority who opposed institutionalized persecution and rescued Jews are also examined. The final chapter offers an overview of postwar Jewish life from liberation to recent times.

This reviewer would have liked to see in this otherwise outstanding volume a more detailed discussion on the Roma victims of the Holocaust in Hungary. As the authors note, Hungary's Roma population continues to face prejudices that recently “culminated in a series of hate crimes” and “racially motivated killings” (363). Beyond the pervasive anti-Roma sentiment, the Roma Holocaust (Porajmos) remains an understudied aspect of the Nazi genocide—which in itself does not make it easier to comprehend that a leading Hungarian politician very recently publicly stated that no members of the Hungarian Roma community were deported from Hungary proper.

Amidst Hungarian controversies over commemorations, awards, and statues—and the general politicization of the Holocaust in Hungary—there has been and, as the present volume clearly indicates, continues to be quality work done on the topic. This reviewer would love to see more made accessible to English-speaking audiences. This outstanding volume will undoubtedly be much welcomed by scholars and students of the Holocaust and of Hungarian history.