Under the code name Raguza, Fidesz's Russia-worshipping "analyst" filed reports

“Ideological-patriotic” – this is given as the reason for recruitment on György Nógrádi's secret police registration card (the so-called “hatos karton”), who then, under the code name “Raguza,” was tasked with protecting the youth, since that was the assignment he received. The year is 1981, June.

It is barely a year after the Fekete Bárányok (Black Sheep) affair, and this is the year the band Beatrice breaks up, thanks to police harassment — the so-called “protection of the youth.” Its frontman, Feró Nagy, will by 2026 be headbanging alongside Nógrádi at any random Fidesz rally. Perhaps nothing could better reflect Hungary's metamorphosis. Or perhaps something could: the first May Day after 1956 – in 1957.

Will Nógrádi — who today unhesitatingly spouts the most hackneyed conspiracy theories, who belongs in the top league when it comes to kowtowing to Russia, a true black-belt traitor to the nation — now go into hiding over his newly revealed secret police card? Will the Christian-conservative right, who regard themselves as the nation's sole representatives, à la Werbőczy, still invite him to give lectures?

After all these years, I don't know how one could find out who Nógrádi harmed and to what extent, but 1981 and the years that followed were a truly dark period for Hungarian rock music. In 1983, for instance, the band CPg was convicted, and although I have no information suggesting that Nógrádi played any role in that, the sad truth is that today we could hardly even conduct an investigation capable of producing evidence that would hold up in court.

This is how they avoided prison. Many, very many of them.

Whether at least some sense of shame accompanies them for the rest of their lives is up to us. The question is whether we will actually do anything about it.

Anna Karczag