The Greatest SECRET of the Holocaust REVEALED | Stephen Kapos

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Steven Kapos, a Jewish Holocaust survivor and pro-Palestine activist, shares childhood memories of bombing, hiding, rescue homes in Budapest, and his father’s survival through the Kastner deal. The conversation then turns to Zionism, racism, Israel and Palestine, Gaza through Holocaust memory, European support for the war, and the moral duty to resist mass violence. Links: Interview with Double Down News YouTube: https://youtu.be/HcCgV0dSoAM Interview with Owen Jones: https://youtu.be/E4PFmz4MNdg Neutrality Studies substack: https://pascallottaz.substack.com (Opt in for Academic Section from your profile settings: https://pascallottaz.substack.com/s/academic) Merch: https://neutralitystudies-shop.fourthwall.com Donation: https://neutralitystudies.com/donate Timestamps: 00:00:00 Introduction 00:00:36 Childhood in wartime Budapest 00:03:14 Hungary, Nazis, and deportations 00:17:36 Secret rescue homes 00:32:44 Father and the Kastner deal 00:40:59 Gaza through Holocaust memory 00:43:29

Summary

At the heart of this testimony, Stephen Kapos recounts surviving wartime Budapest—air raids, anti-Jewish legislation, secret “Swiss-protected” rescue homes, and his father’s inclusion on Rudolf Kastner’s negotiated transport—while situating these experiences in broader Hungarian and European politics. Kapos traces Hungary’s wartime alignment to territorial grievances after Trianon, Eichmann’s rapid 1944 deportations, and local complicity, contrasting relative prewar Jewish integration with later violent rupture. He details the Good Shepherds rescue network, Swiss Red Cross involvement, and the psychosocial memory of displacement and frontline urban destruction. Reflecting on postwar developments, Kapos explains his late encounter with Zionism through relatives sold to Israel and describes alarm at observed racial hierarchies there. He links Holocaust memory to contemporary empathy for Gaza—emphasizing shared dimensions of bombing, displacement, and moral duty to resist mass violence—while offering a critical stance toward nationalist responses that reproduce exclusionary or racist practices.

Article

## Introduction A single lived memory can become a lens for understanding both past atrocity and present moral urgency. The conversation with Stephen Kapos pulls that lens into sharp focus: wartime childhood scenes of air-raid shelters and shrapnel collections sit beside the mechanics of rescue, complicity, and survival. From Budapest’s bombed streets to improvised “Swiss-protected” homes, the exchange reframes familiar Holocaust narratives by emphasizing choice—who aided, who turned away, and how those distinctions have shaped a survivor’s ethics toward contemporary violence in Palestine. The result is not only testimony but a sustained interrogation of how historical trauma informs political responsibility today. ## Childhood in wartime Budapest Childhood under bombardment often collapses innocence and danger into a single habitual rhythm. Kapos’s recollections of being wrapped in blankets and hustled down into purpose-built shelters capture that quotidian terror: anti-aircraft guns, the shriek of sirens, and a child’s odd form of play—collecting shrapnel as trophies. These details do more than humanize history; they reveal how children repurpose survival into small rituals that make sense of chaos. The image of a blond-haired boy saluting soldiers, sometimes earning a soldier’s sympathetic comment, underscores how precarious belonging could be—appearance providing fleeting reprieve from a political identity that would soon mark him for extermination. Yet the backdrop was more than air raids. It was also the social topography of prewar Hungary: a society where Jewish professionals, including Kapos’s own father, worked and contributed even as discriminatory laws like the Numerus Clausus signaled an official intolerance. These early memories show how ordinary life and incremental marginalization braided together—so that before direct violence arrived, Jews had already been edged out of full civic participation and security. ## Hungary, Nazis, and deportations The conversation traces Hungary’s trajectory from an uneasy ally to occupied territory. Kapos lays out how geopolitical grievances—chief among them the territorial losses imposed after World War I—created a receptive environment for authoritarian promises of restoration. That context explains how Hungary, though not an organic breeding ground for exterminationist policy, became complicit when Nazi pressure and local collaboration converged in 1944. The rapidity and brutality of the deportations are central to this account. In just a few months, hundreds of thousands from the countryside were sent to Auschwitz, often directly to gas chambers. Kapos’s family history from Transylvania exemplifies the particular perils faced by rural Jewish communities whose tenuous protections vanished with the changing allegiances and the German invasion. The story of his cousin Judy sorting her parents’ clothes in a warehouse at Auschwitz is an emblem of the dehumanizing logistics of genocide—the ordinary act of sorting transformed into a site of unbearable trauma. ## Secret rescue homes Amid such systematic annihilation, acts of improvised protection disrupted the narrative of total helplessness. Kapos describes an emergent archipelago of rescue homes—palatial villas, churches, and converted institutions—declared “Swiss-protected” and run by a loose coalition of Protestant clergy, lawyers, and a Swiss Red Cross envoy. These spaces were not sanctuaries in the formal legal sense but rather zones of moral and bureaucratic subterfuge that relied on forged papers, emblems, and a mix of audacity and local networks. What stands out is the improvisational ingenuity: pastors who used family connections to commandeer empty villas; gardeners entrusted with clandestine passes that somehow convinced German sentries; nurses in improvised uniforms who assumed new identities to shepherd children. Kapos’s own passage past a field gun on the day Admiral Horthy declared an attempt to leave the Axis shows how thin the line was between safety and capture. That so many such homes existed—and that they saved thousands—complicates monolithic narratives of passivity and highlights the contingent power of local nonconformity. ## Father and the Kastner deal 00:40: 59 Gaza through Holocaust memory The conversation turns to family specifics and the knotty moral dilemmas that arise in extremis. Kapos’s father survived via the controversial channels of negotiation and selective rescue—an echo of larger debates surrounding the Kastner negotiations, where a handful of people managed to broker transports at the cost of leaving many behind. These episodes force a painful accounting: survival sometimes hinged on deals involving choice, compromise, or the grim calculus of who could be saved. Kapos brings these memories into the present by insisting that Holocaust memory must not be reduced to a singular moral lesson. Instead, it is a multi-tonal archive: there are heroes and cowards, collaborators and rescuers, legal manipulations and desperate kindnesses. By recalling how his own family navigated those morally fraught waters, the conversation sets the stage for considering how historical memory shapes responses to contemporary mass violence—most pressingly, how the Holocaust informs reactions to Gaza. ## Zionism and racism From memory to politics, the discussion does not shy away from controversy. Kapos confronts the relationship between Zionism and racism with the bluntness of someone who survived exclusionary nationalism. He distinguishes between legitimate historical motivations for Jewish national self-determination and the ways nationalist projects can replicate exclusionary logics, particularly when they devolve into policies that displace or otherwise dehumanize another people. This examination is not an abstract critique; it is rooted in ethical exigency. The conversation emphasizes that invoking the Holocaust to place any action beyond moral scrutiny is a dangerous move. Memory should ground vigilance against mass violence, not immunize policies that inflict collective punishment. In Kapos’s framing, the test of historical fidelity is whether remembrance leads to a universalizing empathy—one that condemns atrocity wherever it occurs—or whether it becomes a rhetorical shield for narrow political ends. ## Diverging lessons after survival One of the most striking themes is how survivors derive different, sometimes opposite, lessons from the same catastrophe. For some survivors, the memory became a call for security at almost any cost; for others, it turned into a commitment to oppose violence and occupation, regardless of perpetrators. Kapos situates himself firmly in the latter camp: survival cultivated not a singular loyalty to national narratives but a moral duty to resist mass violence and stand with the oppressed. This divergence matters politically. It explains why Holocaust memory is invoked in conflicting directions—sometimes to justify hard-line defense policies, other times to insist on humanitarianism and universal human rights. The conversation insists that honoring the dead must be more than ritual; it must inform policy with a principled opposition to dehumanization. For Kapos, the crucial derivative of survival is solidarity rooted in a refusal to let historical suffering be instrumentalized to legitimize new injustices. ## Palestine protests and hope The final chapters of the exchange move from analysis to action, focusing on recent Palestine protests and the prospects for moral and political change. Kapos describes contemporary demonstrations as part of a larger ethical awakening among Europeans and others who are re-evaluating alliances and rethinking neutrality. The protests are, in his view, less about abstract geopolitics and more about reaffirming the duty to resist mass violence wherever it occurs—a stance informed by the memory of what happens when silence becomes complicity. He expresses cauti

Transcript

The Greatest SECRET of the Holocaust REVEALED | Stephen Kapos Steven Kapos, a Jewish Holocaust survivor and pro-Palestine activist, shares childhood memories of bombing, hiding, rescue homes in Budapest, and his father’s survival through the Kastner deal. The conversation then turns to Zionism, racism, Israel and Palestine, Gaza through Holocaust memory, European support for the war, and the moral duty to resist mass violence. Links: Interview with Double Down News YouTube: https://youtu.be/HcCgV0dSoAM Interview with Owen Jones: https://youtu.be/E4PFmz4MNdg Neutrality Studies substack: https://pascallottaz.substack.com (Opt in for Academic Section from your profile settings: https://pascallottaz.substack.com/s/academic) Merch: https://neutralitystudies-shop.fourthwall.com Donation: https://neutralitystudies.com/donate Timestamps: 00:00:00 Introduction 00:00:36 Childhood in wartime Budapest 00:03:14 Hungary, Nazis, and deportations 00:17:36 Secret rescue homes 00:32:44 Father and the Kastner deal 00:40: 59 Gaza through Holocaust memory 00:43:29 Zionism and racism 00:58:35 Diverging lessons after survival 01:05:11 Palestine protests and hope #Pascal Welcome back, everybody, to Neutrality Studies. Today I have the very special privilege of being joined by Stephen Kapos, a Jewish Holocaust survivor and pro-Palestine activist. Stephen, welcome. Welcome. Thank you for having me. Well, thank you very much for speaking to us, because you are really one of a kind, I would say, because you're very outspoken about what is happening currently in Palestine. And you yourself were seven years old when the Nazis invaded your native Hungary. Maybe let's start there. Could you give us your story—where it starts and how you remember the Holocaust? #Stephen Kapos Yeah. But even before the Holocaust reached my hometown, Budapest, the war had, to some extent, impacted us by bombing. We were subject to bombing indiscriminately, not especially connected to being Jewish. It was just Allied bombing regularly. And we lived in a block of flats, which was a fairly modern building in the center of Budapest, and it had a designed, very safe air raid shelter. Buildings that were put up in the early '40s had that requirement. And so I do remember having to go down, and my father had the routine of wrapping the two children—myself, at seven years old, and my sister, who was five years younger, two years old. And on the sounding of the air raid sirens, we would be wrapped in blankets very quickly, rolled into blankets, and taken down into the shelter. And there, I remember hearing the anti-aircraft guns— Bofors guns, they were called. I think made in Sweden, actually. And when the air raid was over and -- 1 of 17 -- the sirens sounded for the end, the kids would go out, myself included, to the streets to collect shrapnel. This was a kind of competitive game, that we would have a collection of shrapnel, and whoever had the largest one was a kind of winner. So I'm illustrating this—how children turn anything, any situation, even war, into games. #Pascal What happened then? I mean, in 1944, with the invasion and the Germans coming, and then the shipping of Jews to the concentration camps. How did you survive? #Stephen Kapos Yeah, well, first of all, what happened? Hungary officially was an ally of Germany. I think although Hungary was right-wing, with a disposition of sympathy and implied alliance with Germany, it wasn't really firmly in the German camp until it was bribed into it, virtually. How? After the First World War, the Treaty of Trianon revised boundaries, particularly of the collapsing Austro-Hungarian Empire. And Hungary then lost two-thirds of its historic territories. All those peripheral areas went to Czechoslovakia, which was then newly created, to Romania—the entire Transylvanian area, which is large, very large, and where my mother's family were farming—went into Romania. And going further south, a part of Hungary went into Serbia, and then another part into Croatia, and even a sliver was taken on the west into Austria. Hungary lost two-thirds of its territories then, and that became a nationalist cause to restore. The Hungarian ruling class, I should say, never settled for this as a final state. And when Hitler was promising and actually returning a portion of these lost territories—about half of each, roughly, broadly speaking—that was the bribe to Hungary to go firmly into the German alliance and join the attack on the Soviet Union. So, officially, Hungary was an ally of Germany. The Hungarian ruler was, since 1920, Admiral Horthy, who ruled as a regent. He couldn't found a dynasty because he wasn't Roman Catholic, which was the state religion. So they gave him the title of regent, but he was a kind of autocratic ruler, settled down to fairly remote hands-on power, but ultimately decisions were referred to him finally. When we come to 1944, which was very much towards the end of the war, and Germany was quite clearly losing the war by 1944—and much earlier, actually, but very definitely by ’44—some countries which were allied to Germany, like Italy and Romania, were seeking out of the alliance, and successfully. Romania had already declared leaving the alliance, and so did, I think, Italy by then. And the Hungarian leadership, Admiral Horthy and his circle, were also seeking terms on which they could leave the alliance, not to be on the losing side at the very end, and sent unofficial envoys from Hungary to inquire about terms from the Allied forces on how it could be done. This was monitored by German intelligence, and so Hungary became an unreliable ally. That is why they invaded Hungary. Still, the status was as an allied country, but not trusted. So they invaded in March 1944. -- 2 of 17 -- #Pascal Hey, very brief intermission because I was recently banned from YouTube. And although I'm back, this can happen anytime again. So please consider subscribing not only here, but to my mailing list on Substack. That's pascallottaz.substack.com. The link is going to be in the description below. And now, back to the video. The thing, though, is that until ’44, the Jewish population of Hungary was relatively safe, weren't they? I mean... #Stephen Kapos Relatively, yes. That's true. Hungary doesn't have a history of pogroms against Jews like Russia—like Imperial Russia, that is—and Poland. There was, and had been for a long time, a latent anti- Semitism. But that was mostly social, and there was no serious impediment for professional work for, say, the Jewish middle class. In fact, Jews did dominate a number of professions. There were many Jews in the medical profession, and journalists and lawyers, among others, and of course industrialists and in commerce generally. So that was all possible. Although Hungary also prided itself—the right, that is—on passing the first anti-Jewish racist legislation, the so-called Numerus Clausus, which limited the number of entries into universities in any particular year. And they prided themselves that this was in the ’20s, before Mussolini. It was the first legislation against Jews. But, for example, my father was a doctor, and during his training, in one year, he didn't pass the Numerus Clausus test. He was surplus to the requirement. And in that year, he had to continue his studies in Prague. There was a German university in Prague, and that's where he went. And he said it was one of the best experiences he had. You know, he loved it in Prague. And the next year he could rejoin because the numbers worked out OK. And so in the end, he qualified in Hungary as a doctor. #Pascal So Hungary wasn't perfect to its Jewish population, but it was far away from what followed next, right, once the Germans actually moved in? Yes, it was completely different. #Stephen Kapos In 1944, when the Germans did invade in March, in came with them Adolf Eichmann, and he immediately set about the deportation of the Jewish population as per the German plan. He did have, in the right wing of Hungary, quite keen supporters—sort of junior ministers, that kind of position under the Regent—whose position wasn’t very actively involved. He was just turning the other way and allowing the cooperation of the right wing with the Nazis to organize the deportation. And they started in the countryside. They came in March. By the summer, more or less June, June– July 1944, they had deported 400,000 Hungarian Jews from the countryside straight to Auschwitz, and a special reception platform was built to receive the Hungarian Jews. -- 3 of 17 -- It was the quickest deportation, and the vast majority of them straight away went into gas chambers. A few people survived for a while because they were put to work. Now, on my mother's side, the family were farming. They had a reasonably sized estate, actually, in Transylvania, in rural Transylvania, not too far from the sort of capital city of Transylvania, which was now called Cluj- Napoca, then in Hungarian was called Kolozsvár. And they were based in a village called Zsombor, which was an hour or less than an hour's drive from Cluj. Now, that part of the family—because about half of Transylvania was reattached to Hungary from Romania. In between the wars, it was part of Romania, but now it was reattached under the Vienna Agreement to Hungary, and immediately the Jews of that part of Transylvania were in much greater danger because the Romanians were far more tolerant and protective even of that Jewish population compared with Hungary. The Romanian king did not allow the deportation of Romanian Jews, for example, whereas Admiral Horthy kind of, as I said, turned the other way, didn’t actively take part, but allowed his minions to cooperate with the Nazis in deportation. And so my entire Romanian Transylvanian family fell into the deportations quite quickly. You never saw them again? With one exception. There was a cousin who was then a teenage girl—actually, she and two sisters—and they were all kind of fairly strong teenagers. And in the selection on arrival to Auschwitz, they were saved and put to work. They worked in one of the warehouses, selecting clothes—clothes that were left behind from the gas chambers, where people were tricked into thinking that they were going into delousing and showers and so on. So they just left all their clothes and shoes at one point with the idea that they would be collecting them later, and of course they never did. And these guys were put to work in these warehouses to sort these items, because Germany wanted to use— it was a hard winter by then—wanted to use the warm items that both the civilian population and the army could make use of. And one day, this cousin—her name was Judy—was sorting her parents' clothes. #Pascal Oh no. #Stephen Kapos Which must have been a tremendous trauma. All three girls survived Auschwitz, but on the way back, they were in a hostel where they stayed temporarily. And there was a fire. It was never finally established whether that was arson—a deliberate fire—because refugees were staying there. But of the three sisters, only one survived. She was at a different level and could jump out, and the others couldn't. So there was one returnee, in answer to your question. From that particular group, there was a returnee from another group, which was based in the south of Hungary and a different branch of the family. -- 4 of 17 -- #Pascal And you yourself, and your parents—how did it happen in Budapest? #Stephen Kapos Well... we had different phases, really. To begin with, for the first few months of the German occupation, if you like, when we had German soldiers around the town who didn't act in a particularly hostile fashion because they were in an allied country, officially. And there was this period when we could... we didn't have particularly heavy sanctions against us yet. And I was, as a young boy, very much into the paraphernalia of war. All my toys were tanks and, you know, model f