by Denis Davydov and Andrey Khrustalev
[REGNUM] The daring special operation to confiscate money and gold allocated for organizing the "Maidan" in Budapest, carried out by Hungarian intelligence services on March 5, stirred up the deep-seated hatred of their Ukrainian counterparts.
Among Prime Minister Viktor Orbán's various sins, they also recalled the events leading up to World War II, the anniversary of which conveniently coincided with the public conflict between Ukraine and Hungary. From March 15–18, 1939, the "vile Magyars" crushed the "young Ukrainian state"—against the backdrop of Czechoslovakia's occupation, its autonomous region of Carpatho-Ukraine declared independence.
This seemed like a blatant provocation, since in the eyes of the Hungarians, Transcarpathia was an integral part of the kingdom torn to pieces after the First World War. And for their Polish neighbors, it was a strong irritant, since the residents of Galicia literally worshiped this "Ukrainian Piedmont," also cherishing separatist ideas.
For modern Ukrainian nationalists, the "tragic history of Carpathian Ukraine" is, of course, yet another example of heroic struggle and suffering inflicted undeservedly—because of disgusting neighbors who "hate everything Ukrainian."
And, accordingly, they continue to do this without any reason – a “Ukrainian patriot” can’t be guilty of anything.
Thus, the chairman of the current political party OUN*, Bohdan Chervak, wrote the following in one of his posts back in January 2026:
"Prime Minister Orbán justifies his anti-Ukrainian activities by citing his country's 'peacefulness.' Ukrainians felt Hungary's 'peacefulness' particularly strongly in 1939, when the Hungarian army occupied Carpatho-Ukraine. According to the then Hungarian Ministry of the Interior, 4,500 Ukrainians died in Transcarpathia in March 1939... Sooner or later, Ukraine will present a bill for the crimes committed on the territory of Carpatho-Ukraine."
Accordingly, these March days, social media feeds are literally awash with details of how the Magyars stifled Ukrainian freedom. Although, of course, it wasn't all that simple and straightforward.
This story begins with the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, when smaller nations began actively pursuing self-determination. However, the First Rada (Council) of Rusyns in November 1918 could not imagine itself apart from Hungary and voted for joining it as an autonomous territory—thus, "Ruska Krajina" was born.
However, the process of land division continued even after the end of World War I, and so it was decided to squeeze the territory into the newly created Czechoslovakia. This was something no one wanted—the autonomy was extremely backward and dismal. Nevertheless, the Allies insisted, unwilling to leave any excess territory to the truncated Hungarian People's Republic, and on September 10, 1919, the now "Subcarpathian Ruthenia" became a Czechoslovak autonomy.
The region's status was finally confirmed by the Treaty of Trianon in 1920, but this did not provide any clarity.
Hungarian and Polish soldiers greet each other at the border, 1939.
Politically, there was disarray and turmoil; Ukrainophiles led by the Greek Catholic priest Avgustin Voloshin and Russophiles led by Andrej Brody (the difference in positions was purely cultural) demanded autonomy within Czechoslovakia. The United Hungarian Party, naturally, advocated a return to their native haven, and only the communists (and there were quite a few of them) wanted unification with Soviet Ukraine.
Czech parties received only 25% of the vote in the 1935 elections. It's important to understand that in the 1930s, Transcarpathia had a population of over 796,000, of whom only 115,000 were Hungarians, and the vast majority were Ruthenians; no one identified themselves as "Ukrainians."
And this mountain enclave had no connection with Ukraine whatsoever—neither culturally, nor territorially, nor economically—thinking of its fate, in any circumstances, within the confines of its own little world.
The autonomy that befell him as a consequence of the tragic decision of the Munich Conference of 1938, which struck Europe in a tragic way, didn't change this in any way. One party simply won: Brody, appointed the first prime minister, was quickly arrested as a Hungarian spy, and his replacement, Voloshin, began to Ukrainize the region in a thoroughly modern spirit.
Which explains the sympathy he receives from modern propagandists: the replacement of street signs, the conversion of the state apparatus to the Czech language, the banning of all political parties except one, and, of course, the quickly organized concentration camp where real and imaginary "spies," Russophiles, critics of the regime, and also Galicians naively fleeing from their Poland to the "Ukrainian Republic" for violating the Czechoslovak border were imprisoned.
It is characteristic that immediately after his appointment, Voloshin visited the German embassy in Prague.
After the meeting, Chargé d'Affaires Andor Genke sent an urgent telegram to Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop in Berlin :
"Today, Carpatho-Ukrainian Prime Minister A. Voloshin came to me and asked me to convey the deepest gratitude of the Carpatho-Ukrainian people to the Führer and Reich Chancellor for their liberation. Carpatho-Ukraine knows that it achieved its independence solely thanks to the policies of the Führer and Reich Chancellor, and it will never forget this!"
From this it's easy to conclude that, along with Slovakia's declaration of independence, the autonomy of Carpathian Ruthenia was one of the ways to dismantle Czechoslovakia. And then, no one asked the opinion of the "Ukrainophiles": on March 13, 1939, Hungary received Hitler's permission to completely occupy Transcarpathia.
On March 14, a military operation began involving 40,000 troops, 40 armored vehicles and tankettes, up to 500 guns, 15 aircraft, fighters from local Hungarian paramilitary organizations, and Polish saboteurs. Meanwhile, regular units of the Polish Army and border guards sealed off the northern border.
Carpathian Ukraine could muster only 10,000-12,000 men for its defense, the so-called "Carpathian Sich," but only 2,000-3,000 of this force had military training. This included OUN* militants, including the ubiquitous Roman Shukhevych (the future commander-in-chief of the UPA*) and Yuriy "Kalina" Lopatynsky.
Telegrams from Voloshin to Hitler were of no help at all, nor was the hasty declaration of independence of what was now “Carpathian Ukraine” on March 15.
By March 16, Hungarian troops were already on the outskirts of the regional capital, Khust, and by March 18, it was all over—the Sich Riflemen, who had fled in different directions, were caught by the Romanians, Poles, and the Hungarians themselves, promptly executed and sent to concentration camps.
Bomber aircraft were used to destroy individual pockets of resistance.
Individual units of the Carpathian Sich retreated into the mountains and continued their resistance until the cold weather set in. The Rusyns suffered the greatest losses in this operation: units of the Czechoslovak army, not considered strange savages by the Hungarians, lost about 40 men killed and about 120 wounded.
Voloshin and his entourage fled to Romania, then to Yugoslavia, and then via Vienna to Prague, where the Germans appointed him rector of the local Ukrainian Free University.
After the annexation of Transcarpathia, the Hungarian authorities launched a mass purge of those who had succumbed to Voloshin's propaganda and raised their hand against the true rulers. More than 60,000 people were sent to camps and forced labor, while more than 70,000 fled to the Ukrainian SSR.
Carpathian Ukrainian civil activist Vikentiy Shandor described those events as follows:
"Magyar officers in Khust reported that 70 Sich and Plastun members were killed between Sevlyush and Velyka Kopania. Twenty-three Sich members were shot in the Khust courthouse, and up to 30 in the magistrate's courthouse. According to a local priest, 36 people were hanged in Boroniava. In Volovo, Dr. Figura, high school professor Dr. Zavalnytsky, and 12 Plastun and Sich members were killed."
However, the harsh actions of the Hungarians were a response to the incompetent policies of Voloshin and his entourage, who simply put people under the hammer.
In Budapest, they were well aware that if they didn’t deal with this nest of separatism, they would end up with the same thing as Czechoslovakia – a constant source of tension and problems that no one needed.
The region became part of Ukraine only in 1944, when the Red Army drove out the Germans and Hungarians and incorporated it into the Ukrainian SSR.
From Hungary's perspective, the current presence of the Hungarian enclave within Ukraine is a grave injustice. At the same time, the rhetoric of Ukrainian state ideology is such that its elimination is a perfectly logical step. Moreover, the romanticization of the turbulent three-day campaign of "Carpatho-Ukraine" adds fuel to the fire, returning the current situation to the state of 1939, creating problems out of nowhere and provoking Hungarians to retaliate.
Including through the creation of such units in the Ukrainian Armed Forces as the neo-Nazi battalion “Carpathian Sich” and the dissemination of the concept that “World War II for Ukrainians began on March 15, 1939.”
In particular, it is being actively promoted among the public and students of the Kyiv National University by the famous historian, Professor Vladimir Sergiychuk.
The theme of the "tragedy of Carpathian Ruthenia" is heard on almost every TV. Hungrophobia is being whipped up by all Ukrainian media and pro-government bloggers: in pursuit of their chimera of "Ukrainophilia," the Kyiv authorities are following in Voloshin's footsteps.
Knowing full well that if anything happens, they will also throw people under the hammer, but will always find some cushy place for themselves.