Posted on 08/14/2003 7:50:07 PM PDT by stevejackson
| Lithuanians, Jews, Nazis, the Holocaust, and Collective Guilt By Andrew L. Jaffee, August 14, 2003 |
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
- Jesus of Nazareth, from the Gospel of John
"All Jews are communists." "All Lithuanians are Nazis." Have you heard these things said before? I have. A recent visit to the State Jewish Museum in Vilnius, Lithuania spurred me to think very carefully about collective guilt and the Holocaust.
Being an American of both Lithuanian and Jewish ancestry has sometimes put me in an awkward position. First, I'm born and raised American--you know, apple pie, Chevrolet, baseball, etc. The U.S. is my home and home of choice, and I'm grateful to live here. I've also been blessed with having strong ties to Israel through my father and to Lithuania through my mother. I've made numerous trips to both Israel and Lithuania, and have built many lasting bonds with people in both countries. So why do I find myself "in an awkward position" sometimes? Please join me as I try to figure things out.
I have at times encountered virulent anti-Lithuanian sentiments, mostly from leftists and certain Jews. "They're all Nazis!" "They're a bunch of nationalists!" "They were all collaborators with the Nazis!" There is a long history of anti-Semitism in Eastern Europe. There was the Holocaust, done with the help of non-German collaborators. There still is anti-Semitism in Eastern Europe. But I will not get involved in assigning collective guilt. My own experiences prove that collective guilt is just racism--like muttering some platitude that, "All Arabs are terrorists."
I believe most leftist anti-Lithuanian feelings are rooted in a desire to cover up communist atrocities. By continually harping on Nazi crimes of the same era, they hope to distract attention from, for example, the brutal Russian communist occupation of countries like Lithuania, the Ukraine, Estonia, Poland, and Armenia. Communism promised utopia and, as Lenin said, "The means justify the end." The occupied countries of the Eastern Bloc, and their expatriate supporters, were a big irritant to the utopian communists. "It would work out if not for those nationalists!" The communists' own "opium of the people" was socialist dogma and wishful thinking. The socialists didn't want to admit that maybe Lithuanians et. al. just wanted self-determination.
I've encountered very little Lithuanian anti-Semitism in person, but experienced it more through reading and hearing about it. For example, I once had a talk with a Lithuanian who tried to apologize for some of her people's collusion with the Nazis. She said something to the effect that, "Many Jews were in the communist party and helped the Russians to conquer and exterminate Lithuanians." I politely told her that nothing justified the Holocaust, fully cognizant of the fact that there were some Jews in collusion with the Russians. I pointed out that some Jews joined with the communists as a matter of survival. And how did the Soviets repay the Jews for helping them fight the Nazis? They didn't. The Soviets spent lots of time and energy persecuting Jews.
I can understand Jews and other peoples wanting the world to remember what the Nazis and their collaborators did (me being a Jew). Never forget. Never again. But I fail to see why one tragedy gets ignored while another is constantly harped on. Just look at the mass media. If you watch The History Channel, you're guaranteed to see lots of specials about Hitler and the Nazis, but rarely can you watch anything critical of communism's evils. Why? Was Hitler more evil than Stalin? Or was Stalin more evil than Hitler?
My Lithuanian cousin married a Jewish woman from the Ukraine back in the 1970's. They had a son together. My cousin was killed by the KGB. His crime was daring to be involved in Lithuanian politics. His wife and son were always welcome in the family. But after his death, the family drew closer. His son was raised by the whole extended family. My mother married a Jew. Her best friend (who now
lives in Brooklyn) was Jewish, and they went through grade school and high school together in Lithuania. I'm very close to my Lithuanian relatives, even though they're "not Jewish" (whatever that means). As I said, I haven't experienced much anti-Semitism in Lithuania.
I spent three weeks in Lithuania this summer, and wrote about my trip extensively here at netWMD. Besides visiting family and having a good time, one thing I wanted to do was ascertain for myself what really happened in Lithuania during the Holocaust. My uncle advised me to visit the Lithuanian State Holocaust Museum, which was closed by the Soviets in 1949, but opened again in 1989 as the Soviet empire was disintegrating (see picture right).
So the whole family piled in the mini-van and we made a day-trip to the Holocaust Museum. My cousin's two sons, 14 and 17, said they didn't really want to go, but he insisted they did. What I saw at the museum that day shook me to the bone. My Lithuanian family later helped me sort through my anger, frustration, confusion, and sadness.
Jews had a long and glorious history in Lithuania, before the Holocaust:
Jews trace their origins in Lithuania back to the days of Grand Duke Gedeyminus, who founded the first Lithuanian state in the 14th century. By the late 15th century, there were already thriving communities. In time, Vilnius became known as the "Jerusalem of Lithuania," a great center of Jewish religious learning.
The Jews of Lithuania lived an intense Jewish life, and their role and influence in the major Jewish political and cultural movements were far greater than their numbers would have suggested.
At the height of Jewish culture in Lithuania, there were as many as 250 prayer houses in Vilnius alone.[1] Lithuanian yeshivas were known throughout the world. Lithuanian Jewry produced great Talmudic experts and rabbis like Abraham ben Jechiel Michel Danzig, Mordechai Plungian, Isaac Elehanan (Spektor), and the Vilnius Gaon Eliyahu.[1] Lithuania was an important hub for Zionism, hosting the Second Congress of the Hovevei Tsion Organization in 1887.[1] Finally--how could I forget him--Lithuanian Jewry gave us Jasha Heifetz, one of the greatest violinists of all time.
But the Nazis and their Lithuanian collaborators destroyed almost all this Jewish culture during World War II. According to the World Jewish Congress (WJC):
During the German occupation, about 95% of Lithuanian Jewry was killed (a greater percentage than in any other community in Europe), in large measure due to the enthusiastic participation of ethnic Lithuanians.
143,000 Jews--85.1% of Lithuanian Jews--were exterminated during the Holocaust. 70,000 Jews were massacred in the small town of Paneriai. There are at least 200 sites in Lithuania that have been identified as places where Jews were exterminated.[1] There are only about 6,000 Jews left in Lithuania today.
I won't paint Lithuanians with as broad a brush-stroke as the WJC (e.g., "...the enthusiastic participation of ethnic Lithuanians"). That sounds a lot like, "All Lithuanians were Nazi collaborators." There were "righteous Lithuanians" who helped Jews escape extermination. According to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, there is an ongoing debate as to how many "righteous Lithuanians" there were:
After 13 years of extensive research, the State Jewish Museum last week released "Saving the Jews in Lithuania from 1941-1944." The book by Viktorija Sakaite lists the names of 2,570 non-Jewish Lithuanians who risked their lives to protect Jews during the Nazi occupation of the Baltic nation.
When the State Jewish Museum was re-established in 1989, it immediately appointed a special committee to research the number of Lithuanian rescuers and gather their daring stories.
But Lithuanian nationalists insist the actual number of Lithuanian rescuers is closer to 14,000.
The issue is especially sensitive in Lithuania, which is widely believed to have had the highest rate of collaboration with the Nazis among overrun states. During World War II, the Nazis and their Lithuanian collaborators murdered 94 percent of the country´s 250,000 Jews.
But don´t cite such statistics to Ruta Gajuauskaite, a former member of Parliament and founder of the small Green Party in Lithuania.
She points to "The List of Gurevicius," a 1999 book written by Lithuanian-Canadian journalist Antanas Gurevicius. Researched over several decades, the book cites more than 10,000 Lithuanian rescuers, also known as "righteous Lithuanians."
I'm left with mixed feelings about the Holocaust in Lithuania. On the one hand, I can't dispute how well I've been treated during my visits there. On the other hand, I can't deny the historical fact that the Nazis and their Lithuanian collaborators killed between 85.1% and 94% of all Jews in the country. What was up? As one Holocaust survivor put it:
The Lithuanians offered their assistance enthusiastically. This cooperation was so unthinkable that both Jews who were there and those who heard about it later were stunned. How could it have happened? we asked ourselves repeatedly. How could we have been so deceived? How could our neighbors, with whom we had lived side by side for hundreds of years, sink to such degrading betrayal? To this day I cannot fathom it. I cannot comprehend how the Lithuanian non-Jews living in Jewish cities and towns such as Kovno and Slobodka could have become the murderers and accomplices to the murder of their Jewish neighbors. Although the Lithuanians clearly hated the Russians and were thrilled to be liberated from the Russian occupation by the Germans, their slaughter of the Jews was incomprehensible.
Let's look at some Lithuanian explanations for what happened. According to Saulius Suziedelis, writing in Lituanus:
Few historical periods are as vexing to Lithuanians as the summer and fall of 1941, for these are the months which witnessed unprecedented cataclysms for the nation: the mass Soviet deportations of the "June days"; the Nazi invasion and anti-Soviet revolt which followed; above all, the Holocaust. Nothing in the national past could have prepared the Lithuanian people for these disasters, especially the extent of the violence, which had no historic parallels either in the quantitative or qualitative sense. October 28, 1941 stands out as a brutal record. On that day sixty years ago, nearly 10,000 Lithuanian Jews were slaughtered at the Fort IX in Kaunas by the Nazis and their local collaborators. Never had so many been killed on Lithuanian soil in so short a time. It is small wonder, then, that the painful record of 1941 continues to confront, embarrass and annoy Lithuanian society.
The politics of commemorating the events of that year are complicated by psychological and political factors. Many Lithuanians and Jews remember this tragic history, especially the first weeks of the Nazi-Soviet war, from perspectives so opposed that sometimes it appears they cannot possibly be reflecting on the same events. At times, political and community leaders have muddied the waters by getting into the act and asserting simplified versions of the past intended to appeal to their respective constituencies rather than to explain the more complex historical processes. Much of the older generation, which can still recall the events, remains frozen in a kind of Fortress Memory, reacting violently to any perceived threat to its cherished tunnel-vision of the past. With good reason, both Jews and Lithuanians consider themselves victims of the Second World War. There is no need to question that status.
But the emphasis on martyrology and victimhood has, over the years, helped construct a rigid pattern of collective memories impervious to any revision based on new research. Two examples will suffice. In a recent review of Tivador Soros' memoirs, the noted Hungarian scholar Istvan Deak pointed out that "there were a great many sympathetic bystanders outside of Denmark," and criticized the purveyors of a simplified view "who hold that during the Holocaust there were only perpetrators, callous bystanders, victims and a mere handful of saviors." The Lithuanian Jewish museum has recently published extensive lists of Lithuanian rescuers, who are now estimated in the several thousands, provoking some grumbling that Lithuanians are trying to "pad" the numbers of good Gentiles. In a nation of three million this is considerably more than a handful. For their part, Lithuanians have frequently claimed that there were only a small gaggle of native perpetrators during the Holocaust, dregs of society, and that much of the killing was carried out by Germans in Lithuanian uniforms. The later is a myth for which there is no solid evidence of any kind. Worse yet, too many still attempt to justify the genocide as retaliation for the alleged "crimes of the Jews"...
In February 1995, Lithuanian President Algirdas Brazauskas made his historic visit to Israel and delivered his famous statement to the Knesset: "As President of Lithuania, I bow my head in memory of the more than 200,000 murdered Lithuanian Jews.... I ask for forgiveness... The Jewish Catastrophe was Lithuania's tragedy as well. It is not enough to apologizewe must constantly be aware of what actually happened. That is our only path to a civilized European world... Let us not forget the past as we direct our gaze toward the future."...
The only way for Lithuanians to lighten the load of the difficult history of 1941 is to embrace it. However artfully presented, the strategies of denial and evasion, the finger-pointing and righteous indignation directed at the Other, serve only to further weigh society down. To admit that the country's moral and political leadership failed in 1941, and that thousands of Lithuanians participated in the Holocaust, is one of the preconditions for Lithuania's acceptance as a member of the trans-Atlantic community of nations. Recognizing a historic burden is not the same as accepting collective guilt. No honest person argues that Lithuanians are a nation of criminals, or that today's Lithuanians are responsible for what happened in 1941 (anymore than contemporary Americans are responsible for slavery). But the legacies of such crimes, the historical burdens, remain. As a general proposition, attempts to evade, deny, minimize or misrepresent historical offenses are unsuccessful in the long run.13 On the sixtieth anniversary of the Holocaust in Lithuania, on September 20, 2001, the Seimas held a solemn session during which Alfonsas Eidintas, the historian nominated as the Republic's next ambassador to Israel delivered an eloquent address. His speech may well be the most direct and honest public accounting of the annihilation of Lithuania's Jews. The most awful and relevant aspect of this sad history, he concluded, was that "some Lithuanian citizens assisted in the murder of other Lithuanian citizens." To acknowledge this is to accept the burden of 1941.
According to Solomonas Atamukas, also writing in Lituanus:
The major reason for the growing anti-Semitism was economic and professional competition. By the mid-thirties, fifty percent of the Lithuanian population was already in towns and aspired to jobs the economy was too weak to support. Lithuania was also hard hit by the worldwide economic crisis. Lithuania's new educated middle class inevitably came into professional conflict with its Jewish rivals. The traditional Jewish role in business and the professions became a cause for envy and resentment. The Lithuanian student corps even called for a quota system for university admissions. University presidents Stasys alkauskis and Mykolas Romeris denounced anti-Semitic manifestations among the student body.
An even more ardent and vocal rival was the Lithuanian business class. Although government-subsidized Lithuanian cooperatives barred Jewish expansion, the Lithuanian Businessmen's Association demanded even more government restrictions for its Jewish competition. Openly anti-Semitic was its periodical Verslas (Trade), urging outright boycotts of Jewish businesses. The extreme fascist fringe, the "Iron Wolves", resented Jewish shop signs and imitated examples in Nazi Germany of anti-Jewish rhetoric and occasional acts of vandalism against Jewish business establishments, smashing windows and smearing Yiddish signs with anti-Jewish slogans. In view of these developments, about 20,000 Jews took advantage of opportunities to emigrate and left Lithuania, albeit taking with them their capital, investments, foreign contacts and expertise. Young Jews turned to the Communist Party, which proclaimed internationalism and ethnic equality. This added to the perception of Jewish allegiance to Communism. Stasys Yla, a Catholic priest, under the pseudonym Daulius, bluntly stated that Jews "wanted to rule the world" and could achieve it best through Communism" (J. Daulius, Komunizmas Lietuvoj, Kaunas: 1937,198-206)...
For most Lithuanians, the German invasion meant liberation from the hated Soviet regime and the hope of independence. For all Jews it meant Nazi persecution and Polish-style ghettoization. The only escape was to follow the retreating Red Army into the interior of the Soviet Union. Only about 8,000 to 10,000 young people without families succeeded in doing so. The community at large was not prepared for war and had no place to go anyway. Inflammatory anti-Semitic propaganda was continued in the LAF newspaper I laisve (To Freedom), creating anti-Semitic mass hysteria. As happened so often in Jewish history, the Jewish civilian population became a helpless target for a dangerous explosion of hate, revenge, ideology, patriotism, power, and greed...
It is now generally agreed that the mass executions were organized and supervised by the Nazi leadership, but placing the blame on Germans cannot exonerate participating Lithuanians. It appears that the hard-core shooting was accomplished by a relatively small number of men estimated to be at several thousand (the exact number will be established by the new International Commission for Research on Nazi and Soviet Genocide). But the entire process required the willing participation and cooperation of thousands of local authorities and police in various capacities. The role and participation of these "ordinary men" became an issue in many countries after the publication of Charles Browning's book Ordinary Men. Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland (New York: 1992). The issue of collaboration, says historian Saulius Suiedelis, will be one of the "heaviest and most difficult issues in Lithuanian history that still lie ahead." ("Kas iude Lietuvos ydus?" . Akiraciai 1998/4 <298>, 4-5; see also his "Thoughts on Lithuania's Shadows of the Past: a Historical Essay on the Legacy of War. Part II." Vilnius. Magazine of the Lithuanian Writers' Union. Summer 1999: 177-208). It will be even more difficult because many participants are still alive.
Do these explanations clear everything up? Will they heal all the old wounds? I certainly don't have all the answers. When I've talked to both Lithuanian and Jewish Holocaust survivors in my family, the first thing I've heard is, "It was horrible. So horrible that I can't really describe it." Yet despite their experiences, none of these survivors would assign collective guilt. "There are good people and bad people everywhere," is what my uncle told me.
Anti-Semitism is still rearing its ugly head in Lithuania (see "Lithuanian Soccer Fans Yell 'Juden Raus!' at Israeli Team" and "Lithuanian Newspaper: Extremist Nationalists Growing in Popularity in Kaunas"). I could just as easily compile a list of anti-Semitic events for France, Germany, and even the U.S. But I believe the positives outweigh the negatives.
Lithuanian Members of Parliament (MP's) and the Lithuanian State Security Department are trying to bring charges against another MP known for anti-Semitic remarks. Vilnius University has established the Vilnius Yiddish Institute, "the first Yiddish center of higher learning to be established in post-Holocaust Eastern Europe." And these are just a few of the positives. In the words of Lituanus' Solomonas Atamukas:
Linas Vildiunas, editor of Septynios Meno Dienos, founded the House of Memory. At the Vytautas Magnus University in Kaunas, the "Sugihara Center" sponsors research and cultural activities. The young filmmaker Saulius Berinis has released a new documentary Sunset in Lithuania, based on many hours of interviews with eye witnesses and survivors. Educators and journalists are getting involved in projects raising awareness and fostering tolerance. For young people, preparations are underway for a nationwide program of Holocaust education in schools.
A wide variety of publications on the Holocaust, both original and in translation, have become available, many of them sponsored by the Open Society Foundation. Books by survivors are being translated into Lithuanian. Author Markas Zingeris compiled selections from Yiddish literature and published an anthology (iaures geles Vilnius: 1997). Theater director Rimvydas Tuminas won numerous international awards for his stage adaptation of novels by Gregorijus Kanovicius "Nusiypsok mums, Viepatie" (Smile at us, Lord). Cultural and musical events and concerts by Jewish performers have attracted large audiences. Poet Sigitas Geda put together an anthology of selected poems on the Holocaust by Lithuanian poets. The best Lithuanian poets writing at that time responded to the Jewish tragedy as soon as censorship relented, at about the same time as the Russian poet Evgenyi Evtushenko published his famous poem "Baby Yar". Among them were Justinas Marcinkevicius, Vytautas Bloe, Janina Degutyte, Judita Vaiciunaite, Violeta Palcinskaite, Alfonsas Bukontas. The anthology also includes poetry by emigre poets. (Mirtis, recitatyvas ir melynas drugelis. Lietuviu poetai apie Holokausta. . Vilnius: 2000).
At the University of Vilnius the Center for Stateless Cultures has been established under the direction of Dovid Katz. Professor Katz himself is involved in collecting and analyzing remnants of Yiddish language and culture in Lithuania and Belarus and teaching Yiddish and Judaic Studies at the University of Vilnius. As a result, there is an upsurge of interest among the younger generation to learn about the lost Litvak culture. In this context, it is well to remember that we are talking here merely about resurrecting and preserving a heritage of the past, remnants of a once great culture. In the words of Vytautas Landsbergis, neglecting preservation of the Yiddish heritage would be tantamount to a "second, spiritual holocaust" ("Galime ir turime neleisti" Lietuvos Jeruzale. 1995/3-54). Yiddish is now taught at universities as a dead language.
A remarkable event this summer was the first Litvak Conference on August 24-30, 2001, organized by the concerted efforts of the Jewish Community in commemoration of this anniversary. It was attended by about 300 people with Litvak rootslitvakesfrom all around the world and offered a rich historical and a cultural program. The opening took place at the Vilnius City Hall and was attended by high government officials, foreign ambassadors, politicians and several hundred Lithuanian and foreign intellectuals and academics. The opening address was delivered by President Adamkus. Other distinguished speakers were Prime Minister Algirdas Brazauskas, Seimas Speaker Arturas Paulauskas and the newly appointed Ambassador to Israel Alfonsas Eidintas.
All these are welcome new trends indicative of a new spirit on all sides to come together and establish a mutually productive dialog. Among the stereotypes and prejudices that have plagued Lithuanian-Jewish relations is also that of "collective guilt" perpetuated by extremists on both sides. Ilja Lempertas made the point last year that no public: official in Israel has accused the entire Lithuanian nation or demanded any apologies. This is also the position of the Jewish Community in Lithuania, as repeatedly stated by its president Simonas Alperavicius.
All I know is that I love my Lithuanian and Jewish families dearly. I won't become a bigot. I will remember that past always, but look to a brighter future. And the future does hold promise.
[1] Dr. Simon Alperovitch and Dr. Isroel Lempert, "Jewish Community of Lithuania," 2nd ed., The American Joint Distribution Committee, Vilnius, 2001.
How many whole races have we Americanski wiped off the face of the earth, or at least tried to? Or is that not also a fair comparison?
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