In the Trenches: Six lessons of Jewish activism

A few days ago, a moving event took place in New York marking the 40th anniversary of the Soviet Jewry movement. Hosted by the American Jewish Committee, it brought together former refuseniks and prisoners of conscience, elected officials who had pressed the Kremlin, veteran American Jewish activists, and, by design, as many young people as the hall could fit.

Why the focus on young people? Two reasons. First, few, it seems, know much about the history, the players, or the achievements. In fact, the absence of teaching about this period to Jewish youngsters was decried at the event. And second, there are important lessons to be drawn from what turned out to be one of the most successful human rights campaigns in modern history. Those lessons surely have applicability today.

What are they?

Belief matters. The campaign in the Soviet Union was launched by a handful of Jews who believed they had the fundamental right to choose their country of residence, to live in Israel if they so desired, to study the Hebrew language, to learn about their heritage, to pray as they saw fit, and to affirm pride in their identity. Their beliefs animated, nourished, and emboldened them. These Jews believed history was on their side - and international law as well. That they embarked on their efforts in a land single-mindedly determined to sever their ties to their heritage, indeed shame and bully them into submission by the politics of intimidation and demonization, was all the more remarkable.

Courage matters. It wasn't risk-free to affirm those beliefs. To the contrary, the penalty could be high - hard labor, psychiatric prison, internal exile, dismissal from work, denial of an exit visa, family separation, public humiliation. Those who chose the path of demanding their rights and, by doing so, challenging the Kremlin knew a priori that the response would likely be swift and severe. Still, they went ahead. Heroism has become a devalued word in today's lexicon, where it’s thrown around with abandon, but it fits to a tee in this case. Without the willingness of some Soviet Jews to put their lives on the line, would Kremlin officials have been disposed to take them seriously?

Community matters. Those Soviet Jews who embarked on this path were strengthened by the knowledge that they weren't alone. They were part of something much larger than themselves. When possible, they'd seek each other out. The contact was important and reassuring. And beyond that small band of heroes, there were others who helped form a wider community - the lifeline thrown from the outside world. There was, for instance, a steady stream of visitors to the Soviet Union - Jews and non-Jews alike, elected officials and ordinary citizens - who bypassed the Intourist-promoted Potemkin Village of picture-perfect museums, operas, ballets, and circuses to visit the homes of Jews at risk and families of those in prison. They did so at some risk to themselves. Many had smuggled in medicine, clothing, printed material, religious objects, or simply messages from abroad. Their aim was to ensure that no Jew felt alone and that the Kremlin understood that the fate of each Jew determined to leave was a matter of concern outside the country.

Action matters. In the Soviet Union, there were attempted demonstrations, petitions, hunger strikes, public letters, and gatherings at symbolic sites. Not easy to pull off and often short-lived, but, with the cooperation of some sympathetic foreign journalists based in Moscow and a few diplomats, word got out. Despite persistent Soviet efforts, and though this took place in the pre-Internet era, there were few secrets from the world. The desperate actions of Soviet Jews to highlight their plight captured the sympathy of many. In turn, in Western cities, actions were also undertaken to dramatize - and humanize - the Soviet Jewry issue. Bar and Bat Mitzvah twinnings with Soviet Jewish peers unable to have their own religious rite of passage, bracelets with the names of prisoners and refuseniks, prominent signs on the lawns of many synagogues, congressional resolutions, demonstrations, appeals to governments and international bodies, and media activity went on daily. In fact, as one laudable example, directly opposite the Soviet Embassy in Washington, D.C., there was a daily Soviet Jewry vigil at lunchtime, rain or shine, that went on for some 20 years! Try though they might, Soviet diplomats couldn’t escape the issue.

Perseverance matters. Totalitarian states hope that their human-rights adversaries - in this case, Soviet Jewish activists and their supporters abroad - will give up and throw in the towel, if they meet an unmovable wall of resistance. But the opposite happened. The tougher the Soviet response, the more determined were their foes, whose numbers only grew over the years. And if Moscow counted on compassion fatigue setting in among outside supporters, it miscalculated. The ranks of the Soviet Jewry movement in the US and elsewhere increased with time. There was a well-founded understanding of what was at stake in this struggle. And, lo and behold, in this eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation, the Kremlin blinked first. A small band of modern-day Maccabees and their supporters challenged the most powerful despotic nation on earth and, despite the use of horrific tools at the disposal of that state, they prevailed. A nation that had essentially banished the word "emigration" from its vocabulary - contending that in a "worker's paradise" no one could possibly want to leave - was compelled to open the gates.

Hope matters. Did the first Soviet Jews who sought the right to leave for Israel really believe that it would be granted? Could anyone in 1967 have imagined that, within 25 years, not only would hundreds of thousands of Jews leave the USSR for new lives abroad, primarily in Israel, but that the Soviet Union itself would cease to exist? Was it possible then to foresee the resurgence of Jewish life on the soil of what would become the Former Soviet Union? Could Natan Sharansky, who, together with Nelson Mandela, became the world’s most famous political prisoner, and who spent nine years in the Gulag, see himself one day as an Israeli Cabinet member? And could the infusion of one million Soviet Jews to Israel, with all their passion and talent, have been anticipated, much less the boost to Jewish life in the US, Canada, Australia, and Germany from Soviet Jewish immigration? Actually, the answer to these questions is that a few, a very few, believers existed even in the darkest of days. They never abandoned faith, never succumbed to despondency, never gave up strategizing and advocating, and never stopped dreaming that one day the millions of Jews trapped behind the Iron Curtain would be reunited with the Jewish people. Their hope triumphed.

Against all the odds, the Soviet Jewry movement succeeded. In the process, steep mountains were scaled, wide rivers were forded. A Soviet policy of cultural genocide gave way to a post-Soviet era of cultural renaissance. The indomitability of the Jewish spirit was once again revealed.

May this chapter in Jewish history serve as a source of inspiration for young Jews living in a world filled with challenges, where, yes, belief, courage, community, action, perseverance, and hope matter no less today than yesterday.