OPINION | ANTISEMITISM | HOLOCAUST REVISIONISM | LITHUANIAN JEWISH LIFE
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by Arkady Kurliandchik
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Reflecting on the current situation in Lithuania, where open antisemites do not hesitate to reveal themselves as such, I am trying to understand the origins of such behavior.
According to some historians, approximately 20,000 people in Lithuania actively participated in the extermination of Jews during World War II. And those who did not personally engage in the killings but considered such extermination to be just and commendable numbered in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions.
Antisemitic propaganda did not originate in Germany, but before the war, it became particularly sophisticated there. Jews were portrayed as insects that needed to be exterminated. And then this initiative was adopted and further developed in Lithuania.
Viewpoint of a Jewish citizen in today’s Vilnius
It is unsurprising that the idea of expelling Jews from Lithuania, for example, later transformed into the idea of their extermination. Some Lithuanian mass media outlets claim that the extermination of Jews in Lithuania was simply the implementation of German policies during the occupation of Lithuania.
This is not true: by the end of 1941, about 80% of Lithuania’s Jewish population had already been exterminated. And yet, the final decision on the detailed program of mass extermination was made on January 20, 1942, at the Wannsee Conference.
In other words, by the time the extermination policy was officially declared, Lithuania could already report its practical completion. And, in my profound conviction, the “Final Solution to the Jewish Question” was facilitated by Lithuania’s “successful” experience.
Prominent Lithuanian national heroes, among them Škirpa, Noreika, Krikštaponis, and others, laid the groundwork for the “Final Solution.” It is not surprising that the ideas about the harmfulness of Jews, instilled during those years, did not disappear. Especially since antisemitism was also promoted by the Catholic Church.
After the war, those who exterminated Jews were largely classified as Nazi collaborators, and some of those who failed to escape were prosecuted. But that was the extent of efforts to crack down on the murderers of Jews.
In Lithuania, as in the rest of the Soviet Union, no one made any effort to eradicate antisemitism. Thus, in Lithuania it did not disappear but was merely pushed into the corners of the subconscious. After the declaration of independence, it became inconvenient to openly demonstrate such views.
The children and grandchildren of those who lived in Lithuania during the war are still influenced by the legacy of their ancestors’ Judeophobia. For some, it has even become their conviction.
Today, antisemitism has transformed, taking the form of anti-Israel agitation or support for Palestinian terrorism, without any serious effort to confront the locally traditional variant of the age-old virus.
Alas, in Lithuania, the idea of repentance and condemnation of the actions of one’s fathers and grandfathers has not found widespread resonance. On the contrary, those who openly condemned their ancestors as criminals drew pervasive public outrage. Everyone remembers the examples of Rūta Vanagaitė and Silvia Foti, who faced severe ostracism in Lithuania.
But there are other cases: for instance, the well-known collaborator Vytautas Landsbergis-Žemkalnis, who served as the Minister of Municipal Affairs in Lithuania’s Provisional Government, has never been condemned. Neither his prominent son Vytautas nor his grandson Gabrielius have ever assessed Žemkalnis’s activities as a collaborator.
I understand that both of them may have had a close bond with this man, and I do not call for them to renounce him. But as prominent public figures, they should have provided an assessment of his collaborationist activities. This would have been an inspirational signal to the entire Lithuanian society to cleanse itself of the dark spots that mar Lithuania’s twentieth century history. But nothing of the sort has happened.
The first organized force that began exterminating Jews in Lithuania was the Lithuanian Activist Front (LAF). This shameful page of Lithuanian history, when the LAF assisted the German occupation, should have led to these people being branded as notorious collaborators and traitors.
Instead, every year there are celebrations of the so-called “uprising” of the LAF, which murdered thousands of Jews. The ideological patron of this “festivity” and the organization itself for many years has been the “great friend of the Jews,” Vytautas Landsbergis, who sheds crocodile tears over the destruction of his Jewish compatriots at every convenient and inconvenient opportunity.
Lithuanian society has drawn no conclusions from its sad twentieth century record. Recent events demonstrate a refusal to see the true history, preferring instead a heavily distorted and embellished version.
Lithuania has famously experienced two occupations in the twentieth century: Soviet and German. After the declaration of independence in 1991, and especially recently, overall perception has emerged that the Soviet occupation was “bad” while the German occupation was “good.” This distinction is clearly demonstrated through monuments: statues of Soviet-era figures, even those in no way connected with repression, are dismantled, while plaques commemorating Nazi criminals responsible for mass extermination of the Lithuanian population are put up, and streets and schools are named after them.
It is not surprising that the ideas of antisemitism have found a wide response among Lithuanian voters. And Žemaitaitis simply became the mouthpiece of what many Lithuanians harbor in their hearts.
Nevertheless, the mass protest in Vilnius against including the antisemitic “Nemunas Dawn” (“Nemuno Aušra”) party in the ruling coalition gives hope that Lithuania will not again fall into the dark abyss and repeat past mistakes.
I attended this protest and saw many open and intelligent faces. And this gives me hope!
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Editor’s note: Last August, Arkady Kurliandchik was the sole protester at a far-right rally held right in the Old Vilna Jewish Cemetery that was protesting efforts to preserve the site as a Jewish cemetery. His lone presence was duly recorded in the far-right newspaper Respublika. A consistent advocate for safeguarding endangered Jewish cemeteries across Lithuania, he has emerged as a champion of the Old Vilna Jewish Cemetery, at a time when so many foreign Jewish dignitaries, including rabbis, have been easily manipulated by lofty commissions, junkets and photo-ops to betray the dignity of the tens of thousands of Vilna Jewish residents buried there. He has also been a central figure in the struggle to restore Jewish community democracy after the restitution-fueled takeover that has excluded the Jewish community from the official Jewish Community. Here too, Arkady speaks out where few others dare, in the grans spirit of Lithuanian Jewry of the ages. See the Arkady Kurliandchik section in Defending History for more of his writing.