The World: The Harsh Plight of the Soviet Jews

(3 of 3)

Jews type Hebrew songs, poems and folklore and pass them on to friends. One of the most popular sources is Leon Uris' Exodus, which is read not for its love story or heroics but rather for its passages on Jewish history. As a sign of solidarity, youngsters began showing up outside synagogues during Hebrew holy days to sing and do Jewish folk dances. Ominously, KGB (secret police) agents also showed up, taking pictures and trailing some of the participants to their homes.

Perils of Exodus. Like other Soviet citizens, Jews are forbidden to emigrate freely. Even applying for an exit visa is regarded as gross ingratitude, if not downright disloyalty, to the Soviet Union. Nonetheless, some 40,000 Jews during the past three years have dared to risk official wrath by filing applications to leave for Israel. Only a bare trickle of about 2,000 a year have been allowed to leave. Almost all of those who have applied for visas have lost their jobs and been subjected to intimidation and insults by police and neighbors.

Mrs. Esther Aisenstadt, who had taught English for 23 years at an advanced institute in Moscow, was discharged shortly after she applied for a visa. Alek Volkov, 33, a professor of piano at the Kharkov conservatory, was demoted to page turner for other professors. The KGB also regularly searches the homes of visa applicants and sometimes carts them off to jail on trumped-up charges.

There is no way of knowing how many Jews would seek to leave if they could apply without fear of retaliation; admittedly rough estimates indicate that as many as 300,000 would apply immediately. Undoubtedly the majority of Soviet Jews regard themselves as loyal citizens and would prefer to stay. There are some Jews who, out of either fear or conviction, are prepared to take part in staged press conferences in which they denounce Israel as an imperialist power and pledge their complete allegiance to the Soviet Union. But there is also an embryonic civil rights-type movement among some 100,000 or so young Jews, mostly engineers and scientists. Their goal is to break down the official barriers against their advancement and gain complete acceptance in Soviet society.

For Soviet Jews, world opinion offers partial protection at best. The recent worldwide outcry against the Kremlin's treatment of its Jewish citizens undoubtedly had an impact—the death sentences meted out to two Jews in Leningrad were commuted and a second round of trials of Jews was postponed. Even so, foreign opinion can accomplish only so much. The problem is that Soviet Jews can do even less—unless they are willing to take grave risks. That point was dramatically illustrated last week when Amsterdam's daily De Telcgraaf arranged to telephone, in a still undisclosed manner, a Jewish family in Riga. Realizing that the KGB might well be recording the call, the paper's reporter asked: "Aren't you afraid they are going to use all this against you?" Said a woman at the other end: "They have given us so much misery we are not afraid any more." When the reporter wound up the call, he told the Riga Jews: "We will call you again next week if you want us to." The reply: "That's good. If we are still here."