Partisans on both sides are trying to draw Estonia's tiny Jewish population into
the fray over the government's decision to relocate a Soviet
war memorial.
TALLINN, Estonia (JTA) – Partisans on both sides are trying to draw this country's
tiny Jewish population into the bitter fray over
the Estonian government's decision to relocate
a Soviet war memorial.
The "Bronze
Soldier," a statue representing a World War II-era Red Army fighter, was moved from its
central downtown location to a military cemetery
on the outskirts of town, sparking violent riots
and retaliation from the Russian government.
One rioter
was killed, 150 were wounded and more than 1,000
were detained in the worst street violence to
hit the Estonian capital since it left the Soviet
orbit in 1991.
Local Jews
are trying to stay out of what has become an
international melee.
"We
don't want to be small soldiers in a big war," said Alexander Dusman, chairman of the small Jewish community of Ida-Virumaa
in northern Estonia. "It's very difficult to be in the middle."
Ethnic Russians,
who comprise one-quarter of Estonia's 1.3 million
people, consider the statue's removal this spring
as an insult to the Soviet Army, which liberated
Estonia from Nazi occupation in 1944.
Many ethnic
Estonians, a majority of the country's population,
view the 6-foot, 5-inch statue as a chafing reminder
of the Soviet Union's 47-year postwar occupation
of their country.
"For
Russians it's a symbol of liberation," Dusman said. "For Estonians it's a symbol of oppression."
Proponents
of the ethnics' position ostensibly seek Jewish
support as a seal of approval to counter Russian
charges that Estonian nationalism smacks of fascist
revisionism. Pro-Russian opponents of the statue's
removal believe Estonian Jews should be outraged
at the lack of respect for the army that freed
their country from the Nazis.
No major Estonian
Jewish organization has issued a formal position
on the matter, opting to deal with the matter
internally. Estonia's Jewish population numbers
no more than 3,500.
Dusman's community
came to a consensus in a board meeting that the
government's decision was ill advised, but has
not gone public with it.
"Maybe
it's better for the Jewish community now to be
more neutral," he said.
One Israeli
resident of the city described the scenes of
smashed Estonian shop windows in the rioting
as eerily reminiscent of Kristallnacht in Nazi
Germany in November 1938.
"It
was like walking on a minefield," said Ronnie Vinnikov, senior advisor on Global FSU Jewry for the Jewish Agency
for Israel.
The rioting
was followed by protests at Estonian embassies
in Moscow and Kiev, the disruption of rail and
trucking service between the two countries, and
most recently what seems to be an orchestrated
attack on Estonian government, banking and media
Web sites. Estonian officials blame the Russian
government.
The leaders
of both countries have spoken out harshly.
At last month's
dedication of the first postwar synagogue in
Tallinn, Estonian President Toomas Hendrik Ilves
talked about the "need for independence in the light of history."
Russian President
Vladimir Putin has accused Estonia of reverting
to fascism.
"They're
all playing the Jew card," said Yosef Kats, editor of the Jewish monthly Ha-Shahar. "It's between Russia and Estonia -- please leave us out of it."
Kats' opinion
is echoed by the chief rabbi of Estonia, Shmuel
Kot, a Chabad-Lubavitcher.
"This
isn't a Jewish problem," he said. "The synagogue should be above all this."
Estonian Jews
are in a particularly difficult situation, bound
not only by their mixed ethnic background but
also their history and the increasingly hostile
world of post-Soviet politics.
"We
have Estonians, Ukrainians and Russians," Dusman said. "Unfortunately the majority of them are under big propaganda from Russia."
Most Estonian
Jews are of Russian background, brought in by
the Soviets to work skilled professions, or arriving
of their own accord seeking jobs and university
positions in what by Soviet standards was a more
liberal environment for Jews.
Many share
the viewpoint of the Russian government that
removing the statue is a desecration. For the
older generation in particular, this argument
strikes a strong chord.
One 25-year-old
interpreter, who wished to remain anonymous,
recalls the war stories told by his great-grandfather,
a highly decorated commander in the Red Army
who fought from Moscow to Berlin.
The young
man, who grew up in an independent Estonia, has
mixed feelings about the relocation.
"The
riot was a crime," he said, adding that it was the Estonian government's fault. He said also that
the Russian government "could use the criminals," or rioters, to bolster its anti-Estonian position.
While the
Jewish community in Estonia has chosen to keep
silent on the matter, some foreign Jews are speaking
out.
The Los Angeles-based
Simon Wiesenthal Center called the memorial's
removal an insult to the victims of Nazism.
"It
must never be forgotten that it was the Red Army
which effectively stopped the mass murder conducted
by the Nazis and their local collaborators on
Estonian soil," the center's chief Nazi hunter, Efraim Zuroff, told The Associated Press.
Berel Lazar,
one of Russia's two chief rabbis and a key Putin
ally, has been especially vocal, suggesting in
a recent statement to Interfax that the Estonian
government is involved in an attempt to revive
Nazism.
"We
know that extremist forces are raising their
heads in some European countries, nursing plans
to rehabilitate the Nazi ideology," he said.
If Estonia
-- better known for its mix of high-tech lifestyle
and medieval architecture than for radical politics
-- is indeed fostering dreams of rehabilitating
the Reich, one would not get that impression
from speaking to Jews living in the tiny member-state
of the European Union.
"Show
me another country where the president and the
prime minister come to the opening of a new synagogue
and treat it as if it was their own holiday," Kot said.
Although Kot
was reticent to criticize comments made by Lazar,
a spiritual leader for whom he says he has great
respect, he seemed aware of the difficulties
such comments can cause.
"They
are looking at the problem from a very narrow
point of view," he said. "I don't think it helps the situation."
Further complicating
matters is the fact that many elderly Estonian
Jews, struggling to make ends meet, draw both
Estonian and Russian pensions. This makes them
additionally disinclined to speak out on either
side for fear of losing what is for many of them
a key lifeline.
Still, some
Estonian Jewish leaders are willing to voice
their opinions, albeit not in the name of their
community.
Dusman views
the crisis as a manifestation of Russia's desire
to restore its waning political and economic
influence over its former satellites.
"As
for myself," he said, "I am sure that Russia is behind this."
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