On my first visit to Stein am Rhein over 25
years ago, I wandered about that medieval walled city northeast of Zurich. I overpaid for an eyeglass case, marveled at the outdoor
frescos along the main square, hiked through the vineyards up to the Hohenklingen
castle, gazed out upon the Swiss landscape and across into Germany. I followed
a winding road along the Untersee, past lakeside villas, and reached the border
with Germany. I passed the border post, which resembled a toll plaza
without gates or payment, and now I was in Germany.
I have been to Germany many times over the
years, originally crossing between the Communist East and the free West,
including divided Berlin, which in its reunified form has become one of my
favorite cities. Knowing we could cross through the Berlin Wall while East Germans were risking their lives for the same chance was a formative experience for a five-year-old lucky enough to have been born in freedom. On one visit in the 1970s, I was already old enough -- and it
was still early enough -- that I could reasonably imagine any middle-aged man
on the street as a young soldier in Hitler's army. In our new millennium, I was
fortunate to work very closely with the German government to come to terms with
that past, and to lead the fight against a newer surge of anti-Semitism and
xenophobia.
Back to Stein am Rhein, I found a bench on
the German side and sat there for a few minutes, casting an eye back to the
border. I imagined myself as a Jew in the 1930s, surrounded by German guards
rounding up Jews like myself within sight of free, neutral Switzerland and yet
unable to escape -- Nazi Germany wouldn't permit Jews to leave, and Switzerland
would only send them back. Back in the safe, post-War present, I took a deep breath,
stood up, and walked unimpeded into Switzerland.
Some years later, living in Geneva, I
prayed regularly at a synagogue along the banks of Lac Leman. Every time I left
the building, I could look up and see the cliffs of the Saleve in nearby
France. Not once did I forget that -- during World War II -- neutral Geneva was
under the eye of Nazi-occupied France, what is today a local tourist
attraction. Ironically, every few weeks I would cross into the French suburbs
-- just like that -- in order to buy kosher meat, because kosher slaughter is
banned in Switzerland.
Even more recently, a colleague of mine
caused some controversy by calling Swiss "neutrality" during World
War II "a crime". In our makeup session with a very senior Swiss
official -- why alienate them if we don't need to -- he tried his best to
explain without apologizing. I used the opportunity to complain about today's Swiss
neutrality: Since joining the United Nations, Switzerland was working to water down
anti-Israel resolutions just enough so some European Union members would break
ranks and vote in favor, or abstain. Don't do us any more favors, I asked. At
least I slept well that night.
So here is the photo which shocked me, the
photo that six months ago would have seemed contrived, even farcical: Refugees escaping the United States into Canada, where they will receive asylum rather
than being sent back to Sudan. Are we any better than wartime Switzerland,
which strictly limited entry and readily shipped Jewish refugees back to almost
certain death?
And what of this latter-day neutrality, this
acquiescence, by any American who sees this and fails to speak out? If not a
crime, then it's a failure to sound the alarm. At the very least, no Jew should
be welcoming this turn of events, no Jew should be able to see this photo
without feeling very raw and almost dizzy. Such images should be seared
into the Jewish psyche, and we should be reminding and sensitizing our fellow
Americans to their meaning.
I am grateful that so many Jews and Jewish
organizations are marching and protesting, and filing legal briefs, and caring
for refugees in our midst. I am disappointed to see Orthodox Jewish organizations
conducting business as usual, and even validating many of President Trump's
policies and nominees -- without actively opposing the ban on refugees or the hunting down and deporting of undocumented immigrants, even on the doorstep of a church.
As long as the federal government continues
to generate fear, sow hatred and deport with impunity, our responsibility has
not been discharged. Fifty years hence, we cannot afford for a Sudanese
graduate student to look across our border to Canada, and recall how difficult
it was for Sudanese refugees just like himself to reach freedom. Any moral
claim we retain from the Holocaust or from slavery in Egypt, any complaint
against Switzerland's neutrality, will be rendered worthless.
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