On June 13, 1967 Yakov Kazakov arrived at the reception room of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR and handed a sealed envelope with a renunciation of Soviet citizenship to the clerk behind the small window. Kazakov also made sure that his declaration reached the West, where it was published. He was twenty years old at the time. “I don’t want to live in a country,” he wrote, “whose government spilt so much Jewish blood…. I renounce my Soviet citizenship….”

Kazakov’s public act openly challenged the Soviet system. His appeal was published in the Washington Post (December 1968) and reprinted in many other newspapers. His challenge echoed around the world.

I had been thinking for around two months about the letter,” he recalls.[1] I had submitted my documents for an exit visa by February 1967. The authorities repeatedly rejected my application and I understood that I could get nothing out of them by the usual methods. I began to think of alternatives. The events of the Six-Day War acted merely as a catalyst. I had already considered the idea of renouncing my citizenship earlier.

His request was rejected. He tried again on March 20, 1968, noting that he would persist until he attained his goal. As he wrote in his new appeal:

Citizen deputies, I am a Jew; I was born a Jew and I want to live my life as a Jew…. I consider the State of Israel my motherland…and, like any other Jew, I have an incontestable right to live in this state.

I renounce my Soviet citizenship and ask to be spared the humiliation of being considered a citizen of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

Kazakov

20.3.68

 This was an act of enormous courage that entailed so many deeds, each of which could have ended tragically.

Had anyone applied for an exit visa in Moscow before you did in February 1967?

Until that time only those who had relatives in Israel had applied; otherwise the authorities would not accept the application. It worked in the following way: People turned to OVIR via acquaintances or relatives to clarify first whether or not to apply. That’s how it was done in the Baltic States, for example. As far as I know, no one before me had applied in Moscow. Those who did not have relatives in Israel didn’t apply at all. The logic was simple: they only attempted what had a chance for success; otherwise why bother? Under the Soviet regime people learned not to poke their noses into futile matters.

Did you have relatives in Israel?

No one. It all started when I dropped in, or rather, burst into the Israeli embassy. Like all Soviet citizens I was sure that I would not be permitted into the embassy. But I was nineteen years old; I jumped past the guard and he didn’t manage to grab me. I had passed by and looked the situation over several times before this; I calculated the speed at which he was walking and noted when he turned around. Just as I arrived at the gate from the right side, he was at the end of another round at the left side of the gate with his back to me. I darted past the gate; he turned around but it was too late.

Did you know anyone from the embassy staff?

No, I didn’t know anyone. When I entered the embassy grounds, a garage worker with an innate chekist mug approached me roughly: “What do you think you’re doing? Scram!” But I was born and grew up in Moscow so I cursed him roundly, saying that he was not the boss, he should crawl under his own car and not stick his nose in other people’s matters—this was Israeli territory and he was not in charge here. I looked around, in the corner of the courtyard—you yourself know it,—there is a door. When I went up to this door it opened. An embassy worker was standing there silently observing this entire scene. He did not come out nor try to help me… Many years later when I began to work in the embassy this situation could not have occurred. It was  their typical approach then… “don’t get involved, don’t do anything, don’t make waves.”

The embassy worker asked me, “What do you want?” I answered, “I want to go to Israel, how can I do that?” “Do you have anyone in Israel?” he asked. “No one.” Then he said, “There are no precedents. I don’t know how you can do it. We, of course, would accept you according to the Law of Return. But how will you get permission from the Soviet authorities? It’s unlikely that we’ll be able to help you in any way.”

I asked what the official procedure was. He explained that I had to apply to OVIR but that was unrealistic because I did not have any relatives who could send me an invitation [in Russian this was called a vyzov]. Then he added, “You know, if you are serious, come back in a week and we’ll talk some more.” I thought to myself: “It’s interesting how he phrases it… come again in a week! Do I know where I’ll be in a week? Does he know?” … That attitude is typical of Soviet psychology. I burst into the embassy and they are waiting for me there. As soon as I leave it, the police will catch me.” I said to him, “Fine, what do you have about Israel?” “What do you want?” “Hebrew textbooks and material about Israel.” He collected all kinds of booklets and I put them in my pockets.

When was that?

February 19, 1967.

Did he offer to give you an invitation to visit the embassy…or some kind of official telephone number in case they wouldn’t let you in?

Nothing. I think he was sure that he would not see me again.

Perhaps he thought you were a provocateur or abnormal?

No, he saw me slip through. He simply did not understand what kind of phenomenon this was. A nineteen-year old kid—I didn’t look any older. Several years later I had the opportunity to read his report…and it didn’t make any sense. Later on he told me, “When you left, I stood by the window and thought that it was too bad that such a fellow left; it’s unlikely we’ll ever see him again and he could have become a fine officer in the Israeli army.”

He saw the Soviet “comrades” came up to me at the exit, swearing roundly. “What are you doing here, you mother-f—- hooligan…we’ll send you to the police.” Untranslatable, you understand. I said to them, “Here’s my passport.” “What did you do there?” they asked I made up a story that I was searching for my grandfather who had disappeared during World War II, and I asked the embassy to check whether he was in Israel. I had a letter with me that he had disappeared without a trace. They called somewhere and then told me to scram and never come into their sight again or else I could not avoid 15 or 30 days in the lock-up or they also could expel me from Moscow. I said, “Thank you.”

But the embassy official had said to come in a week. I appeared a week later and carried out the same maneuver to slip in. “Hello, I’m here.” “Good, if you come in another week, I am prepared to give you an invitation. But it’s not a real invitation. It’s a document confirming that we are prepared to receive you. Does that suit you?” “Fine,” I answered. When I left, the policeman stopped me. I showed him my passport and he said, “You run in here and make problems for me. They have started to check me out, make trouble for me, deprive me of bonuses.” At this point he dropped an astonishing line, “I don’t have the right to prevent you from entering. If you come in a decent way and they allow you in, I don’t have the right not to let you pass.” I remembered this. When I came for the third time, a different policeman was standing there. He said, “What do you want? Get away from here.” I told him, “You don’t have the right to prevent me from entering. They gave me an appointment. Here are my data, you have a telephone, convey it to them.” He called on the phone, “Go.” That’s all! Soviet psychology at work…. It turned out that the law permitted it. It was just necessary to go a bit outside the box and verify….

The embassy people didn’t know this?

They knew nothing because people did not come to them. They feared their own shadows more than they feared the Soviets. What would I have done in their place and what did I do, in fact, when such a problem arose? I said, “Come tomorrow at noon, sharp.” At five to twelve I went out of the embassy and looked to see what happened. If the policeman interfered I would say to him, “Excuse me, that’s my guest.”

The Americans later on let us into their embassy that way.

Later on, but then no one did it, least of all the Israelis. I thus entered, took the Israeli document, and went to OVIR. I filled out an application and appended the document from the embassy stating that if I received an exit visa from the Soviet Union, Israel was prepared to receive me. The document was truly necessary. According to international conventions on emigration, a state that allows you to leave must have the assurance that you have a place to go to. At first I submitted documents at the district OVIR but they did not accept them there. Then I went to the municipal OVIR but they didn’t take them there either. They said, “Bring an invitation from relatives.” I then wrote a complaint, attached the application and a copy of the Israeli document, and submitted it to the municipal OVIR. I was summoned to the head, Smirnov, who was accompanied by two workers. A general conversation ensued in which they clarified and explained. Then Smirnov said, “There is no general visa to Israel. One can leave only in the framework of family reunification. Therefore your request is denied.” But they did not return my documents! I said, “Fine,” and filed a complaint with the all-union OVIR.

They next summoned me to the all-union OVIR and began to threaten me, real intimidation. This continued until I realized that it wouldn’t work and I had to seek some other method. Then I began thinking that I probably would have to renounce Soviet citizenship. On the day that they announced the break in diplomatic relations with Israel I went to the reception room of the Supreme Soviet; according to law it is the organ that decides issues of citizenship.

Yasha, had anyone before you renounced citizenship?

No. I entered the large reception hall; people were sitting and submitting applications… based on the conversations the majority of petitions were from relatives of prisoners who were requesting a pardon. I wrote my petition to the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet and made four copies by hand. I put the original in an envelope and handed it in through the little window and then went to the Israeli embassy to leave a copy….

Did you consult with anyone about how to do it or what to write?

No, no one knew about it.

You also didn’t consult the embassy staff?

No.

You didn’t even consider it necessary to consult with them?

I understood from their behavior what kind of advice it would be… It was June 13 and the Six-Day War had just ended. An anti-Israeli demonstration was underway near the embassy and the place was full of police and people. When I came up, a policeman told me: “That’s it, you can’t enter, relations have been severed, we don’t even know who will represent Israel.” Outside the embassy gates the disturbance continued. They were enraged that an Israeli flag was flying on the flagpole as a sign of victory.

Usually there wasn’t a flag?

No, we are a quiet people. After thinking things over, I went to the American embassy. In front of the embassy was a lawn about eight meters wide, beyond it were gates in front of which a policeman was walking. In other words, it was going to be harder there because to reach the gates, I would have to cross unobtrusively an additional eight meters. In short, I performed the same trick and jumped past. The policeman caught sight of me and ran toward me but didn’t manage to grab me.

You understood that this could end badly for you.

I understood everything. I jumped past and he yelled at me, “Hey, come here, you son-of-a-bitch, I’ll tear you to pieces.” I stopped and said to him, “Come here, you whore, come here.” He got furious and I said, “Well, come, come here you bitch, what’s the matter with you.” He hissed something else and I turned and calmly went further. He did not have the right to enter the embassy territory. Now I had a different problem. Of course I didn’t know where anything was located on the embassy grounds.

Marines stand at the entrance.

Now they are there; then they weren’t. I went and asked where the consul was. They told me and I entered, explaining to him that I had submitted documents to depart to Israel but the Soviet authorities refused to take them. They wouldn’t let me enter the Israeli embassy because they had severed diplomatic relations. I told him that I had submitted a statement renouncing Soviet citizenship and asked him to send a copy to the UN so that people would know in case something happened to me. I didn’t realize at the time that almost all of the embassy premises are bugged. I also asked whether in principle I could request political asylum on the embassy grounds if necessary. He replied that, unfortunately, they did not have such a practice and couldn’t permit it. Fine. Feeling that I had done my duty, I left.

A whole team was standing at the exit; of course, immediately I was in their hands. You should have seen the face of that policeman! It said everything. “Undress.” I undressed. “Take off my pants?” “It’s not necessary.” They searched everything and checked everything. “Why were you in the embassy?” I said that I had not been allowed into the Israeli embassy and I had come to clarify who represents Israel’s interests. Since I wasn’t allowed to speak with the Israelis, I went to speak with the Americans. The police said, “We’re going to take you to court, you’ll get 30 days, and then we’ll expel you from Moscow.” I told them, “Do what you want.” I sat for three hours while they were busy with telephone calls and discussions.

Was it a cell in the police station?

No, in the corner was a  little caged area toward which all their command ran. Heads had to roll and justly so—after all they had let someone slip by. “You were loafing around and who tricked you? This ‘shmendrik,’ this little Yid? You mother-f…. We instructed you, you mother-f…, we trained you, you mother-f, where’s your vigilance?”

By that time a dossier on you had already piled up?

Of course.

They studied it for three hours?

No. They phoned the service that deals with guarding the American embassy and then the second and fifth directorates of the KGB.

What did the second directorate deal with?

Counterintelligence and the fifth with dissidents. The fifth directorate was reformed in 1967. Filip Bobkov was assigned to head it. The fifth directorate dealt with all sorts of domestic anti-governmental activity on an ideological, political, or nationalist basis. There was a Jewish section, a German section…. There was a section dealing with Chinese.

With Baltic and Ukrainian nationalists?

Yes, that too, but that was a different orientation. The Jews have a state abroad as do the Germans and the Chinese. Then there were religious sections: Pentecostals, Seventh day Adventists, Muslims, the White church [Russian Orthodox outside of the Soviet Union], and the gray church [local religious dissidents opposing the Orthodox establishment]….but they did not deal with the Jews. Then there were domestic problems — all kinds of nationalists who did not have a state abroad. Then ideological problems — Trotskyites, anarchists, dissidents, liberals. The first and second directorates were the main ones; the fifth was a rung lower.

From your point of view was this an effective structure?

It was correct and effective. In 1996 Bobkov, who had retired five years earlier  with the rank of  three stars general and deputy chairman of the KGB, told me…

Excuse me but what was the equivalent of your position in Nativ in the military hierarchy?

In the Israeli hierarchy this is parallel to an “aluf,” which in Soviet terms corresponded to a lieutenant general. The Soviet Union’s problem was that it did not have an effective apparatus for evaluating the activity of various anti-state, political, or national movements within the country. When they set up this directorate, they obtained the first tool for analysis, for creating an effective surveillance system, and a means of pre-empting and fighting against these movements. Bobkov told me that he evaluated the situation and presented an analysis on the Jews but the Central Committee did not accept his proposals. Of course he also analyzed the other groups but the Jewish issue was more urgent. He said, “If this directorate had been set up earlier, it would have been possible to expose the errors in a timely fashion and offer recommendations on how to avert the further development of the situation that had begun to take shape in 1967.” When I began to speak with him in 1996, he was amazed, “”You speak Russian?” “Yes.” “You wouldn’t know it from your name, Kedmi.” “You know me under a different name.” “Which” I told him and then he said, “Oh yes, I remember your case. It was one of the first that landed on my desk. So it’s you!”

Back then, if I had simply come in off the street and I didn’t have a file in the KGB, the decision would have been simple: police, 15 days in the lock-up—a simple police reaction. But it turned out that I had a lengthy file with the KGB. I know that it was lengthy from when I left. At that time they returned the Israeli entry permit that I had affixed to my application for an exit visa. In the corner was a serial number of the page to which it had been appended in the file, number 104. That is, there were 103 pages preceding it. Because there was a file, the police could not do anything until the KGB person in charge of the case said what should be done. Moreover, insofar as the deed entailed breaking into an embassy, the second directorate also had to react in some way—perhaps I was a spy or agent.

Three departments were supposed to deal with my case: the one dealing with the physical guarding of foreign missions in order to clarify how this occurred; counterintelligence to check matters according to their criteria; the fifth to check on theirs. Each of the three directorates had to coordinate with the others and find out their attitude and whether there were any objections; in the meantime, let him sit. So I sat.

Who assembled all this information?

The group whose client I was. In sum, I was the client of the fifth directorate. The second checked—it wasn’t their case. My actions were in the purview of the fifth directorate. They detained me for about five hours and let me go without doing anything.

Two or three weeks later, when it became known that Holland was representing Israel’s interests, I went to the Dutch embassy. I slipped past on the first try—it was easy there, and after that it proceeded smoothly. I met with the Dutch consul and asked him to convey  my appeal to the Israeli Knesset. I explained that since I had renounced my Soviet citizenship and now held no citizenship, I was requesting Israeli citizenship. I reasoned that if the Supreme Soviet handles questions of citizenship in the Soviet Union, then similarly in Israel the parliament would deal with this. A month later they informed me that my request would not be granted because Israel does not grant citizenship overseas.[2]

What happened next?

Ordinary matters. I continued to study and work. I was summoned again to OVIR for a conversation with the same comrades in civilian dress. They repeated that my visa request had been rejected and they began to threaten me. They said that normal people do not renounce citizenship and that I could be sent to an insane asylum or to another equally unpleasant place. I said, “You have the might. If you think that you can do it, do it. You try this method and I’ll try mine.” Then they said, “What if we’ll take you into the army?” “What do I have to do with your army?” I said. After all, I already renounced my citizenship. There is only one army in the world in which I am ready to serve and that is the Israeli army.” “And what if there will be war with China tomorrow?” At that time there was tension along the border with China over the Damanski Island in the Amur River. “I sympathize,” I said, but that is your problem, it’s none of my business” “You won’t go to the army?” “Not to fight the Chinese for you.”

You were already studying in extramural courses. They could simply draft you…

There was a law then that granted an exemption from army service even for extramural or evening studies. In fact, the law was operative until a student went from his current institute to another one but I didn’t know that then. I wrote a statement resigning from the Komsomol in connection with my renunciation of citizenship and departure for Israel. They expelled me at a general meeting and reported this to my work place and institute. Just at that time I had passed an exam on the first part of political economy. They explained that I would not succeed in passing the second part, stating directly, “Either you leave on your own or we’ll fail you on the exams.” The Soviet regime is careful to assure that everything looks just and civilized. I then applied to the Polytechnic Institute’s extramural division. They accepted me and everything was fine. I wasn’t aware that from that moment they could draft me. When they sent a notice from the recruiting office, I said, “What are you doing, After all, I’m studying,” and they said to me, “This is the law.” I said, “Fine” and didn’t go. I ignored the second notice, too.

Did you feel that you would achieve a breakthrough?

I had the feeling that whatever would be would be. But I was suddenly helped by something entirely unexpected. In August 1968 the  Soviets sent troops into Czechoslovakia. This meant that they stopped demobilizing soldiers and started a new mobilization at the same time. Soon It turned out that the army had more people than it could handle. Consequently, in September, after I had received the third notice, they called off the mobilization.

And you persisted in disobeying the notices?

I warned my parents that I would not go; not to accept anything; not to sign anything, nothing….

Did you parents try to influence you?

They tried but it was useless.

Did the KGB try to influence your parents? After all, they know how to do it….

Later my father told me that they talked with him. He told them, “It’s your school, your education. I don’t want to, I’m not going anywhere, I am working…” Then they canceled the call-up.

But if the KGB decides that they want you to get lost in the army, then no cancellation of a call-up would help….

Yes, of course! But this is a bureaucracy. KGB thinks that the machinery is working. After all, no one deals solely with my case every day. According to their thinking, it was settled with the army —that’s it!. The army will take him? It will take. It is sending him notices? It is sending. He’ll come and we’ll settle the score with him. Suddenly the mobilization was delayed to the spring of 1969 while earlier, in December, my letter was published in the Washington Post. That also wasn’t a simple matter. The Post said, “That can’t be!” Nehemia Levanon, the former Nativ representative in the U.S., spoke to them, trying to convince them. He said, “We checked, we know….” It took him two to three months to convince the newspaper and in December they published my letter.

That became your visa….

On December 31, I had an attack of appendicitis and was operated on. The next morning my mother came and said that a friend’s grandfather was listening to the Voice of Israel broadcast and they mentioned my name and some kind of letter. “What does that mean?” she asked. I answered, “It means that I shall travel to the east—the Middle East or the Far East [prison camp].”

Was this letter also published in Israel?

In Israel it was published as a reprint from the Washington Post. After my return from the hospital, I went downstairs to get the newspaper and found an envelope with an invitation to appear at the OVIR office. Of course I went. The conversation was interesting. “Where are you parents? Come in a week with your mother and father. We’ll give you an exit visa. Sit down and fill out the questionnaire.” Until then I had not filled out any questionnaire.

What did your parents have to do with this?

I was a young man. A week later I came with my parents, and mama and papa immediately received a shock: they gave me all of two weeks to prepare to leave. After two weeks they would no longer see their child. “Sign that you give your consent.” Of course they signed. “Come in two days and you will receive a visa.” Two days later I receive the visa and the clerk says to me, “You will never come back to the Soviet Union again.” “I’ll survive,” I answer. He continues, “I am warning you to behave normally and not to make any anti-Soviet statements. We apologize for taking so long to consider your request. You understand that the case was unusual, you have not finished your studies, you are traveling to a capitalist country, we weighed all this only out of concern for your future. We consider that your decision is a mistake but if you insist, then go ahead.” I say, “Fine, thank you. This country doesn’t interest me, but if there are any moves against my parents….”

You mentioned only that topic?

Yes. When I came to the Dutch embassy for the exit visa they told me, “You are our first case of granting a visa from Moscow.”

Did you pay for the visa and the renunciation of Soviet citizenship?

With regard to citizenship, they were satisfying my request without payment. They said that I had to pay twenty or thirty rubles all in all.

Did you  manage  somehow to prepare for your departure; did you study Hebrew?

I studied Hebrew on my own from the textbook Mori (Hebrew for my teacher). When I arrived I was able to make myself understood; I spoke at the airport and in the street. I spent three months in an ulpan in Karmiel and then attended the Technion to complete my education.

 Kazakov successfully completed the departure process. Let us now see how he viewed—when in Israel and later on a trip to the States—various groups’ approach to the struggle for Jewish emigration from the USSR. We shall also see how he succeeded in getting his parents out.

Yasha, did the people in the Nativ office try to speak with you?

They tried. Yaka Yanai (Yaakov Yankelevich) called me in;  I talked with Shaul Avigur, who was then director of Nativ. Nehemia came in afterwards and we also talked; I talked with all of them. I told them what I knew and thought. They warned me not to give any interviews because it was forbidden to publicize that there was some aliya from the Soviet Union. It was a state secret. I asked. “From whom? The Soviet Union knows.” “The Arabs must not know or else they would pressure the Soviet Union and the aliya would be halted.” That was the prevailing view.

Was there a sufficient basis for such secrecy?

No. Later I looked at all those documents. The Arabs discussed this issue and sometimes raised it with the Soviet authorities, but not in 1969, later. But the Soviet Union had a good excuse. First, the number leaving was very small—humanitarian cases, close relatives, the majority not of draft age, elderly people without a higher education. Second, the Arab countries could not complain to the Soviet Union because those who came to Israel from the Arab countries themselves, several hundred thousand people, constituted a basic part of the Israeli population. Soon after my arrival a journalist from Ha-aretz came to me…

Despite the ban by Nativ?

I didn’t tell him anything substantial. He wrote that the interview was given by a recent arrival from Moscow who had obtained an exit visa after an initial refusal. There were no other details. The whole interview was about the situation in the Soviet Union—whether or not the Jews want to leave, the mood in general and among the youth in particular. But I didn’t give any details about myself. They called from Nativ,“ You don’t have the right to give an interview; we warned you!” They didn’t permit the publication of the interview.

They knew that you had given the interview before it was published?

Of course. Nativ was one of the few organizations entitled to impose censorship. But rumors spread and they began to invite me to speak at kibbutzim. I was introduced to Geula Cohen, who was then a journalist at Maariv. At the time, the recent arrivals, especially those from Riga, experienced a certain dissatisfaction. On the one hand, they were oriented toward Beitar [the Revisionist Zionist youth movement founded by Ze’ev Jabotinsky in Riga in 1923]; on the other hand, like all other newcomers, they came into conflict with the prevalent socialist red tape. The Riga Jews included me in their meetings with political leaders of all stripes. Unlike them, I had not been educated in Zionist ideals. In addition, I was then the only living proof that one could fight for an exit visa and obtain it. When they would propose something, they would generally encounter all sorts of objections: “What are you talking about? You yourselves sat quietly, submitted documents without making a fuss and left, not exposing yourself to any danger, and now you propose to endanger other people….” They couldn’t say that to me. I said the same thing, as the Riga Jews, but it carried a different weight.

One can’t say that they sat quietly and didn’t risk anything. They published newspapers, Hebrew textbooks, books and journals, and disseminated samizdat….

That’s all very well. But they tried not to cross a certain line, therefore they said to them, “You didn’t risk anything.”

Yes, you took a risk…and discovered the regime’s sensitive spot.

People often asked me, “It’s incomprehensible. The Soviet Union crushed Czechoslovakia without taking public opinion into consideration; yet, at the same time, in response to this public opinion it gave you a visa. They could demolish the whole world, bring an entire country to its knees, but they couldn’t deal with some kid from Moscow? Where’s the logic?” I tried to explain that there is a logic, that these are different matters, different problems, and different kinds of public opinion. Not to mention the different solutions.

On the international level the Jews were inconvenient for them. All they wanted to do was to leave…and it was necessary either to imprison them in sight of the whole world or let them go.

I said, “Either try me or let me go.” Having created so many obstacles for the court they apparently decided that a trial would be more damaging. They saw what happened in the trial of Galanskov[3] and those of other dissidents. It was impossible to grab me without attracting notice after I had left my mark everywhere. Holding an open or semi-open trial as they were wont to do would focus American Jewry’s attention on the problems of Soviet Jewry, attention that did not exist at the time. It would mean presenting the issue in a most unfavorable light, declaring to the entire world that there are young people who want to leave the Soviet Union and are not permitted to do so. This was not like the Sharansky case, not a matter of conveying information. Nor was it connected to the dissemination of some kind of literature. There was no hook on which to hang a case and it would not have been advantageous to invent one given the system of connections and notoriety with which they were already familiar. I calculated that after they had weighed everything, they would reach the correct conclusion.

At the time we arrived, Israeli public opinion quickly divided into two camps: those who supported us consisted of Herut followers in opposition to the government and those who sympathized with us for purely humanitarian reasons: Zevulun Hammer, Yigal Meir and even Shulamit Aloni. The other group consisted of those who condemned our actions on the basis of party interests or socialist ideology. Basically they were grouped around the Bureau.[4]

Some activists even assert that this second group was against aliya.

Once Tzvi Netzer, head of the PR department in the Liason Bureau met me and said, “You came to Israel. How can you oppose our policy? After all, you’re opposing the state.” I was angry at him, “You…are the state? You are not the state.” Of course they were not against aliya but they were against an open struggle, against exacerbating the conflict with the Soviet Union. They did not understand the Soviet Union and looked at it from the sidelines. They also did not understand the Jews of the Soviet Union.

In his book[5] Nehemia Levanon writes that at first the “Bureau” wanted to bring the Jews out of the Soviet Union illegally.

There was such a program and it worked. For some time after the war there was considerable confusion and instability. About two thousand people were brought across the border illegally. But in the process many landed in prison or perished in labor camps. Yaka Yanai, who later worked in Nativ, was among this group. He was caught, served time, was released, and managed to escape. Mulik Ioffe brought one group into Italy, returned for another, and was arrested. He later died in a camp. Many were arrested and many perished.

Let’s return to 1969 when you and Dov Shperling[6]  planned to travel to the States.

We met many people. At a meeting with a group of officers I made the acquaintance of Arik Sharon and later Yitzhak Shamir—I was in his home, a small two-room apartment on the second floor. Geula Cohen once introduced us to an American named Bernie Deutsch. We told him the same story that we told everyone else. It made such an impression on him that he was eager to familiarize American Jews with this information. He began to plan a trip in conjunction with Jewish organizations in the States. He informed Nehemia about it and turned to Begin, the head of the right-wing opposition. At Levanon’s request, Begin tried to talk us out of the trip.

Ultimately Begin said that he did not have the right to forbid us. People had escaped from behind the Iron Curtain and how could he say “no” to them. Acting on instructions from Tzvi Netzer, who headed “Bar”[7], Yoram Dinshtein, the Bureau’s representative in the U.S., contacted all the Jewish and non-Jewish organizations with which meetings had been arranged. In the name of the Israeli government he asked them not to meet with us because one of us was most likely a spy and the other a provocateur or the other way around. Almost all the Jewish organizations listened to him but the non-Jewish ones did not. I recall that we gave an interview to the Christian Science Monitor. The journalist said, “I don’t understand how the Israeli embassy could say such things about you.”

You were aware of it at the time?

He told us after the interview that they had called him from the embassy and told him all kinds of things. “How could they say that? Your words are the most deserving of publicity.”

After our return Shperling wrote a good article in Maariv about how they hindered us and why. I wanted to sue them.

The Bureau?

The head of “Bar” in Israel and his representative in the States. But Geula Cohen dissuaded me. When we returned my parents were already refuseniks. After Shulamit Aloni’s speech in the Knesset and others’ remarks, the censorship in Israel was a little more accommodating. Then Geula said, “Let me interview you.” I agreed.

Until then journalists were unable to interview you?

They couldn’t publish it. Geula interviewed me at length and sent it to the censorship. The censor left about twenty percent. “This will anger the Soviet Union and aggravate relations.” Moreover, the censor demanded that it appear as if the interview had not been conducted in Israel and that my name not be mentioned. Geula did not agree with this decision and decided to create a scandal. After some struggle, they permitted almost the entire lengthy interview. It was published in two Friday editions, creating a strong impression in Israel. It included everything that I am telling you now and also information about the situation in Russia. Bernie Deutsch, who had arranged our trip to the U.S., then translated the article into English and disseminated it there.

What did you say about the attitude of Soviet Jews?

I said that there are young Jews who have no Jewish upbringing and want to emigrate. Israel gives their life its entire meaning. These young people do not accept communism, and they are prepared to struggle for their departure. Not all the young people but enough of them. They demand an open and more active struggle; they do not fear an exacerbation of relations with the authorities and are not concerned about the effect of their struggle on socialist ideology. I said that one could struggle against the Soviet Union, that it was sensitive to and influenced by public opinion. The usual, trivial things that we knew.

As you yourself said, the Bureau people viewed the Soviet Union from the sidelines. From that perspective it looked like a powerful superpower that had defeated Nazism and subjugated half of Europe. The Soviet Union then inspired fear not only in Israel but also the entire West trembled….

That’s how it was.

The Bureau people were so afraid of the Soviet Union?

Until this day they are still afraid.

And was there a solid basis for this fear in your opinion?

It was a pathological fear, particularly among those who were familiar with the Soviet Union or who had served time in Soviet prisons. In Poland it was not simply fear but horror that had built up over centuries… The majority of israeli establishment derived from Poland. The Polish attitude toward Russia was in their blood.

That is, the Israeli establishment’s position can be explained not by ideological closeness but rather by fear of the unpredictable cruelty of that enormous country?

There is another explanation. Obliquely it could have a negative effect on Israeli socialist ideology. The Israeli establishment was less interested in socialism in Russia and more in how it would reflect on them. They tried to solve everything by means of quiet diplomacy and were terribly afraid of arousing anger.

They had a pathological fear of Soviet might and confidence that it could do whatever it pleased, that it was unstoppable, that one couldn’t fight against it…. They believed that somehow one had to reach an agreement with it. And we said, “First, sock it to them and then reach an understanding.”

Do you think that their fears and apprehensions were patently exaggerated?

Look, we all have our fears and apprehensions. But in their case it was reinforced further because of their ignorance and lack of understanding of Soviet reality and of Soviet Jews.

Are you saying that they did not understand the Jews who had matured under  the Soviet regime, that they knew only the shtetl Jews?

Not even the Jews of the shtetl. They knew the Jews of Riga. They didn’t know the Jews of the Soviet Union—of the Ukraine, of Russia, in particular of Moscow. They did not understand how a Jew who had not attended a Jewish school and did not speak Yiddish could be so committed to Israel. Where did it come from? His mama didn’t teach him this he didn’t go to heder, and his father didn’t bring him up that way.

Evidently, they don’t understand it to this day. How many of those here who graduated from a Jewish school have left Israel….

Yes, of course. In my opinion, it’s a matter of a general lack of understanding in Israel of what is happening to the Jewish people, a lack of understanding of what is the essence of Jewishness and Jewish consciousness at the end of the twentieth and start of the twenty-first century. In the given case this was manifested to the highest degree. It wasn’t that they didn’t want the Jews of the Soviet Union to immigrate to Israel; they simply didn’t believe it would happen. At the time no one conceived of the possibility of a large aliya. When people in the Bureau discussed the issue among themselves, they estimated the potential aliya at several thousand people—in the best case. No one then used such terms as “a large aliya.”

They thought one could explain to the Soviet Union: “We are so little, we don’t want anything, we are not fighting against the USSR, so just give us a few Jews, what does it matter to you, after all, you’re so big, you’re so rich, you have so many people. We don’t want a lot…” This is a typical shopkeeper mentality. They didn’t understand that one didn’t have to explain anything to the Soviet Union. It understood better than the Bureau what was going on. It understood better than they who the Jews of the Soviet Union were and what dangers their departure entailed. When Bobkov, the head of the KGB’s fifth directorate, made his analysis, he understood this very well. The Soviet regime committed its first error in 1949 when it did not permit the emigration of the core group of former members of Zionist organizations and Jews from the Baltic States who had direct relatives in Israel. Bobkov considered that the situation that might have developed without them would have been on a smaller scale, and it would have been easier to deal with it without resorting to harsh measures.

Back to your visit to US. You went on a hunger strike in front of the UN building, demanding that your parents be released. Did the hunger strike attract attention?

Not much on the first and second day. It started on the third day and then it snowballed.

Did you live there, right on the street?

Yes, around the clock.

What about a toilet?

They rented  a mobile home for me with a toilet, which I used.

When did this occur?

In March-April 1970. On the third day the organizations began to arrive.

The Bureau, of course, was against it?

Of course, but it couldn’t do anything. People flocked to me.

And all the time there were articles in the newspapers?

In the newspapers, on the television, and all the radio stations.

And in the Soviet Union they began to understand that your papa was costing them too much….

Representatives from the Soviet embassy came and tried to clarify what was going on, what rights are violated? I said to them, “What’s the problem? You see, I am still alive, but they are not permitting my parents to leave, what could be more simple?”

But you saw the matter in a broader context than merely the release of your parents?

I had placards saying “Let my family go, let my people go.” From a purely PR point of view this was perfect because the Soviets had nothing with which to counter this. They aren’t letting the Jews out? No, look, here is a glaring example. The fellow who tried for two years was let out. Now they are detaining his parents. You can’t say that there’s no problem in the USSR regarding emigration because I can name dozens and hundreds of families, just like mine—they want to leave but are not permitted to do so. What do you have to say about that? The effect was stupendous, bringing about a turning point in Israeli public opinion.

Golda began to understand that the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia was one thing but the departure of Jews was another one entirely?

She no longer had a choice. The pressure and hullabaloo around the hunger strike led to the loss of “innocence.” Golda and a great part of the Israeli  establishment understood this, and well, so let it be. Yosef Tekoa, the Israeli representative at the UN, came up to me….

At Golda’s instructions?

Yes. Then he spoke to UN Secretary General U Thant, who spoke to the Soviet representative to the UN. Tekoa told me, “I just spoke with U Thant. He said that the Soviets promised to let your parents go but you must end your hunger strike. They can’t announce this publicly now, under pressure….”

How many days were you on a hunger strike?

Nine. In December they told my parents that they would leave and in January they were in Israel.

If they hadn’t allowed them to leave were you prepared to repeat your strike?

There was no sense in stopping them from leaving and I had achieved the main goal at that point—assuring their safety. After what had happened, they couldn’t touch them. Their safety was guaranteed.

Did the attitude of American organizations subsequently change?

First of all, new organizations arose; second, Students[8] and other organizations became more active. The Leningrad hijacking trial provided an impetus that raised the struggle to a higher level.

Kedmi’s path was striking and impressive. A growing number of refuseniks dared to follow him in openly challenging the system and utilizing the western media. His hunger strike next to the UN evoked enormous interest in the problem of emigration, influenced public opinion among US Jewish circles, and facilitated a gradual change in the Israeli establishment’s choice of methods in the struggle.

Kedmi’s way was successful but it wasn’t suitable for everyone. One needed certain qualities in order to pursue it to carry it off. Luck played no small role in his fate. Had the attempt to draft him succeeded, he could have been stuck in the Soviet Union for years. Nevertheless, Kedmi’s double breakthrough—for himself and his parents—showed that the borders of the possible in the Soviet Union had expanded beyond that previously considered feasible. Kedmi revealed the Soviet Union’s sensitivity to an open and public struggle for freedom of emigration, which in the West was something taken for granted.

Kazakov’s saga served as a stimulus for those Jewish organizations that despite establishment pressure had been trying for several years to conduct an open struggle. Following his example, they could demonstrate that publicity in the West about Soviet Jewry was less likely to endanger Soviet Jews than to protect them from the regime’s arbitrariness.

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