Monday, October 11, 2021

POS 388 - Final Paper

 “Well, I’m leaving! You can stay, but I’m taking the kid and I’m leaving, with or without you,” exclaimed Ernestina Kagan to her husband of 8 years, Savva, across the small apartment in Minsk. Savva sighed deeply and agreed to go with his wife to the United States, leaving behind his family, his friends, and everything he had known for his entire life to travel halfway across the world.

It was 1989 and Jews were fleeing the Soviet Union in droves. Between 1968, when the border was opened to let a limited number of Jews reunite with their families in Israel, and 1989, when Mikhail Gorbachev opened the borders for all Jews to ex-patriate, the “Soviet Jewry Exodus,” as it is commonly known, saw between 140,000 and 400,000 Jews leave the Soviet Union seeking a better life abroad. Since the early days of Communist rule, antisemitism was prevalent. So much so that Jews were marked as outsiders through their passport.

“We didn’t have driver’s licenses like you do in the United States,” Tina Kagan, as she is now known, told me. “All we had was our passports as our identification.”[1]

On those passports was a section, commonly known as “Paragraph Five.” Soviet passports were much more complicated than American passports. The first paragraph was your name. The second, the names of your parents. Paragraph Five was where your nationality was listed. Jews were not listed as Soviet citizens. Paragraph Five listed their nationality as “Jewish.” This marked them as outsiders among the Soviet population.

“As Jews, we were limited in the kinds of jobs we could take,” Tina told me. “There wasn’t much choice in what we could do, where we could go, and how we would earn money. I wanted to be an astronomer, but that job wasn’t open to Jews. I had to become an engineer.”

Suffering from extreme antisemitism in the Soviet Union was a near daily occurrence.

“They would abuse us. Not physically but mentally and often that was just enough,” she recounted.

“In school, I was bullied and treated like garbage. They would glare at me and push me around. I knew I was an outsider every day I went to school,” said Tina’s son, Vadim.[2]

Jews were treated as third class citizens and often feared pogroms against them.[3] They were restricted in what occupations they could hold, what kind of assistance they got from the Soviet regime, and often left to the struggles of being poor in a country that never seemed to care about them

Tina said, “Homeless people wore better clothes than we did. We would spend 6 salaries to buy a winter coat that had to last us 20 years. But the homeless were walking around in fancy shirts and name brand pants. I would think to myself, ‘Well hey, why am I being treated less than someone who is homeless?”

Food was scarce in the Soviet Union, a direct result of corruption in the government. Citizens, both Jews and non-Jews alike were being starved. Even though they had state-sponsored apartments and an income, they still were not able to make the most of their situation. Times were hard.

And yet, Jews were still allowed to ex-patriate on the grounds that they had a homeland outside of Russia, or to be reunited with family that was no longer within the motherland’s borders.[4] Through word of mouth and an incredible underground support network, Jews who left the Soviet Union were handed names on a sheet of paper that they would take with them to their new homeland and give those names to the organizations that helped them escape, in hopes that one or more of them would later get the phone call that they were being permitted to leave and resettle.

A Jewish non-profit, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS), founded in 1881 as a response to a mass migration of Jews out of Imperial Russia, began as an organization dedicated to helping the fleeing Jews resettle in other countries, namely the United States.[5] Broadening their original mission just after the first world war, they helped Jews all over Europe and Asia escape totalitarian regimes and immigrate primarily to the United States, by way of Ellis Island. HIAS would provide financial support, language education, and assist these Jews with the immigration process. In 1961, working with the American Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), and the Council of Jewish Federations and welfare, their attention fell back on the suffering Jews of the Soviet Union. Offering financial assistance and support as they immigrated, HIAS, the JDC, and the Jewish Federation, offered these Jews a choice to immigrate to Israel, or the United States.[6]

HAIS worked with the newly founded State of Israel to bring the Soviet Jewry to Israel, as part of the declaration of a Jewish homeland. But word-of-mouth travelled fast in the Soviet Jewish population, and they found out that the Jews who were leaving in the early days of the exodus were not all leaving for Israel. Some were headed to the United States. Known as “dropouts,” these Jews would arrive at the Israeli consulate in Vienna, Austria, and be asked if they wanted to go to Israel or the United States. By 1989, over 90% of the Jews who fled the U.S.S.R were “dropping out.” Due to war, terrorism, a hostile Rabbinate, and fears of living under a socialist government, not all that different from the one they were fleeing, may Jews saw better economic and religious opportunity in the United States.[7]

But transferring Jews from the Soviet Union to the United States was no easy task for the governments involved. Fearing that Austria would become tired of having destitute Jewish citizens in their country and close the border to any further Jewish immigrants, Israel and its Liaison Bureau organized an effort to transfer immigrating Jews to a town just south of Rome called Ladispoli, where they could apply for American visas at the American Embassy in Rome and wait for several months for the overly backlogged United States Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) to approve their asylum visas.[8]

In mid- 1989, Tina got that phone call.

She, her husband of 9 years, Savva, now known as Sam, and their 6-year-old son, Vadim began the arduous process of ex-patriating from the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union did not make ex-patriating easy for Jews. They demanded that Jews pay back the money spent on educating them as a deterrent, known as “The Ransom Tax,” which was codified into law in 1972.[9]

“It was six month’s salary, and we didn’t have that on hand. We didn’t have any savings at all, we were so poor, so we borrowed from friends, family, anyone we knew, to get the money together to apply to leave,” she said.  

In addition to demanding exorbitant sums of money, the Soviet Union also took their passports and labeled them “traitors of the motherland,”[10] which opened them up to further abuse through the antisemitism that had been rampant in Russia since it’s imperial days.

In 1986, Mikhail Gorbachev was elected to power in Russia. Flabbergasted by the amount of corruption in the government, and pressured to help his citizens out of starvation, Gorbachev initiated two pivotal policies that would eventually lead to the fall of Communism in Russia: Perestroika, “restructuring” in Russian, a policy that was meant to restructure the government to end the corruption, and Glasnost, “openness” in Russian, which was a policy of opening previously censored media to the Russian people.[11] Glasnost would end up backfiring because, once Russians became able to access outside media, they became aware of the massive corruption in their government that had kept them starving and destitute. No longer was the glory of Communism a twinkle in the eyes of the Russian people. Now they were going to overturn their government.

Gorbachev would later say, “I believe that Perestroika started at a time when it was necessary, and when the country was ripe for Perestroika. Not only objective conditions were in place, but also the subjective conditions were in place for Perestroika. Perestroika could not have started because of the initiative from below. It could not have started outside the Party system.”[12]

In August of 1989, the Kagan family left for their new opportunities. Their journey would take them from their home in Minsk, Belarus, to Vienna by train. Trains were crowded, described by Vadim as being like cattle cars, crammed with departing Jews who were routinely abused by the guards. Others, such as Vilena Zaliznyak, along with her husband Grisha, also known as Greg, and their 6-year-old son, also named Vadim, travelled by bus from Kiev, Ukraine, to Vienna, paid for by the Jews who were leaving.

“We were originally going to go to Israel,” Vilena said, wistfully. “My parents immigrated to Israel in 1972, before they closed the border. But when they died, I had nobody that I knew in Israel. So, when we got to the consulate and they asked us where we wanted to go, we told them we wanted to go to America.” [13]

But freedom of choice was not always granted by the Israeli Liaison Bureau. In the early days of the migration, Dutch authorities oversaw the immigration in Vienna, and the Soviets would not let Jews just leave for anywhere they wanted to go. Relations with the United States were still very chilly, and the Soviets would only allow Jews to leave if they were bound for Israel, and “dropping out” was almost never an option.

During the 60’s and 70’s, pressure was being laid on the American Jewry to assist these Soviet Jewry in escaping Communism. Due in large part to the guilt at having closed the borders and rejecting so many Jews during World War II, sending them back to countries that were occupied by a regime that would murder them, American Jewry began a large, coordinated effort to bring their fellow Jews to America. Though the State of Israel had been created as a Jewish homeland, American Jews and HIAS believed in the freedom of choice and pressured the American government to accept these refugees.[14]

In August of 1989, the Kagans travelled by train from Belarus to Poland, crammed into a small car with four bunks, with Tina’s best friend from college, Irina, and Irina’s husband, who were not immigrating. It wasn’t unusual for Jews to travel with someone that was not immigrating. Vilena describes how her uncle went with them on the bus from Kiev to the border “to protect us.” Due to their newfound status as “traitors to the motherland,” they were at the mercy of the Soviet guards who saw them as “scum of the earth” and only took them to the border of the U.S.S.R. before dropping them off at a train station. The Kagans were left at just such a train station in Poland.  They said goodbye to Irina and her husband and waited for the next train to Vienna.

Upon arriving in Vienna, the Kagan family was taken to the Dutch consulate, where they met with immigration authorities from Israel. Upon revocation of their citizenship to the Soviet Union, they were granted visas to travel to Israel, but had no other form of identification.

And they were headed for America.

Once at the consulate, refugees were asked if they wanted to go to Israel or the United States. If they wanted to go to Israel, they were put on an airplane within days. However, if they opted to go to America, they now had to wait for their paperwork to be transferred to the American Immigration Authorities, which took several weeks to a month. Tina, Sam, and Vadim waited for a month for their paperwork to be transferred. This didn’t grant them American visas though. It merely shuffled their paperwork around. They were now country-less and bound for Italy. HIAS would give them $1200 and gave assistance processing their paperwork with the American government, but largely they were on their own.

Once arriving in Ladispoli, they were told to find an apartment and wait for the minimum of 90 days that it would take the backlogged and underfunded Immigration office to process their asylum request, an office that would eventually run out of money to process these visas in May of 1989, requiring fundraising from the American Jewry to keep going.

“(The apartment managers) knew what we were getting (From HIAS), and they would charge that exact amount for rent,” she said.

Not speaking the language, having no resources available, and knowing it would take several months to process their visas, Sam went out in search of work. He would help stores unload boxes and work menial labor for the money they would need to survive in Italy. At night, the laborers would dig through grocery store dumpsters for food to feed their families. There was no meat, but fruits and vegetables were all fair game as they were not sellable but were still edible. Vadim recalls his dad bringing home boxes of fruits and vegetables for them to eat and the rush Tina would make for them to eat it quickly, lest it spoil.

“(The food) was still good. It was thrown out (into a dumpster), but it was still good,” Tina recalled.

For four months, the Kagans stayed in Italy, waiting on their visas to come through, and in February of 1990, they finally did. They were to be one of 15 young families sponsored by the Jewish community in Phoenix, Arizona. Vadim speculated that if his parents had been willing to go to New York City, they would have processed out of Italy faster, but because Tina didn’t want to move to the Big Apple, it took longer to find a sponsor. Within days, they boarded an airplane, bound for Phoenix.

When they landed, they were warmly received by the community.

“There were balloons, signs, and everyone was very excited to see us,” said Vilena. The Kagan family was loaded into a car and driven to a new apartment in central Phoenix. Tina recalls being shocked at how spacious the apartment was. “It was only 400 square feet, but I got lost trying to find the end of the apartment. We thought it was the high life.” Vilena remembers, “The couch was UGLY. It was brown with flowers, and it was UGLY.” They were set up in an apartment complex with many other Russian Jews who were also being absorbed into the local community. They were told that they would be given a stipend, healthcare, and food stamps for four months, and the kids were sent to a local Jewish school free of charge for a short while, but it was expected that they would find jobs and become self-sufficient in that timeframe. Grisha would find a job working as a repairman through a man he met at the Jewish Community Center. Vilena would go to beauty school and become a beautician. Sam began working a landscaping job and carried various odd jobs until he learned enough English to be hired as an technician. Tina would take on work as a housecleaner for some local Jewish families. Tina would come to find that her Russian engineering degree did not translate to American engineering standards, so she went back to school to get her credentials updated. She considers her first job to have been one of the luckiest breaks she had.

“I barely spoke English. I was drawing pictures. There were so many other applicants who could (speak English), but they hired me.”

Culture shock was inevitable. Tina spoke of hers and Sam’s awe at the number of brands of ketchup at their first visit to an American grocery store. “We couldn’t believe it! In Russia you get one brand, once a year, and you save it for the holidays. Here, there were so many brands that Sam and I just counted them. And meat on demand! There was so much meat!”

Vilena recalled her first taste of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “We didn’t know what peanut butter was. I took one bite and blech! It was so disgusting! I said, ‘I’m never eating that again.’” She also said that she had never seen a banana or a pineapple until she arrived.

English classes were not always provided. Vilena says that she took classes, while Tina just learned by walking around. Though Tina had a rudimentary grasp on English when she left the Soviet Union, she “only had about 7,000 words. I couldn’t talk like you and I are talking now until year three. And by year five, I was able to think in English. Now I have to translate English into Russian when I speak Russian.”

The children, meanwhile, were speaking English fluently by the end of year one. Vadim recalls learning to speak English by watching television. “My parents were never home. They were working 2, 3 jobs at a time. So, I sat in front of the TV all day long.” He said that his favorites were the commercials, “Because they showed you what American culture was really like.”

However, at school, they were once again ostracized, this time because they were not observant Jews like the other children. They were taken out of class and given specialized instruction on English, but both Vadim’s recall that they had nothing in common with the observant children, so they stuck to their little cluster of Russian friends and tried to ignore the bullying. Both Vadim’s were put into karate class with another boy, Boris, to teach them self-defense and give them an outlet for their energy.[15]

Eventually the Jewish community’s sponsorship ended, and the Russian Jews moved away. Neither family is particularly religious, nor were they when they came to the United States. But because they were in fear of the deep antisemitism that existed in Russia, they endured the hardest trial of all: becoming a country-less refugee in search of a new life where they wouldn’t be judged for being Jewish and it wasn’t broadcast to everyone they met.

One theme that resounded through all interviews was that the more important reason for leaving was to give their children something they would never have gotten under Communist rule: that of having the freedom to choose how to live your life.

 

Works Cited

Kagan, T. (2021, October 08). (K. Kagan, Interviewer)

Kagan, V. (2021, October 02). (K. Kagan, Interviewer)

Lazin, F. A. (2009). "We Are Not One": American Jews, Israel, and the struggle for Soviet Jewry. Ann Arbor, MI: Michigan Publishing, University of Michigan Library. Retrieved from https://hdl.handle.net/2027/spo.13469761.0016.001

Mikhail Gorbachev ‘Looking Back on Perestroika’. (2002, November 14). Retrieved from The Harvard Gazette: https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2002/11/harvard-gazette-mikhail-gorbachev-looking-back-on-perestroika/

Our History. (n.d.). Retrieved from Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society: https://www.hias.org/

Silver, M. G. (2021, May 14). I left the USSR for America. Now I feel like I shouldn’t have bothered. Retrieved from The Independent: https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/russian-immigrant-america-trump-republicans-putin-b1847882.html?r=86695

The USSR in the Gorbachev Era: Perestroika, Glasnot, and Upheaval. (2017, June). Retrieved from The Henry M. Jackson School of International Studies: University of Washington: https://jsis.washington.edu/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/USSR_Gorbachev_Perestroika_Glasnost.pdf

Timeline of the American Soviet Jewry Movement. (n.d.). Retrieved from American Jewish Historical Society: https://www.ajhs.org/timeline-american-soviet-jewry-movement

Zaliznyak, V. (2021, October 01). (K. Kagan, Interviewer)

Zaliznyak, V. (2021, October 07). (K. Kagan, Interviewer)

 



[1] (Kagan T. , 2021)

[2] (Kagan V. , 2021)

[3] (Silver, 2021)

[4] (Lazin, 2009)

[5] (Our History, n.d.)

[6] (Lazin, 2009)

[7] (Lazin, 2009)

[8] (Lazin, 2009)

[9] (Timeline of the American Soviet Jewry Movement, n.d.)

[10] (Kagan T. , 2021)

[11] (The USSR in the Gorbachev Era: Perestroika, Glasnot, and Upheaval, 2017)

[12] (Mikhail Gorbachev ‘Looking Back on Perestroika’, 2002)

[13] (Zaliznyak V. , 2021)

[14] (Lazin, 2009)

[15] (Zaliznyak V. , 2021)

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Grade: 140/150

Professor Comments: None

Friday, October 8, 2021

POS 388 - Module 6 Discussion

 Prompt: 

Identify one example of the intersection of religion and international migration, drawing on credible news sources, direct personal experience, or published scholarship. Share this example with the class, pointing specifically to the aspects of the example that relate to the various themes and concepts used in this module (religious narratives of displacement, faith-based responses to migration, spirituality as migrant resource, etc.).

Reply: 

My husband, the refugee

In February 1990, Ernestina, Savva, and their almost-6-year-old son, Vadim boarded a train in Minsk, Belarus, with Ernestina’s best friend from college, Irina. Poor Jewish Engineers, forced into their occupations by the Communist government of the U.S.S.R. because they were Jewish and not “Russian,” and therefore ineligible to choose careers, they had their sights set on a new life in the United States. At the Austrian border, the train stopped, Irina got off, and a man on the train collected their Soviet passports. Now country-less and alone, they ventured towards a new life in Amerika, one where they wouldn’t face “otherness” for having been born to a religion neither felt attached to, first in Austria, then Ladispoli, Italy, while waiting on their visa to come through. In May 1990, those visas arrived, stamped with the words “refugee” and “asylum” on them, and the [edited] family boarded an airplane to Phoenix, AZ, having been sponsored by the local Jewish community who promised an apartment with more than one room, Medicare, food stamps, and a fresh start. Ernestina recalled that when she first saw the small 2-bedroom apartment in downtown Phoenix, near Congregation Beth El, she marveled at how spacious the 600 square foot, two-bedroom apartment was compared to the 300 square foot, one room apartment in Belarus had been. “Vadim didn’t have to sleep in the kitchen anymore! He slept on a chair next to the stove, you know. We just didn’t have the space,” she told me. Tina, as she is known now, immediately began taking English classes, since she spoke the most English, and began working at Intel as a construction engineer, a job she has held for the better part of the last 30 years. Sam, formerly Savva, began working any odd job that didn’t require him to talk a lot, working his way up from delivering pizzas to a full-time mechanical engineering job that he held for over 20 years. Vadim, a year behind his age group because of his language deficit, began attending school with the local Jewish children, who ostracized him for being Russian and therefore “other.” Eventually, Vadim was taken out of the Jewish schools and educated in public schools because he was unable to hold more than one language as a child and the family decided to become an English-only home. As a result, Vadim sounds like any other American when he speaks. He even speaks Russian with an American accent. You would never know that he was once a religious asylum seeker and came here without knowing a single word of English, unless you heard his name, which is actually a very common name in Russia. Tina, Sam, and Vadim would go on to become full United States citizens in 1996.

Over the next 10 years, Sam’s brother, parents, and most of his extended family would immigrate to the United States, through sponsorship and religious refugee visas. Tina’s parents and baby sister would immigrate to Israel, with her sister joining her in the United States in the early 2000’s, by way of Seattle, through an Einstein Visa, and her parents immigrating in 2017 through Tina’s sponsorship, something Donald Trump calls “chain migration.”

Belarus, home to Sam’s father’s family since the mid-1800s, and Sam's mother’s home since she fled Ukraine ahead of Nazi invasion in 1934, was no longer home to them. They are a part of the American Dream, going from penniless refugees, fleeing religious persecution from the Soviet government, to become a part of upper middle-class America. Even though neither of them are practicing Jews (Vadim is the only Jew in their family who is practicing, and he only does it to make me happy), the fact that their last name, a Russian diminutive of [edited], marked them as “outsiders” instantly barred them from any opportunities in the Communist Russian empire, no matter the fact that neither family had not stepped foot in a synagogue in three generations. Their Soviet passports didn’t even list them as Belarusian citizens. It stated “Jew” in the race category. “Jew” is even on their Russian marriage certificate. According to Tina, “Jew” was listed on every document they had in the Soviet Union. “I wanted to be an astronomer,” Tina laments. “But that job was not open to Jews in Russia. I had to become an engineer.” So they left the country of their birth, the one that kept them “othered” and oppressed because their last name wasn’t on the right side of history, in order to give Vadim an opportunity they were never afforded: the right of choice.

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Grade: 50/50

Professor Comments: None

POS 388 - Module 5 Discussion

Prompt: 

In this module, we have covered materials that explore how religious ideas and religious groups are working to advance sustainability. But we've also looked at examples of religiously-inflected climate denialism and religious opposition to sustainability policies. How do you make sense of these two diametrically opposed implications of religion regarding climate change, perhaps the most significant issue for international politics?

Reply: 

Scorched Earth

In my opinion, it’s not surprising that some groups are choosing to advance sustainability while other groups outright deny climate change. In the readings, the topic of the apocalypse was mentioned which I think is essential to understanding why Evangelicals are so ambivalent about Climate Change. If the world is ending anyway, and the fact that it is ending can be seen in the destruction of Earth as we know it, there isn’t any motivation to clean up our messes. Evangelicals WANT the world to end, because the world ending will signal the arrival of the messiah, a goal they are taught to seek every Sunday in church. Why would they want to stop that? Adding to that is the complication that Evangelicals seem to think that they have “dominion” over the Earth and can do with it as they please. While religious leaders know that we need to be good “stewards” of this fair planet, which includes taking care of the people who are most affected by Global Climate Change: the poor, Evangelicals don’t really have that value unless it personally affects them. They just want to destroy the Earth “because G-d gave Adam dominion over all that he saw,” and lighting the planet on fire will bring the Second Coming. Questioning those values would lead them to question their faith on the whole, as was stated in the reading. But religious leaders know that Global Climate Change IS affecting them personally, whether that’s because of its devastating impacts to the souls they are trying to convert, or just inching us closer to another Dust Bowl, they know that this planet isn’t supposed to be as roughed up as we have made her in the last 200 years. We don’t have a back up plan if we scorch this planet. And lighting it on fire won’t make G-d do anything other than take us out in the process. I personally just think that White Evangelicals are, on the whole, a very self-centered bunch of people, and I’m grateful that the leaders of so many religious movements aren’t willing to stand behind that ideology.

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Grade: 50/50

Professor Comments: None

POS 388 - Module 4 Discussion

Prompt: 

Based on the readings and videos in this module, who do you think bears responsibility for homophobic and transphobic policies in sub-Saharan Africa? What can be done in response to this issue and by whom?

Reply: 

Where Christianity Went Wrong

In my opinion, I think that most of the responsibility lies solely at the feet of Christian missionaries. Were it not for the need of Christians to pursue conversion to their beliefs and their form of law, I don’t think that the governments would need to create homophobic and transphobic legislation. I think that responding to this mess is a long uphill battle that needs to be walked by all manner of Christian leaders. With the introduction of the Christian Bible, missionaries have imposed their beliefs onto cultures which may or may not have held such strong beliefs. In the video, it was shown that pastors were preaching from a gospel that we here in the United States are feeling as well. Evangelists like Rick Warren give a good starting point, but the lion’s share of the damage has already been done, as shown in the readings, where it is stated that the Presbyterians of Ghana rejecting the United States Presbyterians for being too liberal, as well as the rejection of the Episcopal/Anglican church for acceptance of homosexuality. I think that the damage has been done, though, and now that Christians in sub-Saharan Africa have taken on this mantle, it’s going to be an uphill battle to get them to release their iron grip, especially if they continue to dismiss and separate themselves from more liberal policies that are adopted in the West. The work can only be undone by the same people who caused it to begin with – Christian missionaries.

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Grade: 50/50

Professor Comments: None