Rabbi Avi Weiss is best known today for his religious activism. Until 1999, however, it was his political activism that defined him, landing him in jail dozens of times – perhaps most famously in 1989 after he and fellow activists donned concentration camp clothing and scaled the walls of a convent that had been erected at Auschwitz.
In a new book, “Open Up the Iron Door: Memoirs of a Soviet Jewry Activist” (Toby Press), Rabbi Weiss reminiscences on his two decades fighting to free Soviet Jewry. The Jewish Press recently interviewed him on this topic.
The Jewish Press: In Open Up the Iron Door, you write, “Some of my proudest achievements as an activist were accomplished because I was naïve.” What do you mean by that?
Rabbi Weiss: When you stand up for causes that are right but which are not popular at their inception, it takes a certain naiveté to really believe you’re going to be victorious.
Also, in regards to the Soviet Jewry movement, only someone with youthful naiveté, vitality, and idealism could believe that he or she could go toe-to-toe with the powerful Soviet Union and win.
You were on the front lines protesting for Soviet Jewry. What do you say to those who argue that public protest was counter-productive – that it only made the Soviet Union less inclined to allow its Jews to emigrate?
Whatever we were able to accomplish was with God’s help. But on the human level, public protest played a very central role. And that’s not my position – it’s the position of historians who are experts in this area.
In the book, I talk about the differences Soviet activists had with Agudah and Chabad in particular. I also write about a debate I had with Rabbi Pinchas Teitz – one of the most important figures in Agudah – who was very much opposed to public protest. But on Solidarity Day – when hundreds of thousands of people gathered every year – Rabbi Moshe David Tendler would read a statement from his father-in-law, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, sending his blessings. So even in Agudah there were those who believed public protest was important.
Fully one-third of your book is devoted to Natan Sharansky’s wife, Avital, whom you call “the greatest activist of the latter half of the twentieth century.” What makes her so heroic in your eyes?
One of the major goals of an activist is to inspire others to become involved, and that’s exactly what she did. And she did it in a very unusual way. Most activists and leaders are loud and, frankly, pompous. Avital is the reverse. She’s very humble, and her leadership reflects the teaching in Tanach that God’s voice is not in the thunder or the lightning or the earthquake. It’s in the kol damama daka, the still small voice. Avital would speak softly, and precisely because she spoke softly, sincerely, and humbly, her voice had the strength to inspire millions of people to become involved.
Avital was also able to work with the establishment while, at the same time, refusing to become coopted by the establishment. That was quite extraordinary…. It hurts me to say this, but in the beginning the Israeli government was not pro-Sharansky. There were even those in the government who were encouraging Avital to split from him after he was sentenced.
Why was that?
Because Natan was not only a great Zionist; he was also the head of Helsinki Watch, which spoke out for human rights in the Soviet Union. The Israeli government felt that the person representing the Soviet Jewry movement should be someone who was committed only to Zionism.
At the end of the book, you argue that the Jewish community honored the wrong people for freeing Soviet Jewry.
When communism fell, there was a tremendous push to honor Gorbachev. But honoring Gorbachev is like giving an honor to Pharaoh for letting Am Yisrael go.
Henry Kissinger was also honored. Kissinger is on tape in the ‘70s saying that even if Jews in the Soviet Union were put in gas chambers, it’s not an American problem. My parents were close to people who knew Kissinger’s parents. And they were quoted as saying, “We have much respect from our son, but little nachas.”
The Soviet Jewry cause was a movement of all of Am Yisrael who stood up for their brothers and sisters behind the Iron Curtain. But the real heroes were those in the former Soviet Union itself – people like Natan Sharansky, Yosef Mendelevich, and Boris Kochubiyevsky.
As an activist, you often clashed with the Jewish establishment.
We believed in non-violent civil disobedience. There was a whole campaign at one point for rabbis to get arrested on behalf of Soviet Jewry, called Operation Redemption. The establishment, by and large, opposed that.
There were also many in the establishment who opposed Yaakov Birnbaum [founder of the Student Struggle for Soviet Jewry] when he introduced the idea that the American government should be criticized for not doing enough to pressure the Soviets.
Another major difference had to do with the Jackson-Vanik amendment, which linked freedom of immigration to better trade with the United States and which was critical in freeing Soviet Jewry. There were some key establishment leaders who were opposed to it.
What were their reasons?
Those closest to President Nixon were opposed to it because the American government feared it threatened détente. And when you’re close to the president, you’re vulnerable to pressure. The president says, “I don’t want this amendment” or “Listen, I know what’s best, I’m telling you that the Jackson-Vanik amendment is going to hurt Soviet Jewry.” One of my rules of activism, though, is: Never trust someone who says “trust me.”
Are you still involved in political activism?
Yes, very much so. If somebody asks what my life was about, I hope people will answer, “This was a man who loved Jews.” If you love Jews, how can you not be involved in political activism?
And that’s one of the reasons I wrote this book. I hope people will read it and say to themselves, “You know what? I can make a difference, too, with God’s help.”
