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Jackson-Vanik opens doors to Soviet Jews’ emigration
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By: Ellen Schur Brown Editor, Family Section
Emboldened by Israel’s astonishing victory in the 1967 Six-Day War and beleaguered by increasingly hostile and anti-Semitic conditions, Soviet Jews began applying for exit visas to immigrate to Israel.
For their audacity and their “rejection” of the Soviet system, these “refuseniks,” as they were dubbed, along with their families were now subject to increased government scrutiny and harassment.
Louis Rosenblum, one of the early activists from Beth Israel-The West Temple, realized the refuseniks were in danger. The Cleveland Council on Soviet Anti-Semitism (CCSA) and councils in other cities began a keep-in-touch program of letters and phone calls.
“I phoned every couple of weeks to stay updated about their situations and their families,” says Rosenblum. “I got to know them intimately.”
Refuseniks enjoyed their first real break when Rosenblum and others attracted the attention of Ohio Congressman Charles Vanik (D-Ohio).
On a 1971 trip to the Soviet Union, Vanik learned of a prohibitive “education and travel tax” levied on citizens wanting to emigrate. This was “pure punishment” aimed at Jews, says Mark Talisman, Vanik’s then-chief of staff. “It was an absolute violation of everything (Vanik) held dear.” Determined to use his influence against this injustice, Vanik told Talisman to find a legislative solution.
“It was Vanik’s idea to connect trade and the behavior of a government against its own people,” Talisman adds. His research uncovered a solid precedent: President Abraham Lincoln suspended trade with Russian imperialists as a censure for pogroms.
The original proposed legislation died but was reintroduced as an amendment to the U.S. Trade Reform Act of 1974. The bill withheld “Most Favored Nation” status from the Soviets until they agreed to ease immigration policy.
Rosenblum’s knowledge about the tactics used by the Soviet government to frustrate emigration were instrumental to the bill’s design. For example, Vladimir Slepak, a well-known refusenik from Moscow, told Rosenblum that the government was trying to draft his son into the army, a way of keeping him from leaving. When the story appeared on the AP and UPI wires, the Soviets dropped their threat.
Meanwhile, President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger opposed citizen groups causing trouble for the Soviet Union, and the organized Jewish establishment was still waffling, recalls Rosenblum. As the push to pass this legislation built, Rosenblum and to his colleagues from the Union of Councils on Soviet Anti-Semitism arranged a trip to the Soviet Union, returning with an on-the-scenes report of actual conditions for refuseniks.
Ultimately, the bill passed the House overwhelmingly. Sen. Henry “Scoop” Jackson of Washington sponsored the bill in the Senate, where the amendment passed 95-0.
The Jackson-Vanik Amendment “wasn’t meant to be anything but symbolic, but it took on a life of its own,” says Talisman. With a real incentive to allow Jews to leave, the Soviets eventually allowed massive migration.
As recently as a month before his death in August 2007, Vanik railed against ever repealing this legislation.
Clevelander Herb Caron feels the U.S. should apply the principles of Jackson-Vanik today in Rwanda, Darfur, Iraq and Pakistan.
Rosenblum continued to serve the cause on the national scene. When 19 local organizations merged as the Union of Councils for Soviet Jews, he served as national chairman from 1970-73. He also met with the White House as an adviser about human rights conditions in the Soviet Union.
Rosenblum ended his involvement in 1978. Estimating that more than 1.25 million Jews left the USSR, Rosenblum writes, “This modern day exodus was made possible by the dedicated work of hundreds of ordinary people.” And it all started in Cleveland at the tiny West Temple.
ebrown@cjn.org
For their audacity and their “rejection” of the Soviet system, these “refuseniks,” as they were dubbed, along with their families were now subject to increased government scrutiny and harassment.
Louis Rosenblum, one of the early activists from Beth Israel-The West Temple, realized the refuseniks were in danger. The Cleveland Council on Soviet Anti-Semitism (CCSA) and councils in other cities began a keep-in-touch program of letters and phone calls.
“I phoned every couple of weeks to stay updated about their situations and their families,” says Rosenblum. “I got to know them intimately.”
Refuseniks enjoyed their first real break when Rosenblum and others attracted the attention of Ohio Congressman Charles Vanik (D-Ohio).
On a 1971 trip to the Soviet Union, Vanik learned of a prohibitive “education and travel tax” levied on citizens wanting to emigrate. This was “pure punishment” aimed at Jews, says Mark Talisman, Vanik’s then-chief of staff. “It was an absolute violation of everything (Vanik) held dear.” Determined to use his influence against this injustice, Vanik told Talisman to find a legislative solution.
“It was Vanik’s idea to connect trade and the behavior of a government against its own people,” Talisman adds. His research uncovered a solid precedent: President Abraham Lincoln suspended trade with Russian imperialists as a censure for pogroms.
The original proposed legislation died but was reintroduced as an amendment to the U.S. Trade Reform Act of 1974. The bill withheld “Most Favored Nation” status from the Soviets until they agreed to ease immigration policy.
Rosenblum’s knowledge about the tactics used by the Soviet government to frustrate emigration were instrumental to the bill’s design. For example, Vladimir Slepak, a well-known refusenik from Moscow, told Rosenblum that the government was trying to draft his son into the army, a way of keeping him from leaving. When the story appeared on the AP and UPI wires, the Soviets dropped their threat.
Meanwhile, President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger opposed citizen groups causing trouble for the Soviet Union, and the organized Jewish establishment was still waffling, recalls Rosenblum. As the push to pass this legislation built, Rosenblum and to his colleagues from the Union of Councils on Soviet Anti-Semitism arranged a trip to the Soviet Union, returning with an on-the-scenes report of actual conditions for refuseniks.
Ultimately, the bill passed the House overwhelmingly. Sen. Henry “Scoop” Jackson of Washington sponsored the bill in the Senate, where the amendment passed 95-0.
The Jackson-Vanik Amendment “wasn’t meant to be anything but symbolic, but it took on a life of its own,” says Talisman. With a real incentive to allow Jews to leave, the Soviets eventually allowed massive migration.
As recently as a month before his death in August 2007, Vanik railed against ever repealing this legislation.
Clevelander Herb Caron feels the U.S. should apply the principles of Jackson-Vanik today in Rwanda, Darfur, Iraq and Pakistan.
Rosenblum continued to serve the cause on the national scene. When 19 local organizations merged as the Union of Councils for Soviet Jews, he served as national chairman from 1970-73. He also met with the White House as an adviser about human rights conditions in the Soviet Union.
Rosenblum ended his involvement in 1978. Estimating that more than 1.25 million Jews left the USSR, Rosenblum writes, “This modern day exodus was made possible by the dedicated work of hundreds of ordinary people.” And it all started in Cleveland at the tiny West Temple.
ebrown@cjn.org
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