The relationship between the Jewish nation and the governing systems of Central and Eastern Europe has long fascinated, and bedeviled, contemporary observers and modern scholars alike. Numerous problems continually seem to defy convincing resolution. Among them are such key questions as these: Which factors can be used to define the Jews — i.e., linguistic, religious, ethnic lineage, custom and tradition — or a combination of these? Can the Jews become trusted loyal citizens of a secular state wherein they form a distinct ethno-religious minority? How can the government and/or its supporting majority determine at what point the Jews cease to be productive, contributing members of society, and become instead a harmful burden to the state and its people? Nowhere, it seems, has this collection of thorny issues, conveniently known as the “Jewish Question,” enjoyed such widespread attention and concerted concern from both official and general sources as in the lands ruled by the Russian tsars and, after 1917, by the Soviet commissars.

Writing in 1862, the testy Slavophile publicist and editor Ivan Aksakov complained:

A number of general summaries have been written on the history of the Jewish Antifascist Committee in the Soviet Union, the single major Jewish structure in the Ussr during the following the Second World War. The Jewish Antifascist Committee (JAC) constituted a special phenomenon when compared with similar Soviet organizations. It started as an ordinary instrument of Soviet wartime propaganda, but prevailing circumstances transformed it into a meaningful Jewish structure. Following a few introductory remarks, I would like to discuss one specific aspect of this Committee, namely the nature of its membership. Most of the existing studies treat the JAC in a chronological manner. The purpose of this article is to examine the inner dynamics of the Committee and evaluate it as an elite leadership group of Soviet Jewry.

By the end of the nineteenth century Russian legislation regarding Jews was a congeries of self-contractions and inconsistencies. On the one hand, Jews were hemmed in by numerous restrictions and repressive measures in regard to their residence rights, economic activities, communal organization, educational opportunities, and even religious practices. On the other hand, the limits of discrimination were often ill-defined, being expanded by some laws and contracted by others; in some cases important privileges were granted to various categories of Jews (for example, the right to live outside the Pale of Jewish Settlement) or to the Jewish community as a whole (for example, the right to collect certain taxes). In addition, the enforcement of this hodge-podge of rules and regulations varied from place to place and from time to time.

Since its conception in 1898 the Communist Party of the Soviet Union has had to contend with the nationality question. The Party has had to formulate programs and make organizational and functional decisions pertaining to national rights. It has had to dwell on political aspects of the issue and adopt resolutions touching on the social, economic, and cultural problems of non-Russian nations in the Russian Empire and the Soviet State. What were these resolutions and what effect, if any, did ideological considerations, domestic power struggles, situational factors, and personal styles of the party leaders have on the resolutions?

It is often said that Western study of Soviet society is comparable to observing the tip of an iceberg. This analogy is not entirely appropriate since it ignores acts of deliberate camouflage and misinformation. This leads to a certain paradox. Although the greatest amount of available information covers the top of the iceberg, meaning Moscow, it also contains the greatest amount of deliberate misinformation. Information on areas such as Ukraine, however, is in shorter supply but at the same time it provides a more accurate picture, even if this picture is not an entirely clear one. This view suggests that sociology in Ukraine may reflect more accurately the state of sociology throughout the Soviet Union, even if it portrays a somewhat different picture than that generated by the Institute of Sociological Research in Moscow.

The year of 1948 was one of the most critical ones of the postwar period. The presence of the Cold War could no longer be denied. Berlin was under Soviet blockade; Yugoslavia had broken with the Cominform; in elections in Italy it was feared that the Italian Communist party would be widely successful; France was in the grip of Communist-inspired workers’ strikes; Mao Tse-Tung was triumphing in China. Above all, Czechoslovakia, a country which had enjoyed real democracy from its birth in 1918, until the tragic Munich Agreement in 1938, where its people treasured political and personal freedom above everything else, and at the same time entertained the friendliest possible feelings towards the Russians, lost its democracy and became a Soviet satellite with the connivance of Moscow. Dr. Eduard Beneš, who had returned to his country, via Moscow, as President of the Republic of Czechoslovakia, and who had been promised by Stalin and Molotov, on several occasions, that they would not interfere with the internal affairs of his country, lost his power to Gottwald and his communist group while Soviet Deputy Foreign Minister Zorin, who “happened” to be in Prague at the critical moment on a trade mission, supervised the transfer of power to the new masters of Czechoslovakia.