Cultural Sovietization in a Multi-Ethnic Environment: Jewish Culture in Soviet Poland, 1939-1941

by Ben-Cion Pinchuk

On 17 September 1939 the Soviet army, in accord with the Molotov-Ribbentrop agreement, invaded the Polish Republic. By the end of October the Eastern and South- Eastern provinces of former Poland became integral parts of the USSR. Thirteen mil- lion and two hundred thousand people, which constituted over a third of the Republics' population became part of the "Soviet family of nations." During the twenty one months of Soviet rule there were strenuous efforts made to transform the former political, economic, social and cultural structures to conform to the contemporary Stalinist cen- tralist and monolithic model. The annexed territory contained a heterogenous popu- lation of Poles and Ukrainians, Bielorussians and Jews. Thus out of 13.2 million people living in the occupied provinces, 5,274 were Poles; 4,125 Ukrainians; 1,123 Bielorus- sians, and 1,109 were Jews. The balance was made up of small groups of Russians, Lithuanians and others.1

"Liberation of the kindred Ukranian and Bielorussian peoples" was among the pretexts put forward by the Soviet government to justify its actions. The fiction of liberation was maintained throughout the occupation and had important consequences for the attitude toward the culture of the different ethnic groups.2 A policy preference toward Ukrainians and Bielorussians was pursued throughout the Soviet rule. Bielorus- sians and Ukrainians were appointed to key government positions. The language of instruction in many schools with Jewish or Polish majorities was changed. The main victims of this policy were the Polish and Jewish population and culture.3 Together with over two hundred thousand refugees, the annexed provinces contained a Jewish population of over 1.3 million people, thus making it one of the largest in Europe at the time. In an area ridden by centuries-old ethnic feuds were to be found some of the more important centers of East European Jewry, such as Mir and Volozhin, Vilna and Bialystok.4

The local Jewish community developed a most distinctive national-religious con- sciousness with an elaborate cultural, religious and educational establishment. In line with the long tradition of learning, ninety per cent of the Hebrew elementary and sec- ondary schools in Poland and many of the more famous yeshivot, such as Mir and Volozhin, were found in the area. Lwow, Bialystok, Grodno and Rovno had Yiddish daily newspapers and dozens of periodicals.5 Many Jewish publishing houses, libraries, professional and amateur performers and artists, thousands of synagogues and Torah-

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study centers, bore witness to the intensity and breadth of Jewish culture in the an- nexed territories.

Communist animosity toward any positive expression of Jewish national identity was pursued in the new Soviet provinces with the same vigor as in the old regions. Officially, the same criteria were applied by the authorities to Jewish culture as to that of other ethnic groups. Formal discrimination was terminated and the Jewish popula- tion benefited from the general encouragement of culture and education by the new rulers. The existing cultural and educational systems were dissolved.6 A denational- ized Yiddish culture was supposed to replace, at least partially and temporarily, the former structure. Yet, as will be shown later, even within the twenty-one months of Soviet rule, it became apparent that the true goal remained the complete assimilation of the Jewish community within the surrounding population.7 Complete integration into the Ukrainian, Bielorussian and even more the dominant Russian culture was the policy of the Soviet authorities in the annexed provinces on the eve of the war with Germany. That policy was in line with Soviet conduct in the pre-1939 borders. The speed and scope of assimilation of the new Jewish Soviet citizens were determined by ethnic "balancing" considerations along with more general policy imperatives.

A drastic decline in the quantity of all Jewish cultural and religious activities was the most conspicuous result of Soviet policy. Jewish religious life, while formally toler- ated was under constant pressure to reduce its scope (as were the different Christian denominations). There was no overt persecution for religious reasons, yet anti-religious indoctrination was part of the official ideology. The well-known negative attitude to- ward religion and any expression of Jewish nationalism and separatism brought about a drastic reduction in all forms of religious practice and observance. Many religious institutions and functionaries ceased to operate because of lack of funds. The dissolu- tion of the kehillah, the Jewish communal organization, resulted in the denial of the major financial support of religious functionaries in the community.8 Thus many of the mohalim (ritual circumcisers), shokhatim (ritual slaughterers) and community rabbis had to look for other sources of income, even without any official pressure.

Much of the destruction of the former religious and cultural structure took place without overt Soviet coersion or even legal enactments. Religious worship was not for- bidden, nor openly persecuted. Yet, the regime's hostility toward religion and Judaism in particular were well-known. Shops selling prayer books and ritual items were closed down, being classified as engaging in religious propaganda, which was forbidden. The same applied to the ramified system of schools engaged in religious instruction. They had existed in Eastern Poland for hundreds of years, yet within a few weeks after the entry of the Red Army the hedarim (traditional religious elementary schools) and yeshivot (higher level schools of religious instruction), ceased to function almost com- pletely.9 While organized and publicly supported religious instruction disappeared, there is evidence of the continued functioning of private classes for children to study the Torah. At this stage, the authorities were not too severe in prosecuting the offenders and frequently closed their eyes to this private instruction.'0

The Shabbat and the major holidays played a central role in Jewish religion and culture. It was obvious that the communist rulers understood well the educational value

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of the holidays and their contribution to strengthening Jewish national identity and consciousness. They became a major target of anti-religious propaganda, particularly during the spring and fall months, close to Passover and the High Holidays of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot. Passover competed with 1 May, a major Soviet Holiday, hence the special efforts to brand the traditional festival as "a holiday not of liberty but of enslavement."1 The High Holidays, a time for community and in- dividual meeting and reflection were sharply denounced by the authorities. The fac- tory, not the synagogue, was the proper place for the masses, claimed the Soviet press.12

The Shabbat became a regular working day in factory and school. Workers were threatened with severe punishment when they tried to have their rest day on Shabbat. Students were under constant pressure to attend school and write on the traditional Jewish rest day.13 Observance of the Shabbat and traditional holidays, was, probably, the most conspicuous evidence for the communist rulers of religious attachment and a sign of potential disloyalty in their new subjects. In many of the smaller towns (shtet- lach) of the region, where the Jews constituted a majority, at least among businessmen and artisans, the Jewish rest days had in practice been rest days of the entire town. Obviously all that changed under Soviet rule. The shtetlach of Eastern Poland lost much of their characteristically Jewish appearance on the sabbath. "Only a few lighted candles could be seen in the windows: there were no children rushing from heder, and rarely could you detect a Jew dressed up in his Shabbat clothes," reported an elated Soviet observer on tour of the shtetlach of Eastern Poland.14 There was a general and drastic decline in the observance of holidays and the Shabbat in the annexed territo- ries which was the result of external pressure combined with internal developments within the Jewish community.

Synagogues as houses of prayer were not closed down by the new rulers. Freedom of worship was one of the highly acclaimed principles of Stalin's 1936 Constitution. While there were instances of closure, the pronounced policy was one of freedom.'1 Yet the synagogue was more than just a house of prayer in the towns and shtetlach of Eastern Poland. It had served in a way as the spiritual center of the Jewish commu- nity. For generations it had been a place to study the Jewish law and a center of learning for young and old, as well as a center for social activities and assembly. Under the new regime the social and communal activities were completely banned, as were most of the regular study classes. Only some old people still came together to study a chapter of the Jewish law. Even in its reduced form, however, the synagogue and its attendance constituted a blatant proof of reservation if not outright rejection of the official ideology. Attending the service in the synagogue was certainly considered an obstacle to success under the new regime. The result was a drastic decline in the number of those attending services, particularly among the young. By and large, the older generation remained faithful to its traditions, while the younger generation, exposed to anti-religious pro- paganda and seeking success in Soviet society, deserted religion and the synagogue in growing numbers.16

In spite of the decline in its scope of activities and attendance, the synagogue remained the most important Jewish institution, a last refuge of Jewish religious- national continuity. It was formally tolerated though under constant pressure from

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the authorities. Jewish religion and its institutions fared worse under the new regime than the different Christian denominations. Churches, too, were closed down and oc- casionally the clergy were persecuted. Yet, one could stigmatize Catholicism or the Ukrainian churches, without threatening the continued existence of the Polish or Ukrainian nations. It was, however, impossible to deny Judaism without endangering the continued existence of the Jewish people as a distinctly viable entity.

Secular Jewish culture did not fare better than its religious counterpart. On closer and retrospective examination, what might have appeared to some contemporary ob- servers as encouragement toward a certain form of Jewish secular culture, was mere illusion. Soviet policy toward Jewish secular and religious culture, frequently difficult to separate, were governed by the same precepts, namely, the accelerated obliteration of Jewish nationalism and distinctiveness. The Stalinist formula of Soviet culture as being Socialist in content and national in its form, was applied mainly vis-a-vis the Ukrainian and Bielorussian groups, much less so to the Poles, and was completely distorted where the Jews were concerned. They were destined to disappear as a distinct ethic entity. Hence, Jewish culture in whatever form or language could not, in the long run, be truly encouraged. Whatever cultural policy was pursued, it had been but a transient station on the road of complete assimilation. As a temporary phase of this road, the new regime introduced a de-nationalized Yiddish culture. It had to serve as a tool to imbue the Jewish masses, who did not know any other language, with the right Soviet spirit and values.

From the very beginning of Soviet rule in the annexed provinces, Jewish culture was not treated as equal to the Ukrainian or Bielorussian cultures. The most conspic- uous result was the sharp quantitative decline in Jewish cultural activity, as compared to other ethnic groups. The former cultural structure was destroyed almost overnight. Cultural organizations and institutions "dissolved" almost by themselves, as did other manifestations of organized Jewish public life. The former activitists fled, went into hiding or were arrested.17 It was easy for the rulers to pursue their plans. Polish, Ukrainian and Bielorussian cultural activists of the former regime were equally per- secuted. While Polish culture was certainly discriminated against, however, there was no danger to its very existence. In contrast, Ukrainian and Bielorussian cultures were actively and forcefully encouraged and the scope of activity dramatically enlarged, albeit in forms and content dictated by the regime. Jewish culture had to struggle for its continued existence and its Jewish content.

Publications in Yiddish may serve as a yardstick to the attitude of the communist rulers toward Jewish cultural needs. A single Jewish daily, the Bialystoker Shtern ap- peared regularly in the annexed territory replacing the many dailies and periodicals which had existed under Polish rule. Der Roiter Shtern was published in Lwow for a few weeks in June 1941. No other Jewish publications existed in former Eastern Po- land under Soviet rule. All printed material in Yiddish had to be imported from the older Soviet provinces. Yiddish never reached the same status as other languages in the formal usage, in spite of a pronounced policy of equality between all the spoken languages in the region.18 Hebrew, the ancient tongue of the Jewish people, was com- pletely prohibited in school, public cultural activities of any kind, and in print. He-

Jewish Culture in Soviet Poland 167

brew already has been branded as part of a reactionary ideology-Zionism-in the 1920s, and as such was persecuted since then.19 An unsuccessful attempt to diminish the influence of Hebrew on Yiddish by using the phonetic script and changing ac- cepted spelling of Hebrew words into Yiddish was made; and equality with other ethnic languages was not even contemplated.

Two major phases may roughly be distinguished in the cultural policy of the So- viet government in the annexed territories. The first phase lasted from the entry of the Red Army into the area till June 1940. Phase two, which coincided with a more general hardening and acceleration of the sovietization process, lasted from June 1940 until the end of Soviet rule in June 1941. Contemporary observers, living or visiting Eastern Poland in the first few months after the annexation, were left with the impres- sion that Jewish culture, in Soviet form, would flourish under the new rulers. The ranks of the local Jewish cultural elite were swelled by the arrival of many dozens of refugee authors, journalists, performers, artists, and so forth. They were ready to integrate into the Soviet culture, although, most of them did not really know what it meant. Equality for the cultures of all ethnic groups and promises for generous assistance to all the artists were aired by the new rulers. At this stage the Soviet regime was glad to receive any help to ease and facilitate the transition into Soviet reality.20 Some people were aware that the fate of Jewish culture in the annexed territories would not be any different from that in the Soviet Union proper. Peretz Markish was among the few who did not nourish illusions as to the final fate of the Jewish culture in Eastern Po- land. Others were misled for a while.21 After June 1940 came a period of gradual "shrinking" of all Jewish cultural-educational activities. The harsher line was evident in curtailing the scope of Jewish cultural activities, and more frequent criticism of "nationalistic Zionist deviations." By May-June 1941 it had turned into a genuine purge against Jewish culture and activists.22

The Bialystoker Shtern was then the only Jewish publication in former Eastern Poland. It was a major tool to reach the Jewish masses who could not read any other language than Yiddish. Like other institutions in the territories, the paper was managed and supervised by officials who came from the East. From the beginning of 1940, B. Shulman was the editor in chief.23 The paper was mistakenly considered by many of its readers, newcomers to the Soviet system, not only the mouthpiece of the regime, but also as playing a major role in shaping the Jewish policy of the rulers. That cer- tainly was not the case. True to the prevailing standards of the Stalinist press, the Bi- alystoker Shtern extolled the virtues of the regime and its leaders. The staff itself was under constant supervision and potentially suspect of "Jewish nationalistic" inclina- tions.24 Reporters from the Yiddish paper participated in many propaganda activities among Jewish workers as an integral part of their work. Being the only Jewish publi- cation in the new provinces, the paper served as a "watch dog" over other Jewish cul- tural activities in the theater, literature and the arts in general.25 As other Soviet papers, during the years that the cult of Stalin reached its peak, the Bialystoker Shtern also contained very little information that interested its readers, as Soviet citizens, and even less so as Jews. The most urgent problems that concerned the Jewish people did not find any reflection in the Soviet Yiddish paper. Nazi Germany had to be treated as

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an ally of the Soviet state, notwithstanding the fate of the Jews under its rule. Reading the paper one gets the impression that it was designed to conceal and confuse rather than reveal and inform its readers. The creation of a new Soviet citizen from among the shtetl Jews, was an important theme of the paper. Its main Jewish content was rather the frequent and virulent attacks on Jewish religion, Shabbat and holidays. It would be no exaggeration to claim that the treatment of Judaism was fairer by the general Soviet press than by its Jewish counterpart. The Bialystoker Shtern, the only Jewish publication in a region that had a most impressive Jewish publishing history, could not serve as a source of inspiration or identification for its Jewish readers. Seem- ingly, those in charge had no interest whatsoever in strengthening Jewish identity or consciousness in any form.

Soviet Yiddish authors and publishers were aware from the outset of the large reading public that was added to their domain. In Moscow, Kiev and Minsk, where the Yiddish publishing houses were located, people realized that unforeseen opportu- nities to disseminate Soviet Yiddish literature were opened with the annexation of Eastern Poland. Soviet literature was supposed to replace the "decadent clerical and reactionary" books of the former order. The new books were to teach and produce identification with the goals and values of the Socialist state. Festive meetings of the editorial staff, resolutions and grandiose plans were undertaken in the first few months after annexation "to supply Soviet-Yiddish literature" to the new areas. In Kiev, a deci- sion was made to publish a series of brochures on "life and people in the USSR."26 The intention was also to produce a series of political-artistic books "to relate to our brethren in Western Ukraine about the happy life in the Soviet Union." Emes, the major Yiddish publishers in Moscow, decided to include songs, articles and visual illustra- tions in their publication dedicated to the liberation. Markish was commissioned to prepare a short film on Jewish life in the USSR.27 A series of political, literary, and artistic books were designed specifically for the use of the new Jewish citizen of the Soviet Union by the Minsk-Bielorussian publishing house. The series would include Soviet Yiddish authors, such as Bergelson, Markish, and Akselrod as well as the Yid- dish classics of Mendele, Shalom Aleichem and Perets.28 Reality justified the high hope of Soviet Yiddish publishers. "There is indeed a large consumer public for our litera- ture in the liberated provinces of Western Urkaine and Bielorussia" confirmed the Emes publishers. "The demand for our books in the liberated areas is indeed great. It might have been even greater had the distribution nets been more cooperative (with us)."29 Lack of an independent distribution network was a major obstacle to the spread of Soviet Yiddish books in the territories.

"Books for the masses in the Western Provinces" continued to occupy an impor- tant place in Soviet Yiddish press. Tens of thousands of booklets and pamphlets were actually sent to the provinces. Yiddish classics, Soviet literature, thousands of copies of "Stalin's Constitution" and other writings of the leader, were among the works sent to the Western provinces.30 No doubt, the market for Yiddish literature was indeed large, particularly since local Yiddish publishing had ceased almost completely. The Soviet publishers, however, could not meet the demand. Despite repeated requests and complaints, the orders from the Western provinces actually carried out by the distribu-

Jewish Culture in Soviet Poland 169

tion networks were few and insufficient.31 All of this was no mere accident nor was it caused by simple bureaucratic inefficiency. The Jewish masses were increasingly de- nied even the de-nationalized literature of the Soviet publications. It was yet one more indication that assimilation remained the goal of the Soviet rulers.

Libraries were valuable vehicles of culture and education. Every shtetl in Eastern Poland had its library and every synagogue had its books on Judaism. The libraries were greatly valued in a community that held books and learning in high esteem. One of the first acts of the new rulers was the closure of all libraries and their reopening after a purge from all undesirable works. The authorities had rather clearcut standards as to what could be read by its Jewish citizens.32 Local libraries were occupied by spe- cial inspectors who came from the East and were assisted by local communists or their sympathizers. According to prepared instructions, all books in Hebrew, the ideolog- ical enemy, were banned, regardless of author, subject or content matter. These books were reactionary since they were written in Hebrew; no other proof of their nature was necessary. Even for books in Yiddish, the criteria applied were more rigid than those towards Russian or Polish classics. Chaim N. Bialik and Shalom Asch, for ex- ample, were excluded because they left Russia. Sholem Aleichem, Mendele and Perets were generally, but not totally, approved.33 No wonder that out of libraries that in- cluded tens of thousands of books, only a few hundred were found to be "kosher." Books found "unsuitable" for the broad public were either used as pulp or transferred occasionally to closed research libraries. Many libraries, which were centers of learning were closed, never to be reopened.34 As late as January 1941, fifteen months after "liber- ation" we read a report in a Yiddish-Soviet publication that "most libraries in the Western Ukraine are still in the reorganization stage."35

Jewish culture in the new Soviet provinces did not benefit as it could have, from the presence of a large group of refugee writers, artists and performers who fled to the region from German-occupied Poland. Some of the more prominent cultural figures of Polish Jewry such as Moshe Broderzon; Zusman Segalovich; Avraham Zak; A. Kat- sizna, could be found in the group. Many of them were old sympathizers of the Soviet Union and even outright communists. Lwow and Bialystok, the two largest urban centers of the annexed territories become the natural residence of many refugee writers and performers. The authorities were aware of the potential of this group but were suspi- cious of its ideological background. A special hostel and kitchen were provided for the refugee writers and artists.36 The writers who wanted to become members of the Soviet Union of Writers had to pass an ideological investigation and loyalty test. Mem- bership in the Union was the only way to publish and earn a living as a writer.37 Those who were found loyal soon learned the true meaning of being a Jewish writer in Stalinist Russia. "Socialist realism" meant in those days the cult of Stalin in its crudest forms. Proletarian struggle, Jewish cooperation with other Soviet nationalities, class an- tagonism in the shtetl, and so forth, were the proper subjects for a Soviet writer. The Soviet way of life and "socialist happy future" were themes most encouraged by the authorities. This was made abundantly clear to the newcomers to the system by "writers brigades" who came from the East. Most refugee writers ceased their artistic work, whether because of ideological reasons or their inability to adapt to the requirements

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of the regime. Jewish subject matter was always suspect. No mention could be made of the Jewish fate under Nazi-occupied territories. Nothing was allowed to blemish the relations between the Soviet Union and its newly found friends.38 The result was that a great reservoir of talent and good will was wasted. The quality and further de- velopment of Jewish culture, however, was not really a high priority with the Soviet authorities.

In spite of an obvious policy designed to bring about the assimilation of the Jewish population into the surrounding society, there are also many reports that there were large sections of the community that felt a "cultural bloom" under the new rulers. The poor and the young in the numerous shtetlach of the region shared the feeling that the Soviets cared for the cultural needs of the population. "There had been a notice- able increase in the activities of the different cultural fields. Clubs were opened; the- ater performances became more frequent, and a large library was opened to serve the community," recalled a Lanin inhabitant.39 "It was noticeable that the authorities cared for the cultural needs of the masses. There was an abundant supply of papers, movies, performances, etc.," reported a Dubno Jew.40 From Bransk another witness claims that the "Jewish population was happy during the twenty-one months of Soviet rule. They felt as free and equal citizens."4 Bransk enjoyed, according to the same narrator, ex- tensive opportunities for adult education, amateur drama circle and choir, movies and a dancing floor. The shtetl Jews took advantage, probably even to a larger extent than the non-Jewish population, of the varied cultural activities directed to the masses which characterized the Soviet regime. It should be noted that the favorable reports did not come from old-time communists, fellow travelers or new converts; rather, the evidence is that these reports came from people without party allegiance who lived in the region.

There were many aspects of the new regime that appealed to the broader masses of the Jewish population. This should be viewed against the background of the secularizing tendencies which had existed in the community as well as the discrimina- tion and deprivations of the previous regime. Overt discrimination was abolished by the Soviet authorities. Jews were considered equal citizens and antisemitism was con- demned. Free education was available to all and at all levels. Most of the Jewish popu- lation neither knew nor understood the goals of the Soviet Jewish policy. Yiddish was the language used by the masses in everyday life and its enhanced status was certainly favored by many. "We feel a special thrill when in the streets of Lwow could be heard Yiddish words through the loudspeaker coming from the State radio," recalled Tania Fuks.42 Intellectuals and simple people alike shared the feeling. The favorable reports of a "cultural reflourishing" under Soviet rule represent authentic sentiments of large portions of the Jewish community and are based on important facets of Soviet cul- tural policies and actions.

Theater, radio and movies were highly esteemed by the communist regime as means to reach large audiences, to indoctrinate and entertain. Professional and amateur groups of performers formed the backbone of a ramified network of Yiddish theater in the Western provinces of Ukraine and Bielorussia, as the annexed territories were desig- nated in official paralance. Yiddish State Theaters were established in the two major cities of the provinces, Lwow and Bialystok. They were headed by A. Moravski in Bi-

Jewish Culture in Soviet Poland 171

alystok and Ida Kaminska in Lwow.43 Performers were local artists who were joined by many refugee actors from the Nazi-occupied territories, as well as from disbanded Soviet Yiddish troupes.44 M. Broderzon was the artistic-literary director of the so-called Miniature Theater in Bialystok, with two of the most famous performers in Poland, Dzhigan and Shumacher.45 "City Theaters," were found in places like Pinsk, Baranowicz, Grodno, Tarnopol and others, and were mostly of local-regional value. All the profes- sional theaters formed an elaborate and integral system of theatrical activity based on amateur groups in many shtetlach, cooperatives, schools, and so forth.46 A drama section in Yiddish on Radio Lwow dealt weekly with the theater and the arts.47 Mu- sical bands, choirs, folk music circles, dancing groups, all designed to draw large numbers of people, were established throughout the new Soviet territories. Much money and time was devoted to amateur activities. Competitions, regional meetings, "all repub- lican" and "all Union" contests were regularly held to encourage mass participation and attention to popular cultural activities. Jewish students at all levels of learning, cooperatives and many towns and shtetlach took part in these cultural activities.48

Much time and energy was devoted to the selection of ideologically proper plays, and their performance so that they would conform to the "Soviet spirit." One always had to be on guard not to slip from the proper line and interpretation. It was particu- larly hard for performers brought up in a different theatrical tradition. The tight polit- ical control was part of the price paid for getting a job and economic security that went with it.49 "We need Soviet content and themes to replace the old subjects" was frankly announced by N. Kompanicks, the director of the culture department of Western Ukraine. There were subjects that could not be touched or even hinted at on the Soviet stage. Nazi-Germany, not long ago a central subject for criticism and satire on the Soviet stage, could not be even mentioned. As Jews, the performers found it difficult to be silent, yet any attempt to circumvent the ban on anti-German expressions were severely punished. The repertoire of the Yiddish theaters was eventually composed of a combination of classic Yiddish plays by Goldfadn, Perets, and Sholem Aleichem, who were adapted and "cleaned," and Soviet works by Markish, Bergelson, Halkin, and others.50 In spite of the supervision and censorship the performers were received enthusiastically by the Jewish public. The theater was the only Jewish cultural institu- tion that remained active, and the scope of its activity was even broadened. On the extensive tours in the many shtetlach of the annexed territories, the Yiddish Soviet theaters served to spread the impression that the new rulers cared for culture and the entertainment of the masses.51

Contributing to the sense of the cultural boom among the inhabitants of the Western provinces had been the spread of the radio and cinema network by the new authorities. Kinofikatsia and Radiofikatsia as they were dubbed by the Soviets, were considered of tremendous value for the indoctrination and political mobilization of the new citizens. Since radio receivers were expensive and difficult to control, public loudspeaker systems were built all over the territories.52 Radio braodcasts were used for entertainment, music, news and, above all, ideological indoctrination. As we have seen above, the Lwow station carried a regular program in Yiddish, to the great delight of many. Movies reached mass audiences, since tickets were free or very inexpensive

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and easily available. New cinemas were among the first public buildings built or repaired by the Soviet authorities. Smaller places were served by dozens of portable movie units brought over by the Red Army. Much effort was devoted to ensure the confortable viewing of new movies that were supplied from the interior.53 Radio and movies were brought to the region for the population at large. As a consequence, their availability enhanced the feeling among the Jewish population that the new rulers devoted more attention to their cultural needs than the former regime. In spite of the obvious use of the different cultural activities for propaganda purposes, the Jewish population took advantage of them, thus participating in their integration into Soviet society together with other ethnic groups.

Within twenty-one months, the Soviet authorities tried to bring about a most drastic transformation of the cultural system of the newly-acquired territories. The goal was to conform to the culture existing in the USSR at the time. Local conditions and inter- national considerations determined the speed of the process. It could not be achieved overnight. Encouragement of the Ukrainian and Bielorussian population as part of an anti-Polish policy in the provinces was not always compatible with Moscow's oppo- sition to Bielorussian and Ukrainian nationalism in its own territories. Hence the con- tradictions in Soviet policy. At times the Jewish population was used among the different ethnic groups for "balancing" purposes. By and large, however, Soviet cultural policy vis-a-vis the large Jewish community was determined by more general considerations. The objective of the policy was the destruction of the old order that helped to preserve Jewish distinctiveness and its replacement by a de-nationalized Soviet Yiddish culture, and, finally, complete assimilation.

A radically reduced religious structure, a few state supported theaters and one daily were all that was left of the elaborate religious and secular cultural structure that had existed in former Eastern Poland. This de-nationalized Yiddish culture, combined with the general growth of mass cultural activities, produced in some people the illu- sion of a cultural flourishing. Yet by the summer of 1940, it should have been clear that nothing was really different in the new territories. The cultural situation was fast being equalized with that of the USSR proper. Jews as individuals and as a commu- nity were losing more and more of their distinctive cultural characteristics and were being assimilated into the surrounding Soviet culture.

NOTES

* The research for the present article was partly assisted by grants from the Israeli Academy of Science and a Sherman Fellowship.

1. According to the calculations of the Polish government-in-exile. See File A-9-III-1-1, p. 9, in the Archive of The Polish Institute and Sikorski Museum, London. The files belonged, mostly, to the Polish government-in-exile situated in London. The archives contain most valuable materials for the study of the period, 1939-1945.

2. Ann S. Cardwell, Poland and Russia (New York, 1944), p. 46. 3. Ibid., pp. 52-71. 4. Hugh Seton-Watson, Eastern Europe Between the Wars, 1918-1941 (New York, 1967), pp. 268-319.

Jewish Culture in Soviet Poland 173

5. Bernard D. Weinryb, "Polish Jews under Soviet Rule," in Peter Meyer, et al., eds., The Jews in the Soviet Satellites (Syracuse, N.Y., 1953), pp. 332-33.

6. Nicholas P. Vakar, Byelorussia (Cambridge, Ma., 1956), pp. 156-65. 7. Hersh Smolar, "Jewish Life in Soviet Western Bielorussia, Flowering and Decline, 1939-1941" (He-

brew), Shvut, 4 (1975), 126-36. 8. Ben-Cion Pinchuk, "The Sovietization of the Jewish Community of Eastern Poland, 1939-1941,"

Slavonic and East European Review, 56 (1978), 393. 9. Sefer Volozhin [Book of Volozhin] (Tel Aviv, 1970), p. 532. Sefer Mir, [Book of Mir] (Jerusalem,

1962), p. 585. 10. Volozhin, p. 532. Sefer Dereczyn [Book of Dereczyn] (Tel Aviv, n.d.), p. 385. (Hereafter the titles

of all memorial books will be shortened to the names of the towns). 11. Title of article in the Soviet Yiddish paper, published in Bialystok, Bialystoker Shtern [Star of Bi-

alystok], 13 April 1941. 12. Ibid., 6 October 1940; and also 16 February 1940. Oktiaber [October] (Yiddish daily-Minsk),

21 August 1940. 13. SeferEdut Vzikaron LikhilatPinsk-Karlin [Book of Witness and Memory for the Kehillah of Pinsk-

Karlin] (Tel Aviv, 1966), p. 320 (hereafter called Pinsk). Pinkas Ostrog [Book of Ostrog] (Tel Aviv, 1960), p. 105. Sefer Izkor Likhilat Sarny [Memorial Book of the Kehillah of Sarny] (Tel Aviv, 1966), p. 267.

14. Oktiaber, 21 August 1940. 15. Although there are testimonies to the closure, under various pretexts, of synagogues, the official

policy remained one of tolerance toward the continued functioning of the houses of prayer. See Sefer Zik- haron Likhilat Lipniszki [Memorial Book of the Kehillah of Lipniszki] (Tel Aviv, 1968), p. 135; Sefer Zikaron Dubno [Memorial Book of Dubno] (Tel Aviv, 1966), p. 236; Sefer Zikharon Likhilat Iwie [Memorial Book of the Kehillah of Iwie] (Tel Aviv, 1968), p. 295; and Janow al Yad Pinsk, Sefer Zikharon, [Janow near Pinsk, Memorial Book] (Jerusalem, n.d.), p. 313, See also Pinsk, p. 291.

16. Janow, p. 312; Pinsk, p. 320; and Rishonim Lamered, Lachwa [First to Rebel, Lachwa ] (Jerusalem, 1957), p. 37. See also Mir, p. 586.

17. Avraham Zak, Knecht Zenen Mir Geven [We Were Slaves] (Buenos Aires, 1956), I, 32. The author, a well-known Jewish writer, lived in Eastern Poland during the first few months of Soviet rule, before being exiled.

18. Shoat Yihudei Polin [The Catastrophe of the Polish Jews] (Jerusalem, 1940), p. 60. Vakar, Bye- lorussia, p. 60.

19. Zvi Gittelman, Jewish Nationality and Soviet Politics: The Jewish Sections of the CPSU, 1917- 1930 (Princeton, N.J., 1972), pp. 276-77.

20. Smolar, "Jewish Life," pp. 133-36. 21. "The fate of Jewish culture in the Western Provinces would not be different from that in the Western"

assured Ponomarenko, the general secretary of the Bielorussian Communist party, when he met Markish in Feburary 1940. The Jewish poet, on his way for a visit to the "liberated territories" was warned not to foster improper ideas among the local Jews, since their culture was destined to perish. See Ester Markish, Lakhzor Miderekh Aruka [To Return from a Long Way] (Tel Aviv, 1977), p. 89.

22. Smolar, "Jewish Life," p. 134. 23. Ibid., pp. 128-29. Smolar claimed that he and Zelig Akselrod from Minsk were the founders of

the paper. 24. Ibid. 25. "Bolshevik vigilance in art" read the title of a lead article in the Bialystoker Shtern, which was

a major role of the paper. See the Bialystoker Shtern, 10 February 1940. 26. Shtern [Star] (Soviet Yiddish daily published in Kiev), 18 September 1939. 27. Ibid., 30 September 1939. 28. Oktiaber, 6 October 1939. 29. Ibid., 19 February 1940. 30. Ibid., 10, 20 October, 3 November 1939. 31. A few weeks before the end of Soviet rule, on 7 May 1941, the Shtern reporter related that only

174 JEWISH SOCIAL STUDIES

a tiny percentage of the Yiddish orders were actually carried out. See Shtern, 7 May 1941. 32. Avraham Weiss, "Theater and Yiddish Literature in Eastern Galicia in the Years 1939-1941" (He-

brew), Bekhinot, 8-9 (1980), 125-26. 33. Zak, Knecht, pp. 79-80 (Grodno). Moshe Grossmann, In Farkisheftn Landfun Legendern Dzhugash-

vili [In the Enchanted Land of Legendary Dzhugashvili] (Paris, 1949), pp. 56-57 (Bialystok). 34. Weiss, "Theater and Yiddish Literature," pp. 125-26. 35. Ofboi [Upbuilding], no. 3 (Riga), January 1941. 36. The fate of the group was recorded by its survivors who succeeded in reaching the West. See, Zak,

Knecht, pp. 18-25, Grossmann, In Farkisheften Land, pp. 19 et passim. Sheine Broderzon, Main Laidns Veg mit Moshe Broderzon [My Sufferings with Moshe Broderzon] (Buenos Aires, 1960), pp. 19-29.

37. Tania Fuks, A vanderung iber Okupirte Gebitn [A Wandering in Occupied Regions] (Buenos Aires, 1948), p. 71. Grossmann, In Farkisheften Land, pp. 40-41.

38. Broderzon, Main Laidns, p. 25. 39. Khilat Lanin, Sefer Zikaron [The Kehillah of Lanin, a Memorial Book] (Tel Aviv, 1957), p. 48. 40. Dubno, p. 651. 41. Bransk: Sefer ha-Zikharon [Bransk: the Memorial Book] (New York, 1948), p. 249. 42. Fuks, A vanderung, p. 61. 43. Smolar, "Jewish Life," p. 133. Weiss, "Theater and Yiddish Literature," p. 114. 44. Ida Kaminski's testimony in Yad Vashem Archival Collection in Jerusalem. See Yad Vashem tes-

timonies, K-326-3736. 45. Broderzon, Main Laidns, p. 24. 46. Oktiaber, 15 January, 6 March, 1941. See also Weiss, "Theatre and Yiddish Literature," p. 117. 47. Fuks, A vanderung, p. 61. 48. Oktiaber, 15 March 1940, 15 January 1941. Bialystoker Shtern, 23 March 1941. See also Smolar,

"Jewish Life," p. 133. 49. David Lederman, an actor in interwar Poland and now in the Bialystok theater, recorded the life

and atmosphere of the Soviet stage. See his Fun iener zait forhang [From the Other Side of the Curtain] (Buenos Aires, 1960), pp. 101-17.

50. Shtern, 1 March 1940. 51. Bialystoker Shtern, 1 January. Weiss, "Theater and Yiddish Literature," p. 116. 52. Oktiaber, 23 May 1941. 53. Shtern, 22 October, 18 November, 1939. Oktiaber, 12, 20 January, 1940, 11 August 1940, and 31

May 1941.