In the Netherlands, the country’s first National Holocaust museum opened in March this year. While there are museum’s dedicated to World War 2, and the plight of the Dutch under Nazi occupation, the new museum in Amsterdam is the nation’s first detailing the suffering of Netherlands’ Jewish community.
Seventy five percent of Holland’s prewar Jewish community (102 000 people) perished in the Holocaust, the highest proportion of any Western European nation.
In the country of Anne Frank, the plight of Dutch Jews has until recently been swept under the carpet. The question has been asked; why didn’t the non-Jewish Dutch people help the Jews? The Dutch prime minister in 2020, Mark Rutte, officially apologised for the failure of the Netherlands to assist the Jewish people. While there were individual efforts to rescue the Jewish community, the wartime Dutch authorities remained passive, and acquiesced in the Nazi persecution of the Jewish people.
It is interesting to note, in this connection, that the homeland of Anne Frank is struggling to educate its population today regarding the Holocaust. There is a disturbing lack of awareness among the younger generation of Dutch about the Holocaust and the deportations of Dutch Jews.
Did non-Jews help Jewish people find sanctuary? The most famous gentile to rescue Jews is Oskar Schindler, now internationally known because of Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster 1993 movie. Before Schindler became famous, there was another non-Jew who achieved the status of a cause célèbre – Raoul Wallenberg. Born in 1912 into a prosperous Swedish family, Wallenberg traveled to Budapest in July 1944 as part of the Swedish legation in Nazi-occupied Hungary.
Sweden was officially neutral during the war, but maintained business relations with both the Axis and Allied powers. Wallenberg, while not a professional diplomat, used his position to rescue thousands of Hungarian Jews from certain captivity and death. Issuing passports and travel documents to the besieged Jewish community, Wallenberg is hailed as one of the Righteous among the Nations.
The latter is a category created by Yad Vashem and the Israeli government to honour those non-Jews who went to extraordinary lengths to provide sanctuary for European Jews. Budapest was a nest of spies in 1944-45, with the Allied powers competing for influence once the Axis-aligned dictatorship should fall. The Soviet army was rapidly approaching Budapest, and the Allies were concerned about a Communist-dominated Hungary.
The Jews of Budapest faced a daily struggle to survive. Subjected to pogroms, their situation became even more perilous in the later stages of the war. The Hungarian leader, Admiral Miklos Horthy, had been secretly contacting the British and Americans to arrange a surrender. When the Nazi leadership got wind of this, they viewed it as treason to their cause. Organising a coup d’etat, Horthy was deposed and replaced by the fanatical racists of the Arrow Cross.
Wallenberg faced certain death should his activities as a refugee advocate be discovered. He was a member of the American-financed War Refugee Board (WRB), an institution created by American president Roosevelt to rescue Jews from Europe. Too little, too late in my opinion. The US and Canada had highly restrictive immigration laws at the time, and European Jews fleeing persecution were turned away.
The WRB, in cooperation with the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee and Refugee Aid (known as Joint), worked to save Budapest’s Jews. Wallenberg was part of this effort. So why did he become a cause célèbre in the 1980s and onwards?
In early 1945, Wallenberg was captured by Soviet counterintelligence, sent to the Eastern bloc, and never seen again. The exact circumstances of his death have remained a mystery ever since. The Soviet government stated that Wallenberg died of heart failure in July 1947. This explanation has never been fully accepted, especially by those whom Wallenberg rescued, and their descendants.
Awarded honorary citizenship by Australia, the US, Britain, Canada, Hungary and Israel, Wallenberg became a almost mythical figure – symbolising great personal courage and nonviolence in the face of unspeakable atrocities. From the 1980s, reports emerged that eyewitnesses spotted an ageing Wallenberg, still alive, in Soviet prisons.
From there, the campaign to internationalise his case ramped up – streets and public squares were named after him. Books were published and TV movies made, heroising Wallenberg as the moral hero of our times. The Cold War was in full swing, so a tale of sacrifice and courage brought down by Soviet ‘totalitarianism’ encapsulated by Wallenberg found a mass audience.
Interestingly, the CIA was helpful in promoting the Wallenberg case, bringing it into the public consciousness. His moral courage was exemplary – so we are told. There is one aspect of his case which only came to light decades after the publicity campaign died down – Wallenberg was a spy. He was an intelligence asset for the OSS – the predecessor of the American CIA.
His presence in Budapest was not motivated by pure altruism or overwhelming concern for the plight of the Jewish community. He was on an intelligence mission. His humanitarian work, while perfectly admirable, must be understood as part of a wider context of American (and Swedish) intelligence gathering. Budapest was in line to become a Communist-aligned state, and the Allies were doing their level best to prevent this postwar scenario.
Swedish military intelligence, during the war years, had a deliberate program of recruiting businesspeople to gather intelligence on the economic and military resources of European nations. Sweden and Hungary had established intelligence sharing networks for mutual benefit. This murky, yet practical side, of Wallenberg’s actions casts doubt on his status as the legendary Swedish Schindler.
The Swedish government, ever wary that Wallenberg’s role as a spy be discovered, did not sufficiently press Moscow for answers as to his ultimate fate. The Swedish authorities, in 2016, officially declared that Wallenberg had died in 1952, five years after the last credible information that he was alive. The statues of Wallenberg remain in place, reminding us of his heroism while keeping his secretive intelligence role hidden.
The angel was indeed a spy.
When discussing the rescue of European Jews in World War 2, let us remember that the Anglophone nations closed their doors to fleeing Jewish refugees. Denied sanctuary, they returned to their fate in Europe. The Wallenberg heroism story, while captivating, must not blind us to the fact that Jewish refugees were rejected en masse.