Oskar Schindler, the Nazi German businessman made posthumously famous by Steven Spielberg’s hit movie of 1993, was not the only person to rescue Jews during World War 2. Before Schindler achieved international fame via Hollywood, there was the case of Raoul Wallenberg, about whom I wrote earlier. Wallenberg, a Swedish diplomat and businessman in Budapest, issued travel documents for European Jews escaping Nazi persecution. Let’s not forget that he was also an intelligence agent.

Schindler and Wallenberg belong to an honorific group known as Righteous Among the Nations. The latter is the title bestowed, by the Israeli government, to a grouping of non-Jews who risked their lives and professional status to contribute to the rescue of European Jews during the Nazi era.

The criteria are set out by Yad Vashem, and the individuals bestowed with this honorific originate from different nations and backgrounds.

One of the names in this group is Japanese diplomat Chiune Sugihara (1900 – 1986). A Japanese diplomat, he was posted to Kaunas, temporarily the capital city of Lithuania, in 1939. As vice-consul, Sugihara not only fulfilled his consular duties, but reported to his superiors in Tokyo on Soviet and German troop movements. The Baltics, while nominally independent, were closely tied economically and militarily to Germany. The USSR occupied the Baltic states in 1940.

The Jewish community in the Baltics, already subjected to antisemitic attacks and persecution by the Baltic ultranationalist authorities, was looking for ways to flee. Sugihara, reportedly, issued transit visas to desperate Jewish families, even though this job was not within his official remit. He is credited with rescuing between 6000 and 7000 Jews.

But is this number verifiable? Is the Chiune Sugihara story, a narrative of courageous generosity in the face of lethal powers, accurate?

The Japanese government certainly thinks that Sugihara is a superhero. While Sugihara himself was inducted into the Righteous Among the Nations by Tel Aviv in 1985, since the year 2000, Tokyo has deliberately and aggressively cultivated a narrative of Sugihara the selfless, brave hero-diplomat risking life and limb to rescue Jewish refugees.

Sugihara was not just a consular official, he also worked as an intelligence agent for Tokyo. He cooperated with Polish intelligence, sending information about Polish, German, and Russian troop movements back to Tokyo. This part of his Kaunas activities is conveniently omitted from the hagiographic accounts of his life issued by Tokyo.

Tokyo has issued educational materials about him, celebrated his life story and exhorted schoolchildren to emulate his example. Parks and public places have been named after Sugihara. His putative hometown, Yaotsa, has a commemorative monument and museum for him. The town also boasts a Sugihara Remembrance Route. The Washington Post described him as the Japanese Schindler.

This picture of saintly Sugihara has come under fire from historians, researchers, as well as his surviving son, Nobuki. Nobuki has been doing his utmost to debunk the many myths and legends that have grown surrounding his late father’s role and reputation.

Certainly Sugihara issued travel documents for fleeing Jewish refugees in Lithuania. That took immense courage under pressure.

However, Sugihara’s actions were only one link in a network of sympathetic and brave people who risked their lives and professional status to help Jews fleeing persecution.

Meron Medzini, a professor emeritus at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Department of Asian Studies and world expert on the Sugihara story, said that while Sugihara issued thousands of visas, it is basically impossible to verify how many Jews used those visas, so the figure of 6000 or 7000 people rescued is difficult to substantiate.

One consul whose name had been airbrushed from the heroic Sugihara narrative is that of Dutchman Jan Zwartendijk. The latter, the Dutch consul in Kaunas, issued documentation for Jewish refugees, assigning Dutch-controlled Curaçao, off the coast of Venezuela. Soviet authorities issued the requisite permission for the refugees to travel, as long as they eventually left Soviet territory.

Jan Zwartendijk’s role has largely been overshadowed by the Sugihara superhero story. Why has Tokyo heavily promoted the heroic narrative of their compatriot? Imperial Japan’s World War 2 reputation is that of a predatory, ruthless and sadistic power, exploiting and murdering millions. The Japanese military’s conduct of massacres, rapes, and using ‘comfort women’ is well established.

Sugihara’s conduct as a brave, generous person, friend of the Jewish community helps to soften Japan’s wartime image. Similarly to the case of Raoul Wallenberg’s in the 1980s, the superhero narrative is built to cynically exploit the generosity of courageous individuals helping refugees to channel sympathy for geopolitical interests.

Wallenberg’s native Sweden, while officially neutral during World War 2, maintained and extended secretive commercial and economic ties to the Nazi regime. Swedish raw materials and products were exported to Germany, materials that directly fed the Nazi war machine. Having Wallenberg as a hero who rescued Jews helps to obfuscate the murky commercial ties between Stockholm and Berlin.

Certainly, the people who rescued Jewish refugees from Nazi persecution and mass murder should be respected and admired. The stories about non-Jewish Europeans extending a helping hand to fleeing Jews are still being uncovered. Emotionally manipulating their generosity for cynical objectives is an exercise we can do without.