The Dilemma of Finnish Jews During World War II: Between Survival and Knowledge of the Holocaust

In the winter of 1942, the small Jewish community of Finland found itself in a paradoxical situation. While the Nazi war machine was ravaging Europe, exterminating millions of Jews in concentration camps, Finnish Jews were in a unique position. They fought alongside Finnish soldiers, often under the watchful eyes of German troops, but lived in a different reality, where the threats of deportation and genocide were mitigated by the Finnish government’s policies.

Rumors began to circulate among Jewish soldiers on the front lines about the atrocities committed against their brethren in Poland, Germany, and other parts of Europe. The news of the Holocaust did not take long to reach Finland, but its impact was softened by the relative safety that local homes and synagogues still provided. Although the Finnish press was censored, information about deportations, ghettoization, and mass murder reached the public. The growing awareness of the horror in Europe caused anguish among Finnish Jews, who found themselves in a unique scenario, fighting alongside German soldiers but with their safety assured by their country’s government.

During the war, 327 Finnish Jews served in the army, including rank-and-file soldiers, officers, and medical officers. In a symbolic episode, three of these soldiers were awarded the Iron Cross, the highest military distinction of Nazi Germany, but all refused the honor. Their refusal was not just an act of pride but also of silent resistance against the brutality they knew was happening elsewhere. This act reflected the growing awareness among Finnish Jews that something terrible was happening, even though the Finnish government had not implemented anti-Semitic policies.

Dina Poljakoff, a Jewish nurse, also refused the Iron Cross. Her decision was a powerful affirmation that even surrounded by those who promoted the destruction of her people, Finnish Jews would not betray their principles. At the same time, the Finnish government, led by Prime Minister Johann Wilhelm Rangell, remained steadfast in its decision not to deport any Jews. Even in the face of a visit from the feared SS leader Heinrich Himmler, the Finnish government refused to succumb to Nazi pressure. This stance saved nearly all of the 2,000 Jews who lived in Finland before the war.

However, the situation was different for about 200 Jewish refugees, mainly Austrians, living in Finland. In 1941, these refugees were relocated to the countryside, and in January 1942, the men were sent to labor camps. The shadow of deportation loomed over them, and in November 1942, under Gestapo pressure, eight of these refugees were sent to Germany. Seven of them were murdered in Auschwitz, leaving a deep mark on the Finnish Jewish community.

Despite this, the situation in Finland contrasted starkly with the reality in other parts of Europe. While fighting alongside the Germans on the Eastern Front, over 1,400 Finns served in the 5th SS Panzer Division Wiking. The irony of fighting alongside an enemy that, in other parts of Europe, was exterminating Jews was not lost on them. In 2019, the Finnish National Archives published a report based on recollections, diaries, and other documents suggesting that these soldiers likely participated in atrocities against Jews and other civilians.

The memories of those days are marked by a mix of pride and sorrow. Pride in having resisted genocide and maintained dignity even in the face of absolute evil. Sorrow for those who were lost, for those who never returned. The silence that enveloped the news of the Holocaust in Finland was broken by whispers, by letters sent from the front, by plays and poems written by Jewish authors like Jac Weinstein, who tried, in some way, to keep the memory of what was happening south of the Baltic alive.

As the war progressed, news of the massacres became impossible to ignore. Rumors that German ships were waiting off the coast to deport Finland’s Jews began to circulate, fueling fear. Although this threat never materialized on a large scale, the anxiety was constant. The war for Finnish Jews was a struggle for survival but also a war of information, where every fragment of news or rumor could mean the difference between life and death.

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