Eidintas, Alfonsas



Alfonsas Eidintas. Jews, Lithuanians and the Holocaust. Trans. Vijolė Arbas and Advardas Tuskenis. Vilnius: Versus Aureus, 2003. Trans. of Žydai, lietuviai ir holokaustas. 2002.

Alfonsas Eidintas, a historian, former head of the Institute of History department at the Lithuanian Academy of Science, and diplomat, is one of the foremost researchers of the Holocaust. He has served as the Lithuanian ambassador to the USA, Canada, Israel, Mexico, South Africa, Cyprus, Ethiopia, and Norway. He has written a number of books on Lithuanian political and diplomatic history, and currently (2011) is a Senior Researcher at the University of Vilnius’s International Relations Department.

Eidintas’s book, Jews, Lithuanians, and the Holocaust, is important background reading to the Holocaust in Lithuania. It is readily available in Lithuanian (Žydai, lietuviai ir holokaustas, 2002), but very difficult to find in English. Therefore, I have summarized it here.

Eidintas’s primary audience is Lithuanian, not necessarily Jewish. He argues that Lithuanians must face up to their country’s role in perpetrating the Holocaust, although he stresses that only a minority of Lithuanians were active collaborators. He points out that Lithuania is now a poorer country for the loss of its Jews (in mass murders and through emigration), and frank and open discussion between Lithuanians and Jews is essential.

Eidintas’s book contains a few specific references to Skuodas, which I have quoted in full. These passages appear on pp. 48, 101, 106, 161, 264-5, 280-81, and 355. The longer passages on 264-5 and 280-81 detail the murders of Skuodas’s Jewish women and children at Alka Hill, near Dimitravas.

At times, I add a few of my own observations; these appear in square brackets or footnotes.

Available academic reviews of this book:

Ginaite, Sara. “Book Review.” Canadian Slavonic Papers, 46.1-2 (2004): 259

Michalski, Thomas A. “Book Review.” Lituanus 49 (2003).

Senn, Alfred E. “Reflections on the Holocaust in Lithuania.” Lituanus 47 (2001).

Summary:

Section 1: “Our Žydeliai”: Lithuanians and Jews – Neighbours (pp. 24-164)

Lithuanians and Jews during the late 19th Century (24-40)

In the 19th century, during the time that Russia ruled Lithuania, a Lithuanian nationalist movement began to grow, aimed at forging a Lithuanian national consciousness in opposition to the imperial domination of Russian language, culture, and politics. The Russian Empire Government had established the “Jewish Pale of Settlement,” forcing many Jews out of central Russia and into more outlying regions, including Lithuania, and also regulating the Jewish community’s economic and educational activities. Forbidden to own land or work in certain professions, almost all Jews in Lithuania lived in towns and townships, working in crafts, production, and trade. Jews thus stood in sharp contrast with Lithuanians,[1] who were primarily a rural people, living in villages or farmsteads and working in agriculture.

As a result of the religious, social, and economic differences between the two groups, most Lithuanians did not understand Jews and tended to look down on them, distrusting and making fun of them. In particular, members and leaders of the Lithuanian nationalist movement, who usually originated from the peasantry, inherited generally negative attitudes towards Jews. However, according to Eidintas, these attitudes “were not necessarily against Jews per se, so much as nationalistic decisions” (30), for example nationalists’ enthusiastic approval of Lithuanian business enterprises and denigration of Jewish establishments. Lithuanians saw Jews as economic competitors, and this often increased suspicion and general negativity towards their Jewish neighbours. “The peasant felt that he was being robbed – by the Russian government in taxation, and by the Jewish merchant or trader at stores, markets, and inns” (37).

Eidintas points out, however, that the often negative attitudes towards Jews did not always translate into behaviour. For example, most Lithuanians continued to frequent Jewish businesses, even when there was a Lithuanian competitor, due to habit, long-standing acquaintance, or even friendship. Lithuanian attitudes towards Jews were mixed and often contradictory. In fact, the Lithuanian word for “Jew,” žydelis, a diminutive, could be used not only as an insult, but in a friendly, affectionate way, depending on the situation. Many Lithuanians acknowledged that Jews were good at trade and generally sober and industrious, and writers in the popular press sometimes held up their behaviour as a model for others to follow. And when Lithuanian-Jewish conflicts did arise due to social separation and misunderstanding, they were generally minor: namecalling, fistfights, or petty vandalism such as breaking windows. By and large, Jews and Lithuanians, despite the occasional squabble, coexisted relatively peacefully.

The Jew in Peasant Consciousness (40-47)

Generally speaking, Lithuanian peasants tolerated, but did not understand Jews, whom they considered alien and foreign, different in religion, dress, language, and appearance. (Of course, many Jews put up their own social barriers in order to define themselves as Jewish and avoid assimilation.) Furthermore, in some deep sense, Lithuanians did not consider Jews to be people, because it was thought that, like animals, they did not have souls.

Again, the picture is a complex one. Many traits of Jews – love of education, industriousness, group solidarity, and so on – were widely acknowledged and admired. But in general, concludes Eidintas, the main reason for Lithuanian antipathy towards Jews was economic: Lithuanians were “dependent on the Jewish trader, moneylender, and merchant. Dependency caused antipathy, and in certain cases, intolerance” (47).

Jews and Lithuanians at Townships (47-63)

Early in this section, Eidintas refers to a late-19th century description of Skuodas: “There were 40 Catholic farmers; the numbers of Jews were an uncountable many. Jews kept saloons and engaged in trade, whereas the Catholics had a brick church and three priests” (48). Eidintas then goes on to build a detailed picture of Jewish life and trade in the townships, and Lithuanian attitudes towards their Jewish neighbours, which, as we have seen, ranged from approval to fear and contempt. But generally speaking, “all in Lithuania lived relatively peaceful provincial lives without experiencing any major injustices. They scolded and swore at each other, but by the same, sold and traded with one another” (54). Football matches took place between Lithuanian and Jewish teams, and Jews provided hostelry services to Lithuanians coming into town for short stays, providing lodging, food, and supplies, often on a friendly, ongoing basis. When there were disagreements between Christians and Jews, the Christian would sometimes complain to the local rabbi, who would mediate the dispute.

Role of Jews in the Reinstatement of Lithuanian Independence (63-76)

In 1918, Lithuania achieved independence from Russia, with the help of Jewish volunteers who fought in the wars for independence, participated in the work of Lithuania’s National Council, and took part in the Paris Peace Conference after World War I. The Paris Declaration, signed on August 5, 1919, promised Lithuanian Jews rights in the areas of politics, citizenship, religion, education, and language. No other country in Europe recognized the interests of Jews to this extent. Unfortunately, these promises did not fully materialize, and many Jews became disillusioned.

At the same time, Jews in the townships began to face increasing competition from Lithuanians in business and trade, as the new government supported Christian Lithuanians in their efforts to establish cooperatives and other businesses. Eidintas points out, “It was natural for a rural nation to attempt … to equalize economic opportunities” (69), but this strategy created pressure for Jews, who were finding their traditional opportunities in trade and commerce narrowing. However, Jews continued to enjoy a great deal of success. Just prior to World War II, Jews still controlled a sizeable share of imports and exports, and 54% of small trading companies were Jewish-owned. Lithuanian Jewish professionals were also well represented, and, overall, Jews were better educated than their Christian neighbours.

At the same time as, and partly motivated by, the increasing nationalism of Lithuania, Zionism became increasingly important as a Jewish focus of nationalism. Having grown up with the Russian language and culture, many Jews were unable or unwilling to adapt to the Lithuanian language and culture after Lithuanian independence, and Zionism supplied an attractive alternative. Zionists were further encouraged by the success of Lithuanian and Polish struggles for independence. In this atmosphere, national Jewish schools, especially the Zionist-created Hebrew “Tarbut” [Culture] schools, were established and flourished, as did Zionist cultural youth groups like Hashomer Hatzair [The Young Guard].

As for attitudes of Christian Lithuanians towards Jews, there were no major changes from previous decades. There was some intolerance and acts of physical violence, but there were no racist organizations or organized attacks against Jews: no “obvious and tolerated anti-Semitism or curtailments of Jewish freedoms in Lithuania as there was in Germany, Hungary, Poland, and Romania” (76).

Lack of Tolerance (76-95)

Lithuanian nationalism aimed to reinstate the nationhood and statehood of Lithuania; but unfortunately, “formation of a nation, truly based on citizenship [i.e. equal rights for all Lithuanians, regardless of religion, language, culture, and so on] apparently was before its time” (77). Nationalist factions with various agendas and demands accelerated after independence. There was painting-over of Yiddish street signs. Jewish financiers opposed the introduction of the lita, the national currency. These, and other incidents, were picked up by the nationalistic press, which agitated against Jews. In the 1930s, right-wing nationalists increased in numbers and power, and anti-Semitic statements in the press grew stronger and more numerous. Physical attacks against Jews increased, usually instigated by younger and more poorly educated Lithuanians, often high-school students. However, such attacks were not legally sanctioned, and many participants in anti-Jewish violence were arrested and punished.

Eidintas argues that anti-Jewish harassment and attacks were not at all typical of daily life everywhere in Lithuania, but were rather the exceptions (92); at the same time, he recognizes that such events, while relatively uncommon, instilled well-grounded fear into Lithuanian Jewish communities. While government policies were not anti-Semitic, there were no institutions for preventing anti-Jewish attacks, and neither schools nor churches taught young people a spirit of tolerance for their Jewish neighbours. Thus some ordinary Christian Lithuanians, many young and/or ill-educated, were motivated to attack their Jewish neighbours, fuelled by long-standing religious intolerance, economic competition, nationalistic fervour, and lack of day-to-day familiarity with Jews.

Economic Discord (95-110)

In the 1930s, attempts by Lithuanian nationalists to “Lithuanianize” trade and finance brought hardships to many Jews, who found themselves being squeezed out of their former livelihoods. In the late 1930s, economic competition intensified to the point where Lithuanians were urged to boycott Jewish businesses. For example, in Skuodas, early in 1939, hand-written anti-Jewish flyers were circulated in a public high school and the open-air market, urging Lithuanians to avoid Jews, who were said to control trade, industry, and town life. While Jewish and Lithuanian businesspeople did at times work together and cooperate closely, anti-Jewish accusations increased in the press during the 1930s, primarily attacking Jewish businesspeople, though more general anti-Semitic statements also appeared. The Lithuanian government, however, sharply criticized these attacks and attempted to curtail anti-Jewish displays and prejudice generally.

Unfortunately, historic pressures worked to worsen the already tense situation. With the Nazi takeover of Klaipeda (Memel) in 1939, refugees flooded into the bordering regions of Lithuania. The price of food increased by up to 35%, and economic competition increased. The anti-Jewish mood intensified, and rumours of Jewish criminal activity broke out. For example, in August 1939, a fire broke out in the town of Gargždai, destroying over 150 buildings. In Kretinga and Skuodas, it was rumoured that Jews had set the fire and would do so again. Lithuanian security officers tried to quell the rumours, and the Jewish press appealed to Lithuanians for reason and mutual understanding, but to little effect.

Jews from Germany and Poland (110-122)

In the 1930s, both Polish and German anti-Semitism influenced Lithuanian politicians and public activists. Anti-Jewish laws and restrictions in Germany were known to, but not always approved by, Lithuanian intellectuals, at least one of whom (Prof. Mykolas Römeris, Folksblat June, 1935) warned that “those who are proclaiming this radical hatred of Jews and are trying to destroy them, are equally as ready to destroy the nation of Lithuania” (113).

Sympathetic attitudes towards Jews were also expressed in Lithuania. In 1937, Lithuanian officials issued visas to Jewish passengers travelling from Germany, successfully appealing Lithuanian regulations against the issuance of such visas. Lithuanians also contributed to the rescue of Jews from Nazi-occupied Poland in 1939, providing housing for some 12,000 Polish Jews, and allowing those who could not emigrate onwards to remain in the country.

Despite such attempts to lessen the plight of Jews, anti-Jewish sentiments, inflamed by the radically right-wing, pro-German element in Lithuania, intensified. Many Jews looked hopefully towards the Soviet Union, where they were (ostensibly) considered equal citizens, whereas some anti-Communist Lithuanian nationalists, considering themselves “Aryans,” hoped an understanding with Hitler could be reached. Serious conflict between the two groups was inevitable.

Association of Jews with Communists (122-33)

For various social, historic, and economic reasons, many Lithuanian Jews aligned themselves with the political left, some joining the Lithuanian Communist Party. Because the Communist Party was illegal in Lithuania (which had only 20 years previously achieved independence from Russia), its members were of concern to the Lithuanian police and security forces. Because most Communist Party members came from towns and townships, where most Jews resided, Jews became identified with communists among the police, security forces, and the public at large, who often “ceased to differentiate communist Jews from the majority of non-communist Jews in their documents and … minds” (124). This identification of all Jews with communists in the minds of Lithuanians was to have serious implications after the Soviet occupation of Lithuania in 1940.

Lithuanians and Jews during the First Year under the Soviets, 1940-41 (133-58)

Unlike their Christian neighbours, who remembered Russia’s previous occupation of Lithuania with resentment and hostility, many Jews welcomed the Soviet occupation of Lithuania in June 1940, seeing the Soviets as their saviours from the Nazis. Even those Jews who disliked the Soviets preferred the new regime to the Germans as the lesser of two evils.

After the Soviet occupation, membership in the Communist Party grew substantially. Most of those who joined were Jewish, and though they were in the minority of Party members, 36% overall (133), the fact that they had not previously taken a large role in administration made them visible. Many nationalistic Lithuanians, already predisposed against Jews, identified them with the Communist Party, though they “appeared not to see, and did not want to see those of their own countryfolk [i.e. Christian Lithuanians] who were collaborating with Soviets in 1940” (134), and also disregarding the majority of Jews who were not communists.

In the minds of most Lithuanians, encouraged by the propaganda mills of Nazi Germany, Jews in general quickly became identified with the Soviet oppressor. The embracing, or at least tolerance, of communism by many Jews infuriated nationalistic Lithuanians, some of whom began to express publicly their wish for the arrival of the Germans. Tensions and acts of physical violence between Jews and Lithuanians increased. Anti-Jewish demonstrations took place. In spite of the fact that the Jewish community was not homogeneous and only a minority of Jews sympathized with the communists, Jews were blamed, among other things, for “Sovietization, arrests of Lithuanians, destruction of the army, separation of the Catholic Church from the state … [and] betray[ing] the nation of Lithuania” (145).

“Jewish” Jews (158-163)

Eidintas points out that many religious Jews, Zionists, and those without socialist leanings did not approve of the communist sympathies of their compatriots. These Jews, however, were ignored by nationalistic Lithuanians, who saw – and denounced – only the attitudes and actions of pro-communist Jews. Nationalistic Lithuanians also did not notice that after the occupation, Soviet arrests were targeting Jewish leaders as well as Lithuanians, or that up to 7000 Jews, along with their Lithuanian neighbours, were deported to Siberia, among them Dovydas Mirke, a pharmacist from Skuodas. Soviets also destroyed the Jewish educational system, banning Hebrew-language schools, shutting down Jewish gymnasiums, revising the curriculum, and replacing traditional Jewish holidays with May Day, Lenin Day, and so forth. By 1941, only one Yiddish-language newspaper remained.

Notwithstanding the communist repression of Jews, however, the idea of the “Jew-Bolshevik” became entrenched, even though, says Eidintas, this concept “did not fit within a logical framework” (162), but rather served an emotional need for Lithuanians, who had lost their independent nation, accustomed social order, property, and security. Fuelled by their traditional fear and suspicion of Jews as the “other” and, more recently, by Nazi anti-Semitism, they blamed the Jews. According to Eidintas, some of that blame, illogical and wrong-headed as it is, remains “even up to present times” (163).

Neighborhood of Nazi Germany (164-73)

After the anti-Jewish Nuremberg Laws were passed in 1935, anti-Jewish activities increased in Lithuania, particularly in areas bordering Germany or largely populated by Germans. One incident of vandalism in Varniai, in which young hooligans smashed the windows of 45 homes and a number of stores, appeared to have been instigated by the Gestapo, an agent of whom was arrested at the site and detained. Criminal charges were filed against the 17 young offenders.

Lithuanian Jews understood that the new wave of anti-Semitism originated with Germany, though the Jewish newspapers often pointed out that the Lithuanian government and press were far too passive in their response, with only a few exceptions remaining silent in the face of the attacks.

The Lithuanian Activist Front (LAF), a coalition of representatives from various nationalistic organizations, formed in Berlin in November, 1940. This was a strong right-wing movement, incorporating the anti-Semitism of Nazi ideology, that called for the retraction of rights for Lithuanian Jews and advocated support for Germany: “LAF activists viewed Germans as allies and partners in the battle against the Soviets” (171).

In March, 1941, the LAF, identifying Jews as Bolshevik enemies of the state, ordered their activists in Lithuania to tell the Jews to leave Lithuania and to seize Jewish property. Underground groups, such as “Iron Wolf,” also adopted anti-Semitic ideas and terminology.

The prevailing anti-Soviet attitudes and the embracing of the “Jewish-Bolshevik conspiracy” myth in Lithuania quickly came to the attention of the Nazi command, which used them to justify to Lithuanians the mass annihilation of Jews in that country.

Section 2: “Germans Imposed the Shooting of Jews on Lithuanians”: The Holocaust in Lithuania (pp. 174-312)

Nazi Tactics for Annihilating Jews in Lithuania (174-82)

A few days after attacking the USSR on June 22, 1941, the German army overtook Lithuania.[2] Many Lithuanian Jews attempted to flee to Russia, but only about 6%, or 20,000 people, were able to do so (174).

The Nazi implementation of plans to annihilate Jews in the Baltic, including Lithuania, began with the conscription of local supporters for pogroms. Part of this strategy involved hiding the fact that the attacks were initiated by Nazis. The first mass shootings, ordered by SS-Brigadeführer Franz Walter Stahlecker and conducted by the Tilsit Operative Force, took place in late June near the border between Germany-occupied Memel (Klaipeda) and Lithuania, in the towns of Gargždai, Kretinga, and Palanga. The Tilsit Operative Force also instigated pogroms and mass killings in Kaunas, then Lithuania’s capital in early July, with the aid of local collaborators.

Murders at Lietūkis Garage (182-195)

Based on eyewitness accounts and documentation, this section analyzes the June 27th murders of Jews in the Lietūkis Garage in Kaunas: “From 17 to 50 Jews [were] killed … this deed was Nazi-inspired, but documentations are not clear, whether only Lithuanians did this, or along with Germans” (185).

Effect of the Lithuanian Anti-Soviet Uprising on the Situation for Jews

In June 1941, when Germany declared war on the USSR, the Lithuanian uprising against the Soviets began, organized by the Lithuanian Activist Front (LAF). Armed groups of Lithuanian partisans arrested communists and members of communist youth groups, both Lithuanian and Jewish, and participated in shoot-outs with Soviet Army soldiers and armed Soviet activists. Lithuanians in general believed that the Germans would liberate them from the hated Soviet oppressors, and enthusiastically welcomed the Germany army. Aside from LAF, other insurgent groups, “white armband wearers,” some established by Nazis or Nazi agents, quickly formed, fuelled by outrage against acts of terrorism and murder committed against Lithuanians by the Soviet regime. Many Lithuanians considered that these crimes had been committed by Jews in general. A myth sprang up that Jews “were destroying the country, killing and torturing” (199), a myth that was used to justify breaking into homes, killing the residents, and appropriating furniture and apartments (200).

“The greatest question,” however, according to Eidintas, “is one that is not readily answerable … that ‘Lithuanians were attacking Jews before the arrival of the Germans.’ That such could have been the case in some areas cannot be discounted” (202). The question is complicated by a number of factors. First, were Jews attacked simply because they were Jews, or because they were Soviet administrators or Party workers? That is, was the deed a criminal action or a political action? Second, who were the attackers: nationalists or criminals who associated with nationalists for their own purposes? While some killings were doubtless the result of anti-Semitism, during June and July 1941, both Lithuanian and Jewish communists were targets for arrest. Furthermore, arrested Jews who were shown not to be communists were sometimes released.

According to Eidintas, “It was Nazi groups, following the German Army, which brought in territorial cleansing of communists and Jews. They arranged disposal actions, and had directives for showing that repressions against Jews were at the dispositions of local inhabitants, and due to their impulsive acts of revenge” (209). This is not to say that the Lithuanian nationalists or ordinary Lithuanians were well-disposed towards Jews; on the contrary; anti-Semitic attitudes, fuelled by the “traditional” anti-Semitism discussed in earlier chapters, and strengthened by the “Jew-Bolshevik” myth, were common.

Provisional Government of Lithuania and Jews (214-231)

As soon as Germany attacked the Soviets, the LAF declared Lithuanian independence and formed a provisional government which was, according to Eidintas, loyal to Nazi Germany and dependent on German goodwill – in other words, a puppet government. The provisional government had no real power, but operated under the control of the German occupying forces, and was used by Nazis to enact its anti-Jewish policies: establishing and staffing concentration camps at Forts 7 and 9 in Kaunas, establishing a Jewish ghetto in that city, and passing other anti-Jewish legislation, such as confiscation of money and goods.

The provisional government ceased its activities on August 5, 1941, and the Nazis introduced their civil occupational administration. According to Eidintas, “Germans exploited the uprising, the political naivety of its leaders, and Lithuanian institutions … to implement German goals” (227).

Anti-Jewish Indoctrination

Denunciations of Jews followed the Soviet retreat from Lithuania in June, 1941. The press and some Church leaders were quick to identify Jews with Soviets, calling Jews parasites and blaming them for killing Lithuanians during the retreat. Demands to restrict Jews and Jewish activities flooded the press, and the July 4, 1941 issue of the newspaper New Lithuania carried an editorial openly urging Lithuania, “having enjoined the New Europe of Adolph Hitler,” to destroy the Jews. Under orders of the provisional government, Lithuanian police arrested, interrogated, and shot suspected communists and sympathizers. This terror forced the general population to become careful, and essentially passive, in order to preserve its own safety.

During the first days and weeks of the war, the general population had no access to information about what was going on, relying on rumour and hearsay. This was especially true in the outlying areas, villages, and small towns. In such places,[3] local administrators and armed activists took their orders, by writing or telephone, from Nazi governmental bodies “to cleanse the territory of communists and Jews” (236).

One belief that endangered Jews was that, at the beginning of the war, no one, Jews or Lithuanians, could envision that the “civilized” Germans could so ruthlessly organize the annihilation of the Jews. There was no reliable information, and the worst rumours were distrusted. Also, it was thought that only Jews with communist leanings were endangered, not the entire population, so most believed the German occupation would bring them, at worst, difficulty and even hardship, but that they would probably survive.

Non-Jewish Lithuanians were organized and encouraged to persecute Jews under the guise of “help[ing] the German administration to bring about order” (238). Many, believing there would be no negative consequences for themselves, and wanting to ingratiate themselves with their new government, behaved viciously and sadistically, and there are many examples of torture and public humiliation. The desire to enrich oneself by robbing arrested or murdered Jews, together with anti-Jewish propaganda in books, posters, and other publications, fuelled the fire.

Isolation of Jews (243-53)

Multiple restraints on Jews, in virtually every aspect of their lives, quickly followed the Nazi occupation. Such restraints had the effect of separating Jews from the rest of Lithuanian society – a move which was welcomed by some, though perhaps not all, Lithuanians. At the same time, Lithuanians were forbidden to have relations with, even talk to, Jews under threat of severe punishment: “This made the psychological situation for Jews and conditions for Lithuanians to extend help unbelievably difficult” (250). To add to the dire situation, during the summer and autumn of 1941, when most mass murders of Lithuanian Jews took place, the Lithuanian anti-Nazi underground was just starting to form, and was incapable of organizing any kind of assistance.

Isolation in ghettos and camps meant that Jews could not ask for or receive help from those outside. This isolation policy was carried out by the Lithuanian auxiliary police. At the end of June-beginning of July, 1941, police battalions (the TDA) were formed with the coordination of German political and military commanders. Two of these battalions came under the command of the German Einsatzkommandos used in the mass murders of Jews. The Lithuanian police was now firmly controlled by those “who had received lessons from the ‘university’ of National Socialism in Germany before the war” (250).

Killers – What Motivated Them

According to Eidintas, the number of Lithuanian killers was not large: perhaps about 200 who “belonged to the Security Police and SD [‘Special Police’], gave oaths, and loyally served the occupier of their country” (253).[4] They were despised by their fellow Lithuanians. That a relatively small force could carry out such destruction is explained by the fact that, in their battalions, they could travel quickly from one place of slaughter to another.

The Nazis also pressed Lithuanian police and auxiliary soldiers into murdering Jews. Eidintas classifies these killers into three groups:

The first group consists of Lithuanian policemen, former soldiers, and Šauliai, “Riflemen,” who were recruited into the auxiliary police. “Previously, they had been average, normal people” (254), some of whom probably believed that killing Jews was a patriotic action to save Lithuania from its enemies. They were, according to Eidintas, following the orders of the Nazi occupational civil administration (254).

This first group of killers was aided by a second group of volunteers, the “white armband wearers,” who were motivated by anti-Semitic ideology, believing that all Jews were enemies. They approved of Nazi politics and abetted the Nazis for that reason, earning the derogatory name of žydšaudys, “Jew shooter,” from their fellow Lithuanians. This group was called up for specific actions and issued weapons only for those occasions.

The third group, and the largest, consisted of former Lithuanian Army soldiers, who “did not intend to be killing Jews; they believed they were joining the military” (255). The Nazis, who had induced them to join the auxiliary police battalions, then sent them into actions against civilians. By following orders, these former soldiers became war criminals.

Other Lithuanians served the Nazis indirectly, by arresting and guarding Jews, burying their bodies, and so forth, and although they may not have personally committed any murders, many believe they must also be held accountable for the killings.

Various motives for direct participation in killings have been proposed. Some killers had recently been released from imprisonment and torture under the Soviets, and may have been trying to exact some kind of vengeance from “Bolshevik Jews.” Another group, having once supported the Soviets, turned their support to the Nazis, motivated either by guilt or by fear of retaliation. Others were motivated by the desire to enrich themselves by grabbing the property of their victims: clothing, furniture, livestock, and so on. According to Eidintas, this last factor is possibly the most important: “Nationalists saw huge opportunities for wealth via Nazi policies for annihilating Jews. … One of the most important factors for contributing to murders in the provinces was an opportunity for personal gain” (259).

Eidintas describes the situation at Dimitravas[5]: “At Dimitravas, everyone pounced on things, and tried to grab as much as possible, as soon as the victims had been buried. One shooter, Grikštas, told how he had taken calf shoes, high-heeled shoes, three scarves, two pairs of pants, two vests, a woman’s coat, a child’s shirts, two children’s coats, slips, and all sorts of other clothes. Other things that did not go to the killers were taken to Dimitravas” (264-5).

What kinds of people were murderers of Jews? Eidintas describes the typical killer as a poorly educated, criminal, lowbrow-type who could feel important only with a gun in his hand. However, not all fit this description. Some were well-educated; others were teachers or administrators; and others joined the auxiliary police as a means of earning a living.

Slaughters (272-312)

In this long section, citing evidence given at war crimes trials and other documents, Eidintas outlines the mass murder of Jews in a number of towns and cities in Lithuania. I will quote at length his section about Dimitravas, where the Jewish women and children of Skuodas were murdered:

“At Dimitravas, mass murders took place in August. A correctional camp had operated here during the independence years. Germans established a concentration camp at that locale in July to hold 500-700 Jews, brought in from Skuodas. At Skuodas, men were held in a grain elevator. They were the first in this area to be shot, along with communist Lithuanians. … Kretinga Area Police Chief Jakys visited the camp in mid-August. The leader of the local partisan unit, Stasys Vitkus, gathered 20 people to prepare trenches at Alka Hill, 4 km from the Dimitravas Camp. The elder of Rudaitis rural area, Vincas Navickas, brought in the diggers. One of the trench diggers, Kazys Kontrimas, testified that the invitation to come dig trenches, signed by the district elder, warned that refusal to arrive would result in a court case, charging insubordination to the German government. Vitkus asked for volunteers from amongst the trench diggers to join in the shootings, offering belongings of the victims as compensation. … Volunteers were provided with guns and bullets. At first, 300 women, children, and old people were told that they were being taken to bathe outside the camp. However, victims understood what was about to happen. The women screamed, “Take pity on the children; they are innocent.” One woman fell behind the rest on the road; she was shot on the spot. The victims were stripped of their clothing by the trenches. Then, these volunteers forcibly shoved them into their place of death. Executioners beat victims over the head with sticks, and then shot them. Many did not die right away, and were buried alive. The next morning, another 200 Jews were brought in. Executioners would stand 5 or 6 along the edge of the trench, and shot them down. Sounds of screams reverberated from inside the trenches. The 25-30 shooters ran short of bullets; thus, they did not succeed at actually killing many of the victims. Sometimes, people that had only suffered contusions, or in some cases, were merely stunned, fell into the trench. At the start, infants, unable to stand at the edge of trenches, were torn away from their mothers. Women were forced to stand in the holes atop corpses, and they were shot after the children.

“The Red Army Exhumation Commission examined the trenches, and reported its findings on December 17, 1944. Determined was that at Trench I, women had been shot, whereas children had been buried alive. Their bodies lay in disorder, tossed in any sort of way. In Trench II, all 149 people appeared to have been buried alive – no traces of bullets were found in their bodies, and their bones were not damaged. In Trench III, of 61 bodies, 52 had bullet traces, but only a few had been shot in the head. The rest had probably been buried alive. A total of 510 corpses were found in the trenches of which 31 were infants, 94 adolescents, and 385 women. There could have been as many as 289 tortured and buried alive of which 31 were small children” (280-81).

There are various estimates of how many Lithuanians participated in the Holocaust. Germans are rarely mentioned in the testimonies of surviving witnesses, leading to the impression that Lithuanian nationals were solely responsible. One historian estimated that perhaps 15,000 Lithuanians participated in the murders in one way or another (310). These local collaborators, according to Eidintas, were responsible for the deaths of 70,000-120,000 Jews.

Rescuers of the Condemned (312-335)

Many people, Jewish and non-Jewish, have claimed that Lithuanians, at best, were indifferent, that few helped or sympathized with the fate of their Jewish fellow citizens, and this has been an ongoing discussion to this day. Although undoubtedly many Lithuanians directly and indirectly were responsible for the murders, this was not true for the majority of citizens, people whom “Jews were no longer able to see during the time of murders and repressions” (312). Eidintas points out that more than a few Lithuanians helped whenever possible, but since they had to operate in secrecy, many of their virtuous actions were never recorded. Many, who might otherwise have wanted to help, witnessed terrible scenes of violence and were justifiably frightened for their own and their families’ safety. Others, who had been exposed to anti-Jewish propaganda, found it hard to overcome their own indoctrination and were, in addition, fearful of being labelled pro-communist. In smaller towns, police and the local population knew each other well, which further complicated the difficulties of providing Jews with secure hiding places, food, and other necessities. “Two moods predominated – compassion for Jews, and fear for one’s own fate” (314).

However, Eidintas continues, it was also true that, with few exceptions, most Lithuanians perceived the suffering of Jews as happening to “others,” not to close friends or neighbours: “this was only a tragedy for Jews” (314). Eidintas explains this passivity as due to two factors: indoctrination that Jews were enemies and the fact that efforts to help were forbidden by law. Deep hatred for Jews did not seem in evidence; there were no general expressions of satisfaction or joy at their destruction; the general mood seemed rather one of shock, sadness, and weeping. Finally, the time-scale of the killings, especially in the smaller towns, was often too short – in many places, just days – for local residents to have time to organize any sort of defence or rescue attempts.

Psychological pressures also acted against attempts to help: fear of punishment, as has already been mentioned, the indifference of the international community, and a “blame the victim” response which assumed that if Jews were being so horribly punished, they must somehow be to blame. In some cases, ignorance of what was in store for the Jews also hindered those who might have otherwise tried to help, as did a kind of religious fatalism, the idea that the Jews were a doomed people, their deaths were predetermined, and nothing could be done about it. “Saving Jews simply seemed impossible to many people” (318).

Some members of military and police groups refused to participate in mass murders or allowed arrested Jews to escape. Others were more active in rescuing Jews and hiding them. These people, when caught, were punished. Some helpers escaped with relatively light punishment, others were deported, and at least 50 in various parts of Lithuania were shot to death. By 2001, the Gaon Jewish Museum had registered 2,700 people of Lithuania who had found a way to rescue over 3,000 Jews. There were doubtless more acts of heroism which have not been remembered or recorded.

Most Lithuanians highly disapproved of those among them who aided the Nazis by killing Jews, calling them “Jew shooter,” “Jew beater,” “Jew strangler,” and “murderer.” They were sneered at by ordinary people and denounced in church. The public was horrified at the shootings, but was afraid to protest openly.

Section 3: “Festering Issue”: Difficult Dialogue Between Lithuanians and Jews

Jews and Lithuanians after 1944 (336-48)

After the war and the return of Soviet rule, rescued Jews began to bring their rescuers’ names to the attention of the Soviet authorities and to publicly thank them. At the same time, in the European DP camps, where people of various nationalities and ethnicities were housed together, tensions developed between many groups, including Jews and Lithuanians. Many North American newspapers began to label the Lithuanian DPs as Nazis or Nazi sympathisers, and while this may have been true for some, many of them had not been involved in persecuting Jews, and some were even rescuers.

In November, 1945, a meeting in Munich between Lithuanian government advisors and Jewish community leaders ended in an impasse, the Jewish leaders accusing all Lithuanians of complicity in the Holocaust, and the Lithuanians taking the position that “the Jewish people, for its part, had elements that had greatly harmed the Lithuanians” (340). After the meeting, the Lithuanian participants published an advisory paper, “The Lithuanian and the Jewish Question,” stating that “practically all Jews were guilty of supporting the Soviets” (342) and that no Lithuanian institutions were guilty of harming Jews, “failing to point out that some Lithuanian institutions had viewed the Nazis favorably” (342).

The mutual finger-pointing continued amongst Lithuanian émigrés throughout the years of the post-war Soviet occupation of Lithuania, both Lithuanian and Jewish parties accusing the other of war crimes and complicity. A little light was shed, however, by the younger generation of Lithuanians in the 1960s, who began to perceive the gaps in the older generation’s defensiveness and to publish articles dealing more openly with Lithuanian-Jewish relations.

Awareness in the Lithuanian SSR of the Jewish Tragedy (348-60)

Tumultuous and tragic events in postwar Lithuania drowned out memories of the Holocaust, as the Soviet government imposed various kinds of persecution, including incarcerations, deportations, and the collectivization of agriculture, on a rebellious population. A kind of guerrilla warfare, especially in the countryside, lasted until 1952, claiming the lives of 50,000 men, women, and children. A further 150,000 “insurgents” were deported. In the meantime, Jewish survivors began to make their way back to Lithuania, some taking up posts in the Soviet administration. Relationships between Jews and non-Jews in Soviet-occupied Lithuania were generally quite good.

In 1947, the Soviet Lithuanian authorities formed a Special State Commission for the Establishment and Investigation of the Crimes of the German Fascists and their Accomplices. This commission investigated Nazi crimes in Lithuania, digging up mass graves, collecting eyewitness accounts, and publishing its findings. However, the commission did not distinguish between Jewish and other victims, nor did it discuss Jews separately, confining its statements to “the murder of peaceful civilians” and stressing the pro-Soviet victims, who may or may not have been Jewish. Nor did the published findings indicate that there had been any Lithuanian collaboration with the Nazis.

This is not to say that Lithuanian war criminals all went unpunished. Between 1944 and 1980, 1,900 cases were opened for war crimes under the Nazi occupation. Charges included murder of Soviet citizens and collaboration. The usual penalty for murder was death; the death penalty was in force from 1944-47 and from 1950-69, during which 297 people were executed. In reports of the trials, journalists did not describe the murdered victims as Jewish, but as “Soviet citizens” or “Soviet patriots.” Most of these articles also served the propaganda function of condemning “bourgeois nationalists” overseas, especially in the US, for sheltering Lithuanian war criminals. In several cases, extraditions were demanded, but these were refused by the US government.

One example cited by Eidintas was the “press conference about the trial of Lionginas Jankauskas-Jankus in Klaipeda in 1964. Jankauskas-Jankus, a priest, had been the chaplain of the Skuodas secondary school; he was accused of terrorizing and murdering local residents. Albinas Maželis, Jurgis Embrasus, Kazys Vyšniauskas, Jonas Mockus, and Liudas Kniupis were also tried.[6] It was obvious why the press was reporting on the trial; Jankauskas-Jankus … was living ‘under the protection of American imperialists.’ His seat at the trial was empty; a sign with his name was placed on it” (355). Eidintas points out that some of the convicted parties may have been innocent, their trials serving a propagandistic agenda to discredit Lithuanian émigrés; another result of these press reports was to downplay the Holocaust and offer “only partial truths” (356).

Other forces worked to hinder Holocaust research in Soviet-occupied Lithuania, including the USSR’s campaign against Zionism, deep-rooted anti-Semitism, the inability of Lithuania, as an occupied country, to make its own investigations, the emigration of Lithuanian Jews to Israel and elsewhere, and active efforts by the KGB to foil Baltic freedom campaigns in the West by souring relations between American Lithuanians and Jews. One way to do this was claiming that all Lithuanians, including many émigrés, had been enthusiastic Nazi collaborators.

The Holocaust is Revealed in the West (360-377)

In the West, scholarly research into the Holocaust (and use of the word “Holocaust” itself) accelerated in the 1960s, following the Eichmann trial in 1961. However, “the atmosphere for a Jewish-Lithuanian dialogue was not favorable … when Lithuanian émigrés were practically being directly accused of defending war criminals” (366), and when some Lithuanian writers were hiding or downplaying evidence of the LAF and Provisional Government’s anti-Jewish resolutions and proclamations and denying any Lithuanian culpability in the Holocaust. It was not until the mid-1970s that Lithuanian writers began to raise the issue of the moral responsibility of Lithuanians for the murderers among them, arguing that Lithuanians must acknowledge their own culpability, reject their superstitious anti-Semitism, learn about the Jewish people and culture, and condemn their murders. Unfortunately, these writings were available only to readers in the West, and were unpalatable to the more conservative émigrés, mostly of the older generation. Another important obstacle to objective examination of Lithuania’s role in the Holocaust at this time was the lack of access to historical and archival material and well-merited distrust of Soviet propaganda and misinformation.

Oleisky and Olschwang (377-84)

In this section, Eidintas outlines the fundamental differences between the Jewish and Lithuanian émigrés’ views of the Holocaust and Lithuanian complicity. He concludes the section by indicating that despite the obstacles, including the unwillingness on both sides to admit the legitimate sufferings of the other, signs of increased cooperation and understanding gradually began to appear.

Reestablishment of the Independence of Lithuania (385-91)

In parallel with the rise of the Lithuanian national movement in 1988, the Jewish community’s cultural activity also revived with the establishment of the Association for the Support of Lithuanian Jewish Culture, a Jewish Museum and Cultural Centre, the State Jewish Museum in Vilnius, and a Jewish school and kindergarten. On May 8, 1990, the Supreme Council (parliament) of Lithuania “categorically condemned the Holocaust in the name of the Lithuanian nation and expressed regret that there had been ‘Lithuanian citizens’ among the killers” (386), guaranteeing that expressions of anti-Semitism would not be tolerated, and supporting the revival of Jewish educational, cultural, and other institutions. On January 8, 1992, the new Republic of Lithuania and the State of Israel established diplomatic relations.

However, the restored Lithuanian state was criticised in the American press, which accused the government of “rehabilitating,” or overturning convictions of people found guilty of war crimes under the Soviet administration (it is probable that some of these people had in fact been wrongfully convicted). Some Lithuanian politicians indeed had a poor understanding of the Holocaust, and so the acrimony continued.

In 1990, Lithuanian academics began working with the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research, headquartered in Vilnius before the war, and now based in New York. The first conference of Lithuanian and Jewish historians took place in New York in 1991. Academic collaboration between Lithuanians and American Jews has been ongoing. In October 1993, an international conference in Vilnius marked the 50th anniversary of the destruction of the Vilnius Ghetto. Interest in Jewish history and culture has continued to increase in Lithuania, with numerous seminars, conferences, and publications.

Towards a Dialogue (391-96)

The Lithuanian government has declared that it will not tolerate expressions of anti-Semitism or racism, and that there is no statute of limitations for war crimes. However, because of the passage of time, it is difficult to establish the guilt of war crimes suspects, and this has troubled many in the international Jewish community.

The Lithuanian government has also undertaken the renovation of Jewish cemeteries and the erection of monuments, clearly stating the identities of killers and victims, on murder sites.

Progress in some areas has been slow, however. According to Eidintas, “For Lithuanians, the Holocaust and the complicity of Lithuanians in the murder of Jews was an entirely new issue. … [f]ew Lithuanians comprehended the scale of the Holocaust in Lithuania and the considerable guilt of Lithuanian Nazi collaborators. Lithuanians were completely ignorant of Jewish culture, religion, and customs” (394). Despite such obstacles, however, collaboration grew, and in September, 1994, the first commemoration of Lithuania’s Day of Jewish Genocide was held in Washington, with representatives of many Jewish organizations attending.

Cases of Suspected Criminals and Derehabilitation (397-413)

This section outlines the cases of several suspected war criminals, including Aleksandras Lileikis, 91, who died in September 2000 before the conclusion of his trial in Vilnius. Some were immigrants to the US who were deported after 1979; several returned voluntarily to Lithuania. As of 2003, none of these suspected war criminals had been convicted, for various reasons, including the deaths of suspects and/or witnesses, leading Lithuania to acquire the “image of a country avoiding the prosecution of war criminals” (402).

Eidintas acknowledges that “returning to face the tragic events of the past is a painful process, since the crimes of Communism are still fresh and more painful” (402). Lithuanians who suffered deprivation, deportation, torture, and murder under the Soviets have not received apologies, compensation, commemoration, or indeed understanding; this makes it difficult for some to sympathize with Jewish victims of the Holocaust. Some anti-Jewish sentiment still exists, and the scarcity of eyewitnesses makes it difficult for the judicial system to prosecute suspected war criminals.

Between 1989 and 2000, the Lithuanian Supreme Court rehabilitated, or overturned the convictions of, 26,274 individuals who had been convicted of war crimes under the Soviet regime, but declined to restore the rights of 718 participants in genocide. Beginning in 1995, thousands of cases were reviewed, but few people were derehabilitated, which led to dissatisfaction among Western observers, who argued that Lithuania was eager to protect war criminals. Lithuania cooperated with Israeli authorities in rechecking the records of 168 persons, and concluded that three had probably been complicit in genocidal crimes, but there was sufficient evidence to derehabilitate only two. Eidintas claims that there was a lack of sincere cooperation and communication between Lithuanian and Israeli agencies. In 2001, Lithuanian authorities published a list of 76 persons whose earlier status of rehabilitation had been revoked.

The Restitution of Jewish Property (406-409)

Lithuanians were silent for a long time on the issue of stolen or confiscated Jewish belongings and homes. From 1992-1996, 26 buildings that had formerly belonged to Jewish religious organizations were returned to Lithuanian Jewish communities. In 1997, a law was passed allowing assets to be restored or compensation made to Lithuanian Jewish citizens living abroad. The matter of restitution is complex and ongoing.

Cultural Treasures (409-13)

During the Nazi occupation of Lithuania, thousands of Jewish books and documents were hidden in the Vilnius ghetto or in the homes of non-Jewish sympathizers. After liberation, the rescued items were handed over to the Vilnius Jewish Museum, which shipped many of the books to YIVO in New York. The Soviets closed the Vilnius Jewish Museum in 1948 and appropriated the collection, which is now again housed in Vilnius.

Notwithstanding the attempts of American Jewish associations to recover these assets, Lithuania considers the collection its property, and views the local Jewish Lithuanian community, which has been “provided all the prerequisites to take part actively in cultural and civic activity” (411) as its heirs. A number of rescued Torahs, held in the same collection as the recovered books, has been returned to Jewish communities in Lithuania and Israel. The issue of compensation is ongoing.

Holocaust Education (413-424)

The Lithuanian educational system has worked with representatives of the local and international Jewish communities to integrate Jewish history and the Holocaust into school and university curricula at all levels. The local Jewish community and the Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum work closely with the government and educators to hold classes and create exhibitions. Lithuanian cultural representatives, artists, and NGOs are actively building bridges between Jews and Lithuanians, sponsoring articles, books, and documentaries. Academic research has contributed to these initiatives. Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl has been translated into Lithuanian and taught in schools, and the US Holocaust Memorial Museum has prepared a book, including text and photo documentation, for use in Lithuanian schools. Seminars for teachers of Jewish history and the Holocaust are offered regularly.

In 1998, the Lithuanian government established a commission to investigate the persecution of Lithuanian citizens, Jewish and non-Jewish, during the Holocaust and the subsequent Soviet occupation. The commission established two working groups that would separately investigate Nazi and Soviet crimes, with participation by American and Israeli representatives.

The Lithuanian Catholic Church has also spoken out, admitting that some Lithuanians “lacked love for persecuted Jews and did not use all possible ways to defend them. … The Church’s memory is burdened by past memories of anti-Semitism, which irresponsible people who lack Christian love try to incite even in the present day” (422). The Church’s influence is vitally important in Lithuania, where 90% of the present-day inhabitants are Catholic, though it must be said that its stated position has been rejected by some Lithuanians, whose ingrained habits of fear and hatred are slow to change. Surveys, however, show that pro-democratic sentiments are common and increasing in Lithuanian society, though work still remains to be done.

The Position of Lithuanian Jews Living Abroad

Many American Jewish organizations are involved in educating the Lithuanian public on the Holocaust. Some of this education has involved pointing out to the Lithuanian government shortcomings in its practices and policies, which it has since attempted to rectify, though the process has not necessarily gone smoothly in all regards. The Association of Lithuanian Jews in Israel in particular has been harshly critical of the Lithuanian government and Lithuania in general.

Final Comments (431-437)

The Lithuanian understanding of the Holocaust and its consequences is still rather weak, partly for the reason that education has begun quite recently, and partly because of the emotional difficulty of facing up to and discussing these matters publicly. The complexity of the historical issues, their consequences for the present, and their various interpretations have also at times hindered open dialogue and understanding. “Various controversies concerning evaluation of the Holocaust are caused not by some kind of stubbornness or ill will,” claims Eidintas, “but by the difficulty of reconciling the Holocaust with the ideal images of the historical memories of the Lithuanian identity” (437).

Eidintas stresses the need for Lithuanians to continue to work closely with the local Jewish community, pointing out that the public’s growing interest in Jewish life and history has had the positive effect of advancing democracy in the country. Unfortunately, there are obstacles to dialogue, including stereotyping, the imposition of collective guilt, and the disinclination of all parties to admit guilt for real wrongs. Recommendations to foster open dialogue include providing budgets for various programs, including restitution; renovating memorials; condemning expressions of anti-Semitism; and allowing the courts, not public opinion, to try war criminals. Also, continuing scholarly research into Lithuanian history and the Holocaust needs to be done.

Conclusions (447-53)

Discussions in the Lithuanian press have been biased, often resorting to stereotypes commonly held by both Jews and Lithuanian, but it is important for today’s young people, especially, to know the truth about the Holocaust and to understand the losses of Jews and present-day Lithuanians (who have lost their Jewish community). Scholarly research on the Holocaust in Lithuania is essential.

Final summary of discussion

Lithuanian-Jewish relationships: Until the end of the 19th-century, relations were generally cordial, though both groups maintained separate religious and cultural lives, which presented barriers to full understanding. The rise of a Lithuanian business class brought some conflict due to competition with Jewish interests.

Lithuanian attitudes to Jews: Jews were seen primarily as Jews. They were considered different from Lithuanians, a visible and distinct group. Jews were seen as alien, especially by those in the rising nationalist movement, who saw them as abetting the occupying Russians.

Government policies of the interwar period: The declaration of Lithuanian as the official national language made life difficult for many Jews. The Jewish role in political life was rather minimal. Jewish schools, however, flourished.

Discrimination against Jews in the interwar period: Government support of Lithuanian-owned businesses and increased competition caused economic problems for Jews. Nationalism increased among both Lithuanians and Jews, which sometimes caused clashes. Many Jews emigrated. Others joined the illegal Communist Party and other left-wing groups.

Role of the Lithuanian government in curbing anti-Semitism: While the interwar government did not enact anti-Semitic policies, it did not act to curb expressions of intolerance in the schools, the Church, or among the population in general.

Integration and coexistence: Lithuanian nationalism and Zionist nationalism were not at odds. Many Jews began to acculturate, placing their children into Lithuanian schools.

Anti-Semitic expressions from the mid-1930s: Most Lithuanians did not hold a “racial” type of anti-Semitism until 1933, when they began to be influenced by Nazi propaganda. While clashes and misunderstandings occurred, they would not have led to genocide if not for the Nazi influence and loss of Lithuania’s independence after 1940.

Stereotype of the “Jewish” Soviet government in 1940: Nazi propaganda of the “Jew-Bolshevik” reinforced the visibility of Jewish youth in communist and socialist groups, and the Nazis exploited that stereotype, identifying all Jews with communists. “Before or during Aktionen, the Nazis lectured participants that the Jews were Bolsheviks … hence, the need to destroy them as enemies of Germany and Lithuania” (450).

The assertion that “Lithuanians attacked the Jews before the Germans arrived”: The Nazis exploited the anti-Soviet uprising in 1941, using the armed groups that had formed to attack Soviets to, in turn, attack Jews. Armed Lithuanian rebels, the special police forces, and the Lithuanian bureaucracy were all subordinated to the Nazi military-civilian administration, which ordered them into actions against Jews and punished them (Lithuanians) for insubordination. At least ½ of Lithuanian Jews died at the hands of Lithuanians.

The German imposition of the shooting of Jews: Nazis began the mass murders of Jews immediately after the beginning of the German-Soviet war, using Lithuanian nationalists and Lithuanian police units as their tools. Only a small number of trained, local collaborator-executioners were used for the actual killing, but large numbers of Lithuanian police and administrators were used to isolate, imprison, and guard Jews. The Lithuanian Provisional Government attempted to ingratiate itself with Germany, and basically followed orders.

Motivations of “Jew shooters”: The main motivation was personal gain. Other motives included viewing Jews as enemies, lack of punishment, and sentiments of nationalism and anti-Semitism. The Lithuanian government, the Church, and bystanders in general failed to speak out, leading to the impression among the victims and international observers that all Lithuanian institutions and individuals approved of the killings.

Post-war relationships between Jews and Lithuanians: Both sides became entrenched in mutual accusations. The fact that Lithuania was occupied by the Soviets, who had their own agenda of ignoring the Holocaust, made discussion and understanding impossible. After Lithuania regained its independence in 1990, discussions commenced, and despite some difficulties and misunderstandings on both parts, have proceeded in a positive direction.

Relations with the descendants of Lithuanian Jews: The Lithuanian government has consistently come out against anti-Semitism and actively promotes Holocaust education and remembrance, acknowledging centuries of Jewish contributions to Lithuania’s economy, health system, trade, and culture.

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[1] Following Eidintas’s usage, I will here use “Lithuanians” to contrast with “Jews,” though it must be kept in mind that both groups were equally citizens in the land in which they lived.

[2] [The Germans entered Skuodas on June 22. On June 28, the Soviet army attempted to retake the town, but was defeated the next day. The first mass shootings in Skuodas took place the night of June 29.]

[3] [Possibly including Skuodas?]

[4] Eidintas notes, however, that the total number of collaborators was much larger.

[5] [where the Jewish women and children of Skuodas were imprisoned and, in August 1941, murdered]

[6] [The trial was covered by the newspaper Tiesa, in a March 6, 1964 article by S. Laurinaitis and V. Miniotas.]

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