In the cold, dark mist of the afternoon of Nov. 26, 1942, the
SS Donau sailed out of the Oslofjord with 532 unwilling passengers.
They were Jews, robbed of all their earthly possessions, kidnapped and imprisoned, on their way to the Polish port of Stettin, from which they would be transported to Auschwitz-Birkenau. All but nine were murdered there.
There were other such deadly transports before and after, but the Donau was the largest.
In the early fall of 1942, there were about 2,100 Jews in Norway. Of these, about 780 were killed in the Holocaust. Norway’s Nazi occupiers initiated the genocidal program as directed by the
Wannsee Conference, but it was the country’s
Quisling regime, aided by Norwegian ”security police,” that implemented it: Only after the Jews had been brought to the pier in Oslo were they delivered into German custody.
With a
few brave
exceptions, most Norwegians stood by as their Jewish neighbors disappeared.
Those Jews who had the means fled and found temporary homes, primarily in Sweden, but also in the United Kingdom and elsewhere. A disproportionately high number of Norwegian Jews volunteered for military and clandestine work for the Allied war effort, which they served with distinction.
Following the war, it took several years for Norwegian Jews to return to their country.
The much-heralded
White Buses program did not compile or present a list of Jewish Norwegians to Himmler or camp commanders, and those few Jews from Norway who walked out of the camps had to find their own way home.
Many of the stateless Jewish refugees who fled
to Sweden in the 1930s were refused re-entry into Norway after the war. Others were reluctant to attempt to reclaim stolen property or rebuild a community in shambles. Many families have yet to return, and probably never will.
Much has happened in Norway since World War II. The small kingdom has in full measure adopted social welfare reforms and financed them with abundant fossil fuel production in the North Sea.
Norway now consistently ranks in the global top five for GDP per capita, human development, political stability, democracy and other indexes.
But on the 70th anniversary of the departure of the Donau, it is time to ask: How far has Norway come in developing the ability to prevent such an act from happening again?
There is no lack of good intentions. The Holocaust is a mandatory subject in all primary schools, and political parties across the entire spectrum categorically denounce anti-Semitism.
But the Jewish community is struggling. There are about 800 members of the country’s two prominent Jewish congregations (in
Oslo and
Trondheim), and probably fewer than 2,000 self-identified Jews in Norway. Several hundred Norwegian Jews have made aliya, and others have emigrated to the United States and elsewhere.
The two synagogues and adjacent community centers are among the most heavily fortified buildings in Norway, and a large number of Jews have chosen to keep their Jewish background secret to all but their closest family, or to abandon it altogether.
Norway takes pride in promoting an open, inclusive democracy, but is clearly unable to nurture a vibrant, growing Jewish community.
Until recently, Norwegian politicians, journalists and academics were in denial about this. The Jewish community was small, individuals were by and large well-integrated and productive members of society, and it seemed inconceivable that a country with such high ideals could have an anti-Semitism problem.
But facts have become difficult to ignore.
A survey among primary school students in Oslo found that the system’s handful of Jewish students were by far the most bullied and maligned of any group. The term ”Jew” has been widely adopted as a derogatory term, and concerned teachers choose to stay anonymous in the media for fear of reprisals. School authorities tell Jewish students that wearing a Star of David constitutes a provocation.