Why Didn't They Just Leave?

During my time as a Holocaust educator, I have lost track of how many times a museum visitor or student, after learning of the horrors that Jews faced at the hands of the Nazis, has asked, “Why didn’t the Jews just leave?”

My answer, which is now well practiced, “Some did, others couldn’t, many wouldn’t” may seem as if I am being dismissive, flippant or even intentionally obtuse. But the reality is that there is no simple answer to this seemingly simple question.

While more than 130,000 Jews left Germany between 1933 and 1937, immigration and emigration policies in Germany and other countries blocked many from leaving. In the years leading up to the start of World War II another 120,000 would flee Germany. Some made it to Palestine, South Africa, and even Latin America but most only made their way to Eastern Europe, where they would soon find themselves again swept up under German control and the Nazi campaign of Lebensraum (Living Space).

By the end of 1941, Germany had stripped all citizenship rights from Jews still in the country and those who had already fled, leaving them with no valid papers – no passports. Now they had no nationality and almost no country would accept these refugees. At times a compassionate foreign diplomat might assist in issuing them an emergency passport and getting their visa approved but as the war raged on, embassies and consulates all over occupied Europe closed, leaving only those in Spain, Portugal, and sometimes France as even remote options.

The world’s doors were closing or had already closed.

Some Jews went into hiding. Some fought as partisans. Some were simply trapped and believed that their only viable option for survival was to comply with each new indignity, whether it was forced labor or being pushed into ghettos.

I have often tried to imagine, if I had been put in this unimaginable and untenable situation, what would I have done? Would I have left the only home that my family had known for generations? Would I walk away from the life that I had built for myself, for my family? Would I let someone else tell me that my country, which I had loved so deeply, was now no longer my own?

This mental exercise that I ask of myself and of our visitors came into stark focus for me during a recent conversation with one of TJMHC’s docents. She told me that a group of her friends had recently shocked her by sharing their “exit strategies.” These were not simply what-if fantasies but rather well thought out action plans for themselves and their families should living in the United States no longer be a safe and viable option.

I wish I could say that I was shocked to know that my fellow citizens were having these thoughts, that I was in utter disbelief at what I was hearing, but honestly, I wasn’t.

I felt dismayed and disheartened but not surprised. I realized that if I was honest with myself, the hypothetical that so many of us have pondered over the years has now become much more of an exercise in preparedness and much less a theoretical thought experiment.

You certainly won’t find me judging anyone who might be thinking through their own personal “what-if” scenarios. The past half decade has brought a deepened political vitriol to our country and has further made ideological divides seem like insurmountable barriers to progress. And, just over a year ago, we saw a group of rioters try to violently overthrow the fair and peaceful transfer of power, shaking the very foundation of our government.

Admittedly, after our conversation I even spent a little more time thinking about my own family and what our plan might be should we ever need one. Would we leave, should we see the sanctity of our marriage stripped away again? Where would we go, should my child be in direct and immediate danger for simply being who they are?

But then, I set those thoughts and questions aside because I still had work to do. The next day TJMHC was hosting What You Do Matters, a tour of the museum and conversation with a Holocaust Survivor for the most recent graduating class of the Tucson Police Academy. Teachers have already booked tours for their classes for the coming academic year. The finishing touches still need to be added to the new Contemporary Human Rights Exhibit, which will be unveiled in the coming month.

At Tucson Jewish Museum & Holocaust Center, we know that it is more important than ever that we never lose sight of the fact that this seemingly simple question, “Why didn’t they just leave?” has no simple answers. We see it everyday in the history that we teach and as we apply that complicated history to our mission to create a more just and peaceful future — and we hope that our work is making those “exit strategies” just an unnecessary thought exercise after all.

— Lori Shepherd