Kristallnacht remains one of the darkest turning points in the history of the Holocaust – an event that shows how hate speech, systematic discrimination and society’s inaction can pave the way to mass violence. On the danger of normalising antisemitism, Bulgaria’s historical responsibility, the consequences of Hamas’s attack on Israel and the importance of Holocaust remembrance… Prof. Dr. Alexander Oscar, chairman of the Negev Organisation of Friends of Israel in Bulgaria, spoke to FAKTI.
- Professor Oscar, on the night of 9–10 November 1938, Kristallnacht began in Nazi Germany – a pogrom in which synagogues were destroyed, Jewish shops and homes were looted, and thousands of Jews were arrested. Why do you define this event as such an important turning point in the history of the Holocaust?
- Kristallnacht was one of the darkest moments in European history because it marked the transition from systematic discrimination and persecution of Jews to open, organised and state-tolerated mass violence.
From hate speech to physical attacks against Jews.
On the night of 9–10 November 1938, the Nazi regime organised pogroms against Jewish communities in Germany and Austria. Hundreds of synagogues were burned, thousands of Jewish homes and shops were destroyed, dozens of people were killed, and approximately 30,000 Jewish men were sent to concentration camps. But the most terrible thing was not only the destruction and the human casualties. The most terrible thing was the message that the Nazi state sent to its Jewish citizens: you no longer have rights, you have no protection, and you have no place in this society.
Kristallnacht did not mark the beginning of antisemitism in Germany. It was the result of years of deliberate propaganda, discriminatory legislation and the gradual dehumanisation of Jews.
That is precisely why I define it as a turning point. It shows how quickly a society that gave the world great philosophers, scientists, composers and writers can become a stage for organised barbarism. The Holocaust did not begin with the gas chambers. It began with words, with prejudice, with discrimination and with the silence of those who could have opposed it.
- What changed then – in the behaviour of the authorities, in society’s attitude and in Jews’ sense of their own security?
- Everything changed. Before Kristallnacht, Jews in Germany were already subjected to severe discrimination. The Nuremberg Laws of 1935 deprived them of basic civil rights. They were gradually pushed out of public, professional and economic life.
But after 9 November 1938, it became absolutely clear that the state not only had no intention of protecting them. The state itself organised and encouraged the violence against them.
The police and institutions whose primary task was to ensure citizens’ security became instruments of persecution.
For German Jews, this was the moment when the last illusions of security collapsed. Imagine what it means to live in the country where you were born, whose language you speak, whose culture you love and whose development you have contributed to, and suddenly realise that your neighbours can destroy your home with impunity, set fire to your synagogue or attack your family. We must not forget that among German Jews there were thousands of veterans of the First World War who had fought for Germany. Even that could not save them from persecution. Society’s reaction was particularly disturbing. There were people who helped their Jewish neighbours, but many remained indifferent, while others took part in the pogroms. One of the most important lessons of Kristallnacht is that evil does not necessarily need the support of the majority – sometimes it is enough for the majority to remain silent.
- You often say that Kristallnacht did not happen by itself, but was the result of systematically cultivated hatred. What are the warning signs that a society is heading in a similar direction?
- The first warning sign is the normalisation of hate speech. When insults against a particular ethnic or religious community begin to be perceived as something ordinary, when conspiracy theories become part of public debate, when political leaders allow themselves to demonise entire groups of people, society has already taken a dangerous step.
The second sign is dehumanisation, or, in other words, the process of depriving Jews of their human image – their dehumanisation.
Nazi propaganda did not begin with calls for mass extermination. It began with suggestions that Jews were responsible for the economic problems, political crises and all the misfortunes of German society.
The third sign is the inaction of institutions.
When hatred goes unpunished, it gradually turns into an acceptable form of public behaviour.
Finally, it is especially dangerous when society begins to divide people into “us” and “them”, into those who deserve rights and those who do not.
Today, social media make these processes even more dangerous. A lie, a manipulation or a conspiracy theory can reach millions of people within a matter of hours. History teaches us that hatred rarely begins with violence. But when violence begins, it is usually already too late to ask why we did not react sooner.
- In 2018, you warned that antisemitism was not dead and that populism and nationalism could move from verbal aggression to physical attacks. What do these processes look like in Bulgaria today?
- Unfortunately, my warnings from 2018 remain relevant. Bulgaria has an extremely important historical tradition of resistance to antisemitism. The rescue of nearly 48,000 Bulgarian Jews during the Second World War is a source of national pride.
But this history does not give us immunity against hatred.
In recent years, we have witnessed the alarming normalisation of antisemitic rhetoric, particularly on social media and in certain political circles. We see the revival of old conspiracy theories about Jewish influence over world politics, the economy and the media. We see the word “Jew” sometimes being used as an insult, while the Jewish origins of public figures are turned into a tool for political attacks. It is particularly troubling when such messages come from people who claim to represent Bulgarian citizens. As someone who has worked actively for the Jewish community in Bulgaria for more than three decades, I have also personally been the target of antisemitic attacks.
However, I want to emphasise something very important: not every form of nationalism is antisemitism, and not every criticism of Israel is an expression of hatred towards Jews. The danger arises when political rhetoric begins to construct an image of an internal enemy based on ethnic or religious identity.
I am convinced that the overwhelming majority of Bulgarian citizens do not share antisemitic views. That is precisely why it is so important for institutions, political leaders and civil society to respond decisively to every manifestation of hatred.
We must not allow antisemitism to become something normal, regardless of who it comes from or what political arguments are used to justify it.
- After Hamas’s terrorist attack against Israel on 7 October 2023 and the ensuing war in Gaza, public reactions around the world became particularly intense. How has this conflict affected Jewish communities in Europe and Bulgaria?
- 7 October 2023 changed forever the sense of security of Jews not only in Israel, but around the world. On that day, Hamas terrorists carried out a horrific attack against Israeli civilians. Around 1,200 people were killed and 251 were abducted as hostages. For Jewish communities around the world, this was not only a national tragedy, but also a deeply personal experience.
I myself have a strong emotional connection with Israel. I have spent a great deal of time in Kibbutz Nir Yitzhak, near the Gaza border, which was also attacked on 7 October.
But what followed was even more troubling.
Serious increases in antisemitic incidents were recorded in a number of European countries. Jewish schools, synagogues and cultural centres required increased security. Jews began to worry about whether they could openly wear symbols of their identity. The most paradoxical thing is that antisemitic incidents were observed immediately after the terrorist attack, before Israel began its large-scale military operation in Gaza. This shows that for certain circles, the problem is not a specific policy of the Israeli government, but the very existence of the Jewish state. Of course, the suffering of the Palestinian civilian population is also a huge human tragedy. Every innocent human life lost deserves sympathy, regardless of the person’s nationality or religion. But we cannot accept that Jews in Paris, London, Berlin or Sofia should bear responsibility for the actions of the Israeli government.
In Bulgaria, we are not seeing the scale of antisemitic incidents characteristic of some Western European countries, but this does not mean that we should be calm or indifferent. On the contrary. We must be particularly attentive to the way hatred spreads in the public sphere.
- How should we distinguish criticism of the actions of the Israeli government from antisemitism, and when does a political position turn into collective blame against Jews?
- The distinction is actually very clear, provided that we approach the matter in good faith. Israel is a democratic state with an active political debate. Israeli citizens criticise their governments every day, take part in protests and challenge political decisions. Criticism of the actions of the Israeli government, including its military operations in Gaza, is entirely legitimate. Questions concerning compliance with international law, the protection of civilians and political responsibility must be discussed openly.
Antisemitism begins where criticism of specific political decisions turns into an accusation against all Jews.
When it is claimed that Jews collectively control the world’s media, banks or governments, this is not political criticism. It is classic antisemitism. When Jewish schools and synagogues become targets because of Israel’s actions, this is not solidarity with the Palestinians. It is hatred of Jews. When Nazi symbols are used, when the killing of Jewish civilians is justified or terrorist attacks are glorified, the line has long since been crossed. At the same time, I believe we must be careful not to automatically define every harsh criticism of Israel as antisemitic. That would devalue the very concept and make the fight against genuine hatred more difficult.
My principle is simple: the policies of a state can be criticised. People’s right to live in security, dignity and freedom cannot be called into question because of their ethnic or religious identity.
- You have repeatedly raised the issue of the historical responsibility of the Bulgarian authorities during the Second World War, including the deportation of Jews from Aegean Thrace and Vardar Macedonia. Why is it so difficult for historical facts to be presented without myths, political uses and national self-justification?
- Because history often becomes a tool for building national self-esteem rather than a means of understanding the past. Bulgaria has reason to be proud of the rescue of nearly 48,000 Jews from the country’s pre-war borders. This was a remarkable historical act in which the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, members of parliament led by Dimitar Peshev, intellectuals, public figures and ordinary citizens played an important role.
But there is also another, tragic side to this history.
In March 1943, the Bulgarian authorities (the army and the police) took part in the arrest and deportation of 11,343 Jews from Aegean Thrace, Vardar Macedonia and Pirot, territories under Bulgarian administration during the war. These people were handed over to Nazi Germany and almost all of them were killed at the Treblinka extermination camp. This is a historical fact that we cannot and must not conceal. For me, there is no contradiction between gratitude to those who rescued Bulgaria’s Jews and acknowledging the responsibility of the Bulgarian authorities at the time for the deportations. On the contrary. Only when we accept both sides of history can we build an honest and dignified national memory. We cannot choose only those historical facts that make us feel proud and reject the others because they are inconvenient. This does not mean transferring the blame for the regime of that time onto today’s generations of Bulgarians.
We do not bear personal guilt for the crimes of previous generations. But we do bear the responsibility to know them, name them and prevent their repetition. I believe that the maturity of a society is measured not only by its ability to take pride in its heroes, but also by its courage to acknowledge the tragic pages of its own history.
- If Kristallnacht reminds us of the danger of gradually normalising hatred, what should we do today so that Holocaust remembrance does not remain merely an annual ceremony?
- This is perhaps the most important question. Because true remembrance is not measured by the number of wreaths laid, candles lit or speeches delivered. It is measured by our behaviour during the other 364 days of the year. Holocaust remembrance must be part of the education of younger generations. Children should know not only what happened in Auschwitz, Treblinka and the other extermination camps, but also how European societies allowed this to happen.
We must teach them to recognise propaganda, manipulation, conspiracy theories and hate speech.
This is precisely one of the main missions of the Negev Organisation of Friends of Israel in Bulgaria, which I have the honour of chairing.
We bring together people of different ethnic backgrounds, religious beliefs, professions and political views. Among us are Jews and non-Jews, Christians and members of other faiths, people with different positions in society.
We are united by the belief that friendship between Bulgaria and Israel must be based on shared democratic values, mutual respect and firm opposition to antisemitism and all forms of hatred.
On 9 November this year, Negev will organise a commemorative event marking the 88th anniversary of Kristallnacht. A special focus of the programme will be an original one-man performance dedicated to Anne Frank, presented by our young friend Mois Kapon from Plovdiv. We chose this particular form because I believe that history reaches human hearts most powerfully through individual stories. Anne Frank is not merely a symbol of the Holocaust. She was a girl who had dreams, hopes and a desire to live. A girl whose childhood and future were taken away solely because she was Jewish. And when a young person recreates her story today, it is proof that memory can be passed from one generation to the next. I want to end with something I deeply believe in. When we talk about the Holocaust, we often say the words “Never again”.
But these words must not be merely a slogan that we repeat at commemorative ceremonies.
They must be our daily moral commitment. Not to remain silent when someone is humiliated because of their origins. Not to remain indifferent when hatred becomes a political tool. Not to allow human dignity to be called into question. Because the most terrible lesson of Kristallnacht is not only what human beings are capable of when blinded by hatred. It is also what can happen when good people decide to remain indifferent.
Holocaust remembrance is not only a duty to the six million murdered Jews. It is a responsibility to our children and to the future of humanity.
And if we want the words “Never again” to have genuine meaning, we must defend them not only with words, but also with actions.
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Kristallnacht took place on the night of 9–10 November 1938 in Germany, after the Nazi regime used the assassination of German diplomat Ernst vom Rath by the Jewish teenager Herschel Grynszpan as a pretext for organised pogroms against the Jewish population. Jewish shops were looted and destroyed, while dozens of synagogues were set on fire. The pogrom was carried out on Adolf Hitler’s personal orders, with the organisational involvement of Joseph Goebbels and Heinrich Himmler, and was presented as a spontaneous expression of popular anger. Ninety-one people were killed and around 20,000 were sent to concentration camps. Approximately 280 synagogues and 815 Jewish shops were destroyed.