When you come back from Europe in the summer of 1947, it is not the plentiful food nor the well-stocked stores nor the undamaged cities that startle you most. After a day or two, you begin to see a more subtle, more profound difference between America and Europe:

America has already come out of the war, has almost forgotten it. .Even the post-World War II mood is in back of us. .But in Western Europe the last war is still going on. .The troops and the bombs and the physical terror are gone. . . .There remain the shattered cities, the pervading daily dread of food and fuel shortages, the black marketeering that makes new-rich and new-poor, the instability and the uncertainty. People are still reeling, their heads a jumble of propaganda slogans from the days when it was a war of ideas, their hands nerveless for the dreary tasks of rebuilding a continent.

There is still plenty of fascism in Europe. Underneath the current conflict between Russia and the Western democracies, there is the festering threat of the Hitler ideas. An old world is gone, but nothing has yet taken its place. And the shredding of Europe’s psychological fabric has left Western Europeans, at least, with little faith and less hope.

During my visit, which covered most of Western Europe in the first half of this year, I watched for the vestiges of Nazism and anti-Semitism, and found too many for comfort. I found, in Germany, a terrifying nostalgia for the good old days of Nazi splendor, a glib repudiation of all the evils of the recent past, an impelling desire for still another attempt to dominate the world. In England, I saw a nation fighting for sheer survival, yet showing the first telltale symptoms of stagnation and disease, among them increasing anti-Semitism. All over Western Europe, among the Jews who survived the calamity, I found depression and bewilderment.

A way of life has virtually disappeared. And so far nothing has come to take its place, whether among Christians or among Jews, whether from America or from Russia. Coming out of Europe is like emerging from a system in which decent human beings revolve in senseless orbits without knowing where or why or how long.

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I

On one of Prague’s busiest streets there is a coffee house called the Slavia. It is considered the best in a city of good coffee houses. It spreads through the second floor of a large building, and from the street, in the late afternoon, you can see customers sitting at tables near the windows, sipping coffee and reading newspapers. The coffee is not very good these days, and the papers are thin because of the newsprint shortage, and the little cakes, which once were the delight of Europe, are synthetic and unsuccessful. But, for a crown or two, you can still be king of the coffee house, sit there all day if you like, scanning the latest papers from Prague and Paris and London, meeting your friends and talking of the difficult times, receiving your mail and your telephone calls. It is a pleasant life, if you have the time for it, and it is part of the tradition of this outpost of Western Europe.

When we were in Prague last spring, they told us the Slavia was on the verge of going out of business, along with most of the other coffee houses. Before the evil time of Munich, they explained, most of the steady patrons had been Jews with gemuetlich Germanic habits and easy discursive pleasures. Now they are gone, nearly all of them, and the coffee houses will follow soon.

Somehow one finds here, obliquely, a way of comprehending what the destruction of six million Jews during the war has really meant. The people are gone; and so, to a very great extent, is the way of life.

In all the lands where the Germans came, only the strong and the lucky among the Jews survived. There are perhaps a million-and-a-half Jews left in Europe, outside of Russia, and their center of gravity has shifted very largely to the Western countries. There are at least four times as many Jews in England as in Poland, three times as many in France, and almost twice as many in the German DP camps. Except for those in England, most have been touched directly by the persecutions of our time. They are resigned, frustrated, worried, suspicious, impatient.

Instead of the clustered intellectuals in the cities which had large Jewish populations, there are now the clusters at the headquarters of the Zionist organizations, and at the American or American-supported Jewish relief agencies. One of the side effects of the war, and of the tremendous philanthropic work maintained by American Jews, has been the development of a new and absolute dependence on charity. The European communal organizations, which were once self-reliant and ruggedly independent, now quiver in fear of antagonizing the all-powerful functionaries of the JDC and other relief agencies. Even when they can help themselves, they have fallen into the habit of seeking help from the outside. This growing pauperization, which may be familiar to American social workers from the time of the great depression, has laid a heavy hand of stagnation on Jews in many parts of Europe.

In a sense, this may well be a problem far more serious than the psychological aftereffects of the Hitler persecution. Like the mother who, mercifully, cannot recall the pains of childbirth, like the combat soldier for whom the memory of fear and violence finally dims and sometimes even assumes an aura of glamor, the Jewish survivor is growing away from his past. Perhaps this is the mind’s way of preserving sanity. Today the people who went through concentration camps, forced labor, death trains, and gas chambers, tell of their experiences, not as if they were reliving them, but as if they were repeating half-forgotten tales. Of course, there are the physical reminders: the neat little serial numbers tattooed on the forearm; the deep scars on the legs of the cook at the Feldafing DP camp, who for eighteen months had been shackled to his oven to cook for S.S. troops; the ghost of a man who visited the Office of the Jewish Adviser in Frankfort when I was there, one of the few who survived the German sterilization experiments. But for most of the Jews caught in countries through which the Nazis raged, the memory seems to be dying, and only its intangible aftereffects remain.

The worst of these, and the most damaging, is distrust—distrust of one’s self, distrust of other Jews, distrust most particularly of people who are not Jews. We visited a DP camp at Furth, not far from Nuremberg. One DP pulled me aside. “You think you are sending us a lot of help from America, don’t you?” he said. “Food, clothing, and other things. Well, it never gets here. The sailors steal it on the boats coming over the ocean. The workers steal it at the docks where they unload it. It is stolen from the trains. At the JDC offices they sell it on the black market. The camp committee here steal it for themselves when it gets to Furth. Tell them that in America. Tell them we are not getting any of the supplies you are sending.”

“I’ve heard about the pilfering, and I don’t doubt there is some dishonesty along the line,” I said. “But tell me this: Aren’t you getting more food and clothing than the Germans receive? Aren’t you getting supplementary supplies right here in this camp? Where does it come from?”

He looked at me in disgust, clearly convinced that I was thick in the conspiracy, and he walked away.

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II

I found another kind of distrust in Holland, among Dutch Jews who had been a part of the country for many generations. Before the war, there was virtually no anti-Semitism in the Netherlands. Nobody paid attention to Mussert, the local Nazi. It was a northern version of the Italian immunity to anti-Semitism. But when the Nazis came to Holland, the Jews were badly hit. There were few places to hide in this small flat country where cities are not quite big enough to lose one’s self in. Family after family was rounded up and ultimately carried away. A Netherlander needed more than the usual courage to hide a Jewish friend, at a time when such daring seemed futile and quixotic. Today, Dutch Jews will tell you of some who risked their lives to save people from the Gestapo. But more often they recall neighbors who stood by wordless when the Gestapo came. They tell you of the friends who looked the other way when they passed a Jew in the street; of the business men who welched on their associates; of the acquaintances who muttered in surprise when Jews returned after the war, “Oh, so you’re back . . .”; of the people of Amsterdam who, in the icy winter of 1944-45, stripped all the wood from empty homes in the Jewish section so that the supports were gone, and the houses caved in, until the neighborhood looked, as it still does, as though it had been bombed from the air.

The survivors admit that there are few vestiges of Nazi anti-Semitism in Holland today. But they feel a new, heightened Jew-consciousness which makes them uncomfortable. Unlike the Italian Jews who feel completely secure among their fellow-Italians, many Dutch Jews seem altogether distrustful of their neighbors.

They assured me that a Jew could live peacefully and pleasantly in Holland, on a par with Christians. For themselves, however, they wanted to leave. It was shocking to them that their friends no longer ranted against the Germans for their anti-Jewish atrocities, and that interest was focused instead on the war with the Indonesians which was being planned in open secrecy last winter. Why wouldn’t another European war bring a repetition of their recent experience? They would not risk it again in Holland—precisely because they had once felt themselves so much a part of the country.

I remember one evening in Amsterdam, when my wife and I, with a Dutch friend, came upon an old building which is now a museum because it was the place where Catholics had made a secret church in the attic during the religious wars. One of the custodians was a scholarly young priest, who showed us the relics and displays. As we were leaving, he asked us, “Have you visited the house of Rembrandt? It is across the canal, in the Jewish quarter. You will see the buildings that have fallen down if you walk through there. The Germans took all the Jewish families away, and two winters ago some of the people of the city broke into the empty houses and took the wood away, and they have fallen down. We suffered a great loss in our Jewish population,” he said almost nostalgically, “and now part of the life and flavor has gone out of our city.”

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It is estimated that, of approximately 30,000 Dutch Jews, at least two-thirds hope to emigrate from Holland. Most of the organizational leaders are aggressive, dogmatic Zionists. “There is nothing here for us any more,” they told me, and dismissed discussion.

As it happens, a survey was made recently in Holland to find out how many people want to leave the country. More than 20 per cent of the entire Dutch population said they did—some two millions out of a total of nine million inhabitants. This widespread desire to emigrate, which is duplicated in most other European countries, is thus by no means limited to Jews. It stems from a lack of faith in the future of the country. This had been a prosperous little land before the war, drawing upon the immense wealth of its East Indian colonies and maintaining a flourishing trade with the nearby German colossus. Now the Indonesians want to break away, and the Dutch have decided to gamble lives and money in a last desperate effort to retain their empire in the old-fashioned way. As for Germany, the Dutch realize that a revived German economy would mean prosperity for Holland, but that it would also mean a renewed threat of aggression. And so they want to leave. It is natural that Jews should feel doubly insecure.

On the other hand, it is hardly likely that two million Netherlanders will find it feasible to emigrate within the near future. Through the years, the pressure to get out may build up tremendously if economic conditions do not improve; or it may die down, if the country reestablishes itself firmly within a revived European economy. And speaking realistically, few of the 20,000 Dutch Jews are likely to get to Palestine soon, or to other countries. Yet many refuse to think in terms of the relatively easy steps required to reintegrate themselves into the Dutch community. The war forced them into a dream world of their own, and they have not yet dared emerge to face realities.

Obviously the Jews in Europe have been—and probably still are—by a good deal the least safe of all groups. It is also true that there are some areas in Europe where no reasonably sane Jew would freely choose to settle for good. On the other hand, the only such areas in Western Europe are Germany and perhaps Austria. In other countries their desire for escape stems at least as much from the continent-wide malaise as from fear of the past and the future.

For instance, in the case of Holland again, there is the matter of the ten thousand or more Jews who have indicated no intention of emigrating. Many of these actually do seek escape, but in a way different from the Zionists. Their flight is from the fact of having been born Jewish. They are often extreme assimilationists, some converting to other faiths, and others seeking merely to repudiate their Jewishness, or to ignore it.

In the middle, however, perhaps in relatively small numbers, one does find people who consider themselves Dutch subjects of the Jewish faith. All of these, the submerged third, tend to be ignored by Jewish observers. They are not vocal. Indeed, they deliberately refrain from being so. Theirs is a problem which demands immediate attention, shared as it is by hundreds of thousands of Jews in Western Europe who do not wish to leave, or who cannot do so for a long time because of international obstacles. The task is to help them to reintegrate, to reestablish themselves in an all too flimsy continental social and economic structure.

To date, we have given all too little thought to this problem.

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III

When you go from Frankfort to Berlin, your train travels for many hours through the Russian Zone. Coming and going, the train, for some reason, always stops at a small town called Genthin, in the forbidden territory. Each time my train stopped at Genthin, thirty or forty children were waiting for us. They stood on the small, sharp stones beside the roadbed as the cars slowed down. Blond and blue-eyed, most of them, ragged and barefoot, they looked like a rachitic brigade of Hitler’s hopefuls. They made up a sort of children’s breadline, waiting for the American passengers to throw candy out to them.

On my last trip from Berlin, we stopped at Genthin an especially long time. But, unlike the first stop, no one threw out the candy bars at once. For at least half an hour the children waited quietly, with a patient alertness. At last a passenger tossed a bar of chocolate to one boy, who caught it skillfully and walked a few feet back of the others. He put the candy untouched inside his shirt. Two or three other boys, all bigger than the lucky one, came over to see what he had gotten. He pulled the candy out of his shirt and showed it. They did not try to take it away from him; perhaps they had learned that this might kill the sympathy of the watching Americans. Instead, they went back to their trainside vigil, while the boy with the candy stood there, alone, holding the treasure under his shirt, and on his face an unconscious, unbroken smile.

The other children waited, unsmiling, except for one little girl who could not have been more than four years old and who was shyly flirting with a passenger in a subtle, sensitive and utterly disarming way. Still the shower of candy did not come. The time dragged inconsiderately, as though the camera of a European motion picture classic had rested on these children for that little extra moment beyond the expected in order to tear one’s heart. Finally, very slowly, the train began to move. The children moved down the tracks, keeping abreast of the passengers. Suddenly, someone threw out a shower of caramels. After that, candy rained from the train—chocolate, chewing gum, and all the cherished produce of the PX, caught on the fly by children leaping, swerving, tripping, running, keeping up with the train as it gathered speed, their skinny legs moving faster, their bare feet beating across the sharp stones. At last they were out of sight.

It was a trivial incident in the life of a conquered nation. Yet it was a frightening thing. For, in itself, it represented the paradox of present-day Germany.

The paradox is this: that, for Americans especially, the individual German is an attractive person. These children were charming little people; they were pathetic in their need for sweets, yet they did not whine or pester; they stood there quietly, with trust in their eyes. And the American heart went out to them.

As for the adults, they strike most Americans in Germany as decent, pleasant, rather kindly people, who respect their parents, love children, and lavish affection on pets; they are admirably clean and orderly, and have all the solid qualities favored by Ben Franklin.

For most Americans, it is increasingly difficult to associate such individuals with the crimes and bestiality of Germans as a group. This is the paradox of the individual German vs. the collective German. A child, a pretty girl, a wise old lady, is friendly to him, and the American cannot remember what he has been told about the German record. The contrast is too great to be believed.

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And yet the contrast is there. An official survey of a cross-section of the eighteen million Germans in the American Zone, made last winter, revealed that 61 per cent of the Germans are deeply imbued with anti-Semitism. Only 2 per cent of the Germans can be described as positively opposing race hatred. This was the third such survey in the American Zone since the occupation began. Each time the figures were worse. This increased expression of anti-Jewish attitudes reveals, not an increased anti-Semitism, but a greater willingness to tell the truth when questions are asked—in other words, a greater amount of German self-confidence. Meanwhile, other surveys have shown that the majority of Germans feel that National Socialism was a good idea badly carried out, which simply means they are sorry Germany lost the war. Most Germans are also militaristic, and contemptuous of democratic ideas and practices. They refuse, by and large, to accept any responsibility for Nazi atrocities against Jews or anyone else, and many even doubt that such atrocities really occurred.

The American program of democratic reeducation has, on the record, failed completely (and I suspect surveys in the other three Zones would expose equal failures). Perhaps the program could not possibly have succeeded in two years, and perhaps—with our democratic refusal to use Nazi propaganda methods—it cannot succeed for generations. But the American occupation is not likely to last for generations. We are in Germany today not because of the Germans, but because of the Russians. If our fear of the Russian menace were to subside, we would probably be out of Germany in six months—whether or not the Germans were still Nazis. The basic American policy today is to turn over to the Germans as much responsibility as possible as rapidly as possible. Already many of the normal functions of government have been turned back, and every day more power is restored. A German policeman now has the authority to arrest an American soldier for cause in conquered Germany. The policy of restoring power to Germans is all the more dangerous because it is a natural tendency of the military mind to favor arch-conservatives—who, after de-Nazification, are the closest to National Socialism by inclination and philosophy.

Nor is the alternative as easy as it may seem to liberals in the United States. We looked for German democrats in the American Zone, and we found some—but they had to be pointed out to us by people who had been around for a long time. They are very few, and some of them are not real democrats. We talked, for example, to several of the top leaders of the Social Democratic party. We found a reflection of the extreme nationalism preached by Herr Schumacher in the British Zone. We found a disinclination to worry about such minor matters as intense anti-Semitism, and an unwillingness to assume that Germans who voted for Social Democratic candidates might need some further education in democracy. We even found, among Social Democratic leaders, a tendency to explain away German anti-Semitism as natural and in some ways justified. On the other hand, we talked to writers and professors (intellectuals all) who were brilliant, courageous, anti-Nazi and truly democratic—but quite helpless. On the one hand, they receive little support from the Americans; on the other, if they did receive such support they would be accused of “collaboration” by other Germans.

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It is a frightening experience to visit Germany with your eyes and ears open. You come away with the conviction that the Germans are, in the overwhelming majority, members of an unspoken understanding to take advantage of the East-West split; to bide their time and seize on each opportunity to make further headway; to rebuild their country’s economy, if possible with naive American help; and then, when the chance comes, to make another attempt to dominate the world, avoiding the mistakes which resulted in failure last time.

It is argued by both Germans and Americans that hungry people cannot be good democrats; that they are naturally inclined to look back yearningly to the good days under Hitler; that they are inevitably bitter against the conquerors. True, most Germans are near starvation now. But German farmers—in Bavaria, for example—are better off than they have ever been. They have enough to eat. Their homes are usually intact. They have many luxuries, for they are the kings of the black market. Yet the surveys reveal that these people are, if anything, even more Nazi-minded than the hungry Germans in the cities.

If only by their instinct for self-preservation, the Jewish DP’s in Germany are very much aware of what is happening. They have no scientific surveys, no detailed intelligence reports, not even a dependable press; but they do have the recollection of the past, and an awareness of the present, which suffice to reassure them that the only sensible objective is to get out of Germany as quickly as possible. Occasionally, there have been incidents between them and Germans—and even between DP’s and American GI’s egged on by German girls. Through a DP grapevine news of these incidents travels fast, usually exaggerated in the telling, both because of the unnatural atmosphere of the camps and because of a deliberate policy on the part of Jewish political extremists who delight in proving that Jews can trust no one but themselves.

The camps themselves are uncomfortable places. Physically, the basic needs of DP’s are being met—there is at least the minimum level of food and clothing and shelter. A few camps are not especially well cared for, but many are models of cleanliness and sanitation, considering the circumstances. But the most striking contrast between Jewish DP camps and those of Poles and Baits is in the atmosphere of impermanence in the Jewish camps. Here you see no neat little gardens, no green lawns and flowers, no attempts at community decorations and small luxuries to make life easier. In the center of each Jewish camp, there is only the stark little memorial to the six millions who died, and nothing else. Partly, this is because the Jewish DP’s are mostly from the cities, and have never had the pleasant habit of tending a piece of land of their own. But the real reason lies elsewhere: in the burning desire to get out, and to shut out any implication that they may have to remain where they are for any serious length of time.

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IV

It is a long way, in more than miles, from Germany to England. The British have a system of political democracy which, in spite of such archaic curiosities as the monarchy and the House of Lords and the quaint costumed ceremonials, is more efficient and realistic than our own. They have embarked on an experiment in social democracy, under the Labor Government, far more courageous than any we have known. Only in what might be called personal democracy—the attitude of the average man toward himself and his place in the scheme of things—do we really surpass the British.

The British are a stable people, addicted to tradition, and yet with a genuine human yearning for fair play. It would be hard to think of any other group of forty million human beings going through what the British went through last winter—with the intense cold, the fuel crisis, the monotonous food, the knowledge that all sorts of good things were being manufactured in Britain only to be shipped abroad for precious dollars, the fear of being reduced in the eyes of the world to a third-rate power—and coming out with so much good humor and self-assurance.

At the same time there are cracks in the foundation. Most British Jews to whom I talked in London were convinced that anti-Semitism was rising. They generally attributed this to the after-effects of Nazi propaganda since 1933, and to the Palestine crisis. No surveys have been made of British attitudes on anti-Semitism, but the little unscientific signs are there—the remarks in public places, the hesitancy of public figures to take a forthright stand on issues involving Jews, the hints in some of the newspapers.

Undoubtedly, Nazi propaganda has left its mark on Britain. Germany was very near home, and Dr. Goebbels’ people could be heard clearly. Before the war there were many prominent Britons, associated with the Cliveden Set and “The Link,” who were so bent on reaching an understanding with Germany that they tended to overlook or even condone the anti-Jewish outrages. So, among some Britons, anti-Semitism achieved some respectability.

The impact of the Palestine situation is more immediate. Whatever other people may think about the propriety of Britain’s presence in Palestine, the fact is that terrorist activity has resulted in the death of British soldiers as well as of civilians totally unconnected with political issues. Inevitably, the British public tends to become angry against Jews in Britain, whom it associates with the terrorists. Since the majority of British Jews are Zionists, this is not too difficult a transfer for other Britons to make. And it was probably true that a good many British Jews did have, for a time, some appreciation of the motives of the terrorists. (In more recent months, however, I have the impression that the attitude of British Jews has itself changed, and that there is a good deal of outright resentment against the brutality and stupidity of terrorist tactics.)

At the same time, we know it is not unusual, in British history, for troubles in the Empire to have repercussions at home. The British are rather used to that. And, quite possibly, they will forget their resentment after the crisis in Palestine is settled one way or another, as some day it must.

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But there are at least two further causes for the present British attitude. One of them is the very pattern of Jewish life in England. Despite the crosscurrents of political controversy, the organizational structure to which British Jews are committed is far more centralized than the one we have in America. The Board of Deputies represents most, though not all, Jewish societies and congregations. It has a certain official status in its relationship to the Government. There is the institution of the Chief Rabbi. There is, on the whole, a more solid Jewish community consciousness than could possibly exist in the United States in any field outside of philanthropy; as a group they seem to have a greater feeling of apartness. Remember, the Readings and the Montefiores and the other familiar old names are few in number. Actually the large majority of Jews in Britain are relative newcomers. They are still first- and second-generation, and they consider themselves outsiders. With the second generation, they may have lost their Jewish accents; and because England is a more stable country than the United States, the process of Jewish integration into the community may not have the rough edges which are familiar to us at home. However, because England is more homogeneous, the process is a good deal slower than in America.

I was in London when the scrolls at the Dollis Hill Synagogue were burned. The incident took place right after a British war hero had been flogged by terrorists in Palestine. Vandals entered the London synagogue, burned the scrolls, and scrawled on the wall: “You flog, we burn.” A very agitated British Jew told me the next day, “Well, after all, we asked for it.” No group to which this man belonged could, by any stretch of imagination, be considered remotely responsible for what the Irgun did in Palestine. Yet he accepted a group responsibility inconceivable, I think, to most American Jews, and certainly not supported by facts. It is a sign of apartness, and it may have a subtle bearing on the present British attitude toward Jews.

Less subtle, surely, is the effect of economic conditions in Britain today. Life is not very pleasant there, what with coal shortages, electricity cuts, monotonous food, queues, ration books, and restrictions on luxuries, from tobacco to foreign travel. In a time of trouble, people look for scapegoats. During the war, they had Hitler. Now the war is over, and in some ways conditions are even worse; and the Jews furnish an easy scapegoat.

Indeed, the surprising thing is not that there is some anti-Semitism in England, but that there is so little. In overt forms, it is very slight: a few street-speakers, a few vandals, a few organizations. The newspapers have shown a very great moderation in reporting events that could easily have lent themselves to either subtle or obvious incitement to hatred. The discriminations, in their more obvious forms, are very few. And the basic common sense of the British public has not been seriously breached.

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V

Europe is in chaos, still not finished with World War II. It is floundering and thrashing about in efforts to save itself. The British, in their own way, are trying to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. The Czechs, with an even greater dose of socialism, but with a real devotion to democracy, are trying to do the same, burdened by the added handicap of Russia’s proximity. The Swedes have enjoyed luxurious prosperity up to now, but even they are beginning to realize that no nation can isolate itself from the world’s troubles for long; and now they are worried about impending inflation and fuel shortages this winter. The Belgians, too, have achieved a measure of economic stability, but no one is sure that it will last. The French are struggling through a complex, disorganized period of political and economic jitters. The Italians are even worse off.

As far as the Jewish prospect is concerned, these things at least seem to be clear, out of the chaos:

First: Apart from Germany and Austria, there is no country west of the line of Russian domination in which anti-Semitism has reached alarming proportions—or where it is a major political factor. There are many reasons for this. One is that the traditional concept of democracy and liberty is still strong. Another is that too many people still associate anti-Semitism with the hated Nazis. Still another is that the war itself destroyed the myth that Jews are a powerful and sinister group manipulating world affairs to their own nefarious ends.

Second: Germany, the very pivot of Europe, is still poisoned by Nazism. Seventy million intelligent, industrious, disciplined human beings might still mould themselves into a powerful machine to achieve ambitions which make sense to them. These ambitions are still a threat, not merely to a few million Jews, but to the whole world. So far, despite the Allied victory, there is no real and lasting assurance that the Germans have sloughed off the mentality and the aspirations that could some day start a new world war.

Third: Whether or not there is a settlement in Palestine to the satisfaction of the Zionists, whether or not the Stratton Bill is passed by the next Congress, a very large number of Jews are going to remain in Western Europe for good. Their physical safety as Jews, and their economic security as Europeans, will depend upon the physical safety and economic security of Europe as a whole. Only by the reorganization of Europe out of chaos, along the lines of political democracy and economic progress, can they and all their fellow-Europeans hope for survival and happiness. As Jews, we have a special interest in furthering such reorganization.

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