From Soviet’s #LetMyPeopleGo to #BringThemHome

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of interviewing Dr. Shaul Kelner at ANU – Museum of the Jewish People about his newest book, A Cold War Exodus: How American Activists Mobilized to Free Soviet Jews. The Mike and Sofia Segal Center for Jewish Culture event included a specialized tour followed by the fireside chat. Participants, many of them former refuseniks and activists covered in the book, took part in a special tour of the ANU Museum of the Jewish People to appreciate the history, journey, and story of the Soviet Jewry movement and people. 

The conversation with Professor Kelner was more than a book talk; it was a powerful reflection on how Jewish activism has shaped not only world events but also the Jewish people themselves. You can watch the full interview here:

The movement to free Soviet Jewry was remarkable not just because it succeeded in achieving its goal—securing the freedom of Jews trapped behind the Iron Curtain—but also because of the unprecedented ways in which Jews across the world mobilized. This activism transcended borders, languages, and generations. It was an era before the digital connectivity we take for granted today. We didn’t see the horrors up close on social media. We didn’t see images like those broadcast by Hamas, including live horrific footage and high-end tortuous propaganda. Yet, Jews found ways to create tangible emotional bonds with people they had never met and might never meet.

Bar and bat mitzvah twinning, leaving empty chairs at Passover seders, wearing symbolic jewelry, and participating in mass rallies—each action was that of identification, of saying, “You are not alone.” These creative and deeply personal forms of activism did more than bring awareness to the cause; they embedded within Jewish identity a model for solidarity and mobilization that continues to resonate today.

This legacy is alive in the movement to #BringThemHome. Once again, Jews around the world find themselves engaged in acts of public remembrance and advocacy—not only because they hope to pressure decision-makers to return the hostages taken on October 7, but we do intend to impress any and all measures of pressure! But also because we cannot imagine going about our daily lives without bearing witness to the suffering of those still in captivity.

Just as in the Soviet Jewry movement, our activism today is not only about them—it is also about us. We are not in the tunnels. We are not experiencing the direct horrors of captivity. We are not experiencing every type of physical and psychological torture that has gone to lengths beyond our imagination, but we refuse to be passive observers. We leave open seats at our tables, we post, we pray, and we protest because we know that to do nothing would be to sever ourselves from hostages who we know by name and from our history and from our collective Jewish soul.

This sense of responsibility, of belonging to a people whose fate is intertwined across geography and history, is the essence of Jewish peoplehood—the very theme of ANU – Museum of the Jewish People, where this conversation took place. Jewish history is not merely a series of reactions to external forces; time and again, we have shaped our destiny through our actions. The Soviet Jewry movement was one example. The fight to bring the hostages home is another.

The challenge before us is to act today and remember how we acted and cared tomorrow. How will we ensure that this moment of unity, of deep empathy and relentless mobilization leaves a lasting imprint on our Jewish identity? How do we ensure that it is not temporary? What will we take from this experience to guide us in the next crisis, the next moment of collective challenge?

We must continue to raise our voices. We must continue to see ourselves in the faces of those who are suffering. We must continue to embody the words Am Echad B’Lev Echad—one people, one heart—so that when history looks back at this moment, it will see a Jewish people who did not stand idly by.

But there is no time to wait. This chapter of Jewish history must close—not in tragedy, but in redemption. The hostages must come home, and they must come home now. Every moment that passes is a moment too long. We must do everything in our power to ensure that our solidarity translates into action, that our outcry reaches every corner of the world, and that our relentless pursuit of justice does not wane until every last captive is free. The day after the hostages come home, the work does not end—but first, they must come home.

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Disclaimer: The thoughts above reflect the personal opinions of the author.