In 1970, 22-year-old Yosef Mendelevich and a number of other young Russian Jews conceived a daring plot. Their goal: hijack a Soviet plane at a Leningrad airport and fly it to Sweden. From there, they would make their way to freedom in Israel.
But things did not work out as planned. The KGB had gotten wind of the plot and the group was swarmed by soldiers as they approached the aircraft. Mendelevich and his co-conspirators were arrested. That detention marked the start of Mendelevich’s long struggle as a Prisoner of Zion. He would spend more than a decade of his life condemned to the horror of Soviet prison camps.
Mendelevich’s conflict with the Soviet authorities – spiritual as well as physical – began much earlier than his failed hijack attempt. As an eleven year old he had witnessed his father’s arrest on trumped-up charges. While the family waited for word of his fate, Mendelevich felt the need to do something. He chose to pray, despite the godless values of his staunchly communist home.
Praying left him with a strange feeling he could not explain, but the memory remained with him. It grew through his teen years and became stronger still when he was sentenced. By then, he had already applied and been denied a permit to make aliyah and had been involved in several underground student Zionist movements.
During his incarceration he surreptitiously taught Hebrew and Torah to interested inmates. He was tried for conducting religious practices, received an additional three years, and was transferred to the infamous Vladimir Central Prison, northwest of Moscow. When officials there confiscated his Jewish books, Mendelevich decided to go on a hunger strike, which would last 56 days. When they could not break his spirit, they put him in a punishment cell. By then, international pressure, particularly from the United States, had begun to have some effect. He was released in 1981 and finally realized his dream of living in Israel.
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In the late 1960s, a small group of unaffiliated Russian Jews presented a seemingly insignificant challenge to the mighty Communist regime. What began as a localized quest for spiritual and political liberty spread quickly. Over the next decade, it would play a critical role in achieving freedom for longsuffering Soviet Jews as well as countless others who found themselves trapped behind the Iron Curtain.
Following the Six-Day War of June 1967, many previously dormant souls experienced a spiritual awakening. Russian Jews in increasing numbers longed to learn more about their heritage. Scores applied for exit visas to immigrate to their ancestral homeland of Israel. To apply for an exit visa, the applicants and often their entire families would have to quit their jobs, which in turn would make them vulnerable to charges of social parasitism, a criminal offense.
While some were allowed to emigrate straightaway, many of their applications were held up or outright refused, hence their moniker “refuseniks.” The oft-stated reason for denial was concern over Soviet national security, based on “classified” information to which these individuals had supposedly been exposed. Prominent refuseniks were regularly convicted of state crimes in staged trials. Accused of treason and espionage, they were sentenced to years of hard labor and torture cells.
One would have expected Jewish ferment to decrease under such heavy-handedness. But Soviet cruelty hardened these Jews and strengthened their resolve to emigrate. It also inspired many others to join them. While they waited, they organized Hebrew language classes and Torah study groups. They circumcised their sons and built mikvehs (ritual baths), religious acts of self-sacrifice that carried with them the threat of, among other things, an extended internment in the Siberian Gulag.
