Features
“Resistance: They Fought Back” – new documentary film chronicles the many instances where Jews fought back against the Nazis
By MARTIN ZEILIG “Jewish resistance during the Holocaust took many forms, armed and unarmed,” notes Holocaust scholar and archeologist Professor Richard Freund in this timely and beautifully crafted feature documentary film by directors Paula Apsell and Kirk Wolfinger.
“We’ve all heard of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, but most people have no idea how widespread and prevalent Jewish resistance to Nazi barbarism was. Instead, it’s widely believed Jews went to their deaths like sheep to the slaughter.”
Filmed in Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Israel, and the U.S., Resistance – They Fought Back provides, as one of the specialists interviewed emphasizes, “a much-needed corrective to this myth of Jewish passivity.
Indeed, the film is a fervent repudiation of the thinking that Jewish resistance was either non-existent or occurred on rare occasions only.
As Dr. Margers Vestermanis, historian and resistance fighter in the Riga Ghetto, articulates, “The idea of resistance practically started with the formation of the ghetto. As we used to say in the ghetto back then, there were two options. You would be undressed…and wait for the bullet. Or you would resist, and you would be shot anyway. You would die anyway, but that would be a different death– a meaningful death, defending the honor of your people.”
There were uprisings in ghettos large and small, rebellions in death camps, and thousands of Jews fought Nazis in the forests, as is discussed in the film.
“Everywhere in Eastern Europe, Jews waged campaigns of non-violent resistance against the Nazis,” observes one of the commentators.
“All over German-occupied territories, ghetto and camp residents disobeyed German edicts to care for the sick and needy, setting up soup kitchens and educating children, maintaining a spiritual life of Jewish observance as well as a cultural life of music, art and theater, hiding and escaping, and documenting German war crimes – all this in the face of starvation, beatings, humiliation, disease, poverty, and the threat of transports and death at any time.”
Among those interviewed in the film are Professor Yehuda Bauer of Hebrew University and Yad Vashem; Professor Avinoam Patt, the inaugural director of NYU’s Center for Study of Antisemitism; and, Maurice Greenberg, Professor of Holocaust Studies in NYU’s Skirball Department of Hebrew and Judaic Studies; Professor Michael Berenbaum, an American scholar, professor, rabbi, writer, and filmmaker, who specializes in the study of the Holocaust; Steven Meed, who’s mother, Vladka Meed was a Warsaw Ghetto courier; Yoel Yaari, the son of Bela Hazan, who worked in Gestapo headquarters in Grodno. He is writing a book about her based on Bela’s own notebooks, which reveals her “courageous actions in both ghettos and camps.”
We also meet concert violinist Dana Mazurkevich, who was smuggled out of the Kovno ghetto in a truckload of potatoes; internationally known artist Samuel Bak who had his first exhibition in the Vilna Ghetto at age 9; and, David Gur, whose forgeries saved thousands of Budapest’s Jews.
This is a film that deserves the widest possible viewership.
Ms. Apsell, who was also co-writer and executive producer agreed to a Zoom interview with this reporter on April 15, 2024. (Comments from the “Director’s Statement” are also included in Ms. Apsell’s responses.)
MZ: What is the genesis of this film?
PA: It got its start on a sunny June day in 2019 at my kitchen table in Boston during a visit from Holocaust scholar and archeologist Richard Freund. In 2016, Kirk Wolfinger, his team from Lone Wolf Media, and I had made a documentary for the PBS NOVA series following Dr. Freund and his team as they discovered an underground escape tunnel in a forest in Lithuania where the Germans and their Lithuanian collaborators murdered 70,000 Jews.
As we learned when our film aired the next year, very few people had ever heard of this tunnel dug with spoons by shackled Jewish prisoners, twelve of whom escaped to fight with the partisans. But it is far from the only example of Jewish resistance during the Holocaust. When I asked why such examples of Jewish heroism were not more widely known, Dr. Freund quipped, “Because you haven’t made the film yet.”
Perhaps intended as a joke, I took the response as a challenge. I had just retired after 35 years as NOVA’s Executive Producer, and I was looking for a project to engage my mind and my heart. And what could be more worthwhile, more challenging to research and recount, than this largely unknown story of Jewish resistance during the Holocaust?
As I would learn, many stories of Jewish resistance have all but vanished. In some cases, no historical records exist, and no one survived to tell the tale. The Germans documented many aspects of their war against the Jews, but they were allergic to any mention of Jewish resistance, leading many to think it never happened and to believe that “Jews went to their deaths like sheep to the slaughter.”
MZ: What else would you like to say about the film?
PA: The film my production partners at Lone Wolf Media and I wound up making is a passionate refutation of that way of thinking (that Jewish resistance was either non-existence or rare). Told by survivors, their children, and expert witnesses from the U.S. Israel, and Europe, it is a revelation based on extensive research of how the Jews of Europe fought back.
It uncovers evidence of non-violent methods which served as crucial tools of resistance and evolved into Jewish armed revolts in ghettos, forests and death camps, even as the odds of success were vanishingly small. Today, almost eighty years after the Holocaust, this story remains largely unknown to the general public. Without it, our understanding of this genocide, which wiped out two-thirds of European Jews, remains incomplete, giving rise to renewed anti-Semitism, hatred, and denial of the Holocaust itself.
It took four years to produce the feature documentary Resistance – They Fought Back during which challenges abounded, some predictable when we began, others totally unknown.
Our society’s understanding of the Holocaust, even after all these decades, is limited, misunderstood and frighteningly transient. Surveys indicate that two-thirds of millennials in the United States cannot identify the infamous concentration camp Auschwitz. In the U.K., surveys suggest that 1 in 20 people don’t believe the Holocaust happened, and one-third of people from seven surveyed European countries know little or nothing about it.
That Jews were complicit in their own deaths has become a common meme of both anti-Semitic and white supremacy movements, which are steeply on the rise. Therefore, this story is one that demands to be told now with the authenticity that archeological finds, rigorous historical analysis, and eyewitness testimony describing tunnels that were dug, sewers used as escape routes, examples of sabotage against the all-powerful German army can provide.
Thus, even as survivors leave us and personal testimony fades, we are gaining a new perspective to our understanding of the Holocaust. It is this story of millions of victims whose brave acts of resistance against a barbaric and all-powerful enemy have too long remained unheralded, that we are determined to tell.
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.