At the conclusion of the Passover Seder, we express a hope for “Next Year in Jerusalem.” For Jews who are lucky enough to live in Jerusalem, their wish is to live in peace with their neighbours. For those of us who visit Israel once a year for the holidays, it is a prayer that we should be able to continue this tradition.

However, for Jews in the Former Soviet Union during the 1970s and 1980s, it was an even more heartfelt and emotive prayer. During that period, requesting an exit visa to leave “Mother Russia” was punishable by at best losing one’s job, or at worst by being sent to internal exile in Siberia. These Jews became known as refusniks, as they had been refused exit visas and were then severely ostracised by the authorities. The only thing they knew the next year would bring would be further restrictions and hardship.

In 1984, at the age of 19, I had the privilege of meeting Ernie Hirsch in London. For many years, Ernie was committed to helping Jews in the Soviet Union survive. He successfully raised vital funds to pay the travel expenses for UK Jews who wished to visit the refusniks, as well as to buy essential items for those living in extreme poverty.

In May 1984, Ernie arranged for me and another volunteer, Yocheved Kahn, to travel to Moscow. We first had to obtain new passports, as any travel documents already displaying an Israeli stamp would be met with an automatic visa refusal. Once we had obtained our new passports, we made applications for entry visas, which arrived
shortly thereafter.

Strangers on the street were hesitant to engage with us.

We began our evening meetings with Ernie, who briefed us extensively on the risks we were taking and what items we were permitted to take into Moscow. We were taught how to communicate discreetly, to not discuss sensitive issues in our hotel room, which might contain listening devices, and to be careful if we were followed. If we adhered to Soviet protocol, we would not endanger ourselves or the people we were to meet.

Ernie filled our suitcases with powdered baby formula, children’s clothing, adult jeans, and a video camera that could be sold on the black market to provide a needy family with vital funds to survive for a month. Our suitcases were packed, but we hardly resembled tourists who were travelling lightly for a week of sightseeing.

In May 1984, we arrived at Sheremetyevo International Airport. We were the only two passengers on the flight who were detained at customs. The customs officers emptied our suitcases and asked us many questions. Despite having been well briefed, we nevertheless found the experience intimidating, but we were on a mission that we knew had certain risks attached.

After arriving at the Intourist Hotel close to Red Square, we were to meet our main contact on the first day at Sokol Station. I remember the grandeur of Moscow’s subway system, the wide streets and vast public squares. We struggled to read the Cyrillic alphabet, and strangers on the street were hesitant to engage with us.

They knew our visit meant they had not been forgotten.

After meeting that contact and subsequently visiting his family at their home, we arranged to visit many refusnik friends during the week. Each family we met had similar stories of being refused exit visas, losing their jobs, and struggling to make ends meet. Many of them spoke Hebrew surprisingly well, even though they had never travelled to Israel. They knew our visit meant they had not been forgotten, and we would continue to campaign for them to leave the Soviet Union and live their lives freely.

Little did we know what the next year would bring. In June 1985, a couple of days after my wedding, I received a call from the famous historian Sir Martin Gilbert, telling me the good news that he was on his way to Vienna to greet some mutual friends who had been given permission to leave Moscow, and were en route for a flight to Tel Aviv. The new Soviet president, Mikhail Gorbachev, had introduced the practices of glasnost (the policy of more open and consultative government) and perestroika (the policy of restructuring or reforming the economic and political system), paving the way for thousands of Jews to leave the Soviet Union and to emigrate to Western Europe, the USA, and Israel.

Those seven days in the Former Soviet Union taught me to appreciate being able to live freely as a Jew and in a democratic state. As this year ends, let us hope and pray that what next year brings will be better health and no further curbs on our freedom.