Nor did later generations do their best to make amends. For decades, Holocaust survivors and their families who sought to reclaim capital they had deposited in Swiss banks before and during the war were met with outright refusal. Only in 1998, following a lengthy public campaign and persistent legal struggle, did the banks consent to set up a fund of $1.25 billion to compensate the heirs of the original depositors: the Jewish refugees Switzerland turned away during the war and those it used as slave labor. Stuart Eizenstat, the United States ambassador to the European Union at the time, who played a major role in exposing Swiss injustice and forcing restitution, explains in his book Imperfect Justice: Looted Assets, Slave Labor, and the Unfinished Business of World War II (2003) that

Eizenstat further notes that the difficult negotiations he conducted with both the banks and the government in Bern led to an outbreak of vicious antisemitism in Switzerland. He mentions, by way of example, a cartoon published in a local newspaper at the time: “Under the caption Helvetia under Drunk (‘Switzerland under pressure’) is a Jew holding a press, crushing Mother Switzerland into disgorging gold.”

 

Undoubtedly, Switzerland’s dark past only inflamed the anger felt by many Jews and Israelis over its recent decision to befriend some of their worst enemies. In the wake of the meeting between presidents Merz and Ahmadinejad, Israel recalled its ambassador to Switzerland for consultations, and President Shimon Peres declared, “There must be a limit, even to the neutrality of Switzerland.” But with diplomatic protests falling on deaf ears, some have suggested a different course of action. In a fuming, sardonic piece in the Israeli newspaper Maariv, journalist Nadav Eyal reasoned:

Eyal’s resentment is certainly justified, and some of his suggestions indeed make sense. But it would be a mistake to think that the problem begins and ends with Switzerland. Ultimately, Swiss policies are but an extreme example of a much wider phenomenon, and reflect an approach that appeals to many in Europe and beyond. Put simply, it holds that in a world where armed rivals are engaged in a game of life and death, the smartest thing to do is to watch from the sidelines.

In the past, this assumption might have made sense: When Switzerland first adopted its policy of neutrality in the sixteenth century, it did so because it had no choice. Home to various cultural and linguistic groups living side by side, it was forced to contend not only with the danger of foreign conquest, but also internal schism. Under the circumstances, neutrality was the only viable option. It was also, and perhaps more importantly, not morally problematic: In the power struggles between Europe’s various monarchs and, later, nation-states, no side held a fundamental moral advantage over its rivals.

In the twentieth century, however, the picture changed dramatically. World War II and the ensuing confrontation between the West and the Soviet bloc were not merely geopolitical conflicts between morally equivalent parties. Rather, they were clashes between worldviews, each of which sought to propel mankind in an opposing direction. These battles set open societies against closed ones, democracies against dictatorships, and value systems that promote pluralism and tolerance (albeit often begrudgingly honored) against ideologies that sought to obliterate the “other.” The battle being waged today between the West and radical Islam is no different. The atrocities carried out by extremist Muslims in Afghanistan, Iraq, Sudan, Somalia, Algeria, and Israel—and let us not forget New York—have made it clear that, now as then, the forces of freedom are up against unconstrained evil.

In such a conflict, there is no place for neutrality—or passivity, indifference, and weakness. The reality of our world demands total commitment to one or the other side. Sadly, Switzerland is not the only state that has chosen to be one of what Dante called “the sad souls… who lived without blame and without praise.” Even among those nations that have proclaimed their willingness to fight to protect their freedoms, many too frequently prefer to avoid decisive action, thus enabling their enemies to gather strength and prepare for the next round. Thus, for example, is Israel obliged to sit back and watch while Iran’s nuclear project, which poses an apocalyptic threat to its existence, moves forward, while in America and Europe—not to mention China and Russia—statesmen talk incessantly of “diplomatic channels” and warn against “burning bridges” with the Muslim world. And when the president of the United States asserts, in his initial response to the presidential election fraud in Iran and the subsequent suppression of popular protest, that “it’s not productive” for his country to intervene, his words recall the advice of Switzerland’s fifteenth-century patron saint, Nicholas of Fle, who counseled his flock: “Don’t get involved in other people’s affairs.”

History shows that at times there is simply no escaping involvement in other people’s affairs—lest we wish them to become our own. Winston Churchill once said, “An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last.” If we seek to avert disaster, we cannot suffice with not feeding the crocodile. We must also confront those who do.

 

Assaf Sagiv
October 2009