by Sergejus Kanovičius

First, the Litvaks died. Almost all of them.

Then began the first division of property stolen from them (with the “honorable” role played by general Vėtra in this).

After World War II, the Soviets legalized this theft, and no one was supposed to mention it, or even hint of it.

After March 11, 1990, that theft was legalized once again, by limiting dual citizenship and introducing into law the statement that “rights to surviving real estate are restored only to citizens of the Republic of Lithuania.” When I made an application for restoration of citizenship, I was told in a friendly way to include in the application the demeaning statement: “I don’t have any inherited property in the Republic of Lithuania.” And how could I inherit those pits on the margins of forests and villages? How could I inherit those two hundred graves where parents and grandparents lie buried? I don’t have any “property” except for this. Although others might. The fathers of independence have done everything to “protect” us from the completely legitimate property claims of Lithuanian Jews and Vilnius Poles–such an innocent desire that this time everything really would belong exclusively to, sorry, our people.

The state can no longer and probably should no longer return stolen and parceled out property which has changed hands perhaps ten times among owners who were not involved in any way. If there are such disputes, the courts decide, not the politicians, who have assumed the job of the courts.

The state cannot return a mother’s lullaby, nor an old woman’s hair. But the state has no moral right to claim Litvaks have lost the right to be connected with this land, not after June 22, 1941, and not after March 11, 1990. Either we are welcome, or we are not. We are citizens of this land by right of blood. Lots of blood.

All speculations on whether we deserve to have a document showing our connection with this land are cynical and offensive. Just as to measure the connection of a descendant of Litvaks (look how many rich Litvaks there are, dear God, let’s not lose them…) with this land by the depth of their pockets is immoral, because it’s not the wallet, but the relationship with Lithuania which is behind their desire to have a Lithuanian passport.

The descendant of a Lithuanian Jew who left the country on March 12, 1990, or of a Lithuania Jew who survived the Slobodka ghetto has every right to possess a document testifying to his fundamental right to love and remember this land.

Editorial in Lithuanian here.