By the late 1930s, Nazi Germany had made life unbearable for Jewish citizens in Europe. Stripped of their rights, livelihoods, and dignity, many sought escape. Amongst them, many went west towards the Americas, North to Great Britain, and South to Palestine. Yet, with the world closing its doors, an unexpected sanctuary emerged in the East: Shanghai. For thousands of Jewish refugees, this war-torn Chinese city became a final beacon of hope.
Though Shanghai’s name is rarely mentioned in traditional Holocaust narratives, the city played a vital role in the survival of 20,000 Jewish refugees who fled the horrors of Nazi persecution. Here, in a city already reeling from its own war against Japanese occupation, Jewish refugees found an unlikely refuge. The story of Shanghai’s Jewish community during World War II is a testament to the convergence of East and West, where the shared struggles of war fostered unexpected bonds of solidarity and survival.
Refugee Crisis
The first step in escaping Nazi persecution depended on one thing: the Jewish community’s ability to leave. But as country after country tightened their borders, securing a way out of Europe became increasingly difficult. For many, survival depended on a fragile piece of paper—a visa. Without it, escape was impossible. It was at this time that diplomats such as Ho Feng Shan, later hailed as the “Chinese Schindler”, risked his status as Chinese chief consul in Vienna, defied orders and issued thousands of visas to the Jewish refugees.
The journey to Shanghai was arduous. Those who escaped by months-long sea faced long voyages across treacherous waters, while others endured the harsh train journeys of Siberia following Italy’s joining of war. When they finally arrived, they found a city ravaged by war and poverty, with Western occupation having already divided the city into Japanese, French and British/American sectors, yet one that welcomed them, and one of the few cities that wouldn’t turn them away.
Although most refugees arrived penniless, with little more than hope and the clothes on their backs, the city offered them something precious: a chance to survive.
Life in Shanghai
For the Jewish refugees who found themselves in Shanghai, survival now meant more than just escaping the horrors of Europe—it meant forging a life in a city already ravaged by war and poverty. Among those who made this journey was Michael Blumenthal, former U.S. Secretary of the Treasury.
Despite the harsh realities of war and displacement, Jewish refugees in Shanghai sought to preserve a sense of normalcy and community. Family remained a core value of their lives, much like it did for their Chinese neighbors; they celebrated religious holidays, children continued their education, and adults found ways to further their professions. Most notably, the Shanghai Jewish Youth Association School, supported by the Kadoorie family, offered an English curriculum to over 600 students, preparing them for a future beyond the war.
Cultural integration was evident in various aspects of life. The marriage of Betty Grebenschikoff was well-known for the gift of a wedding dress blending French silk with Chinese designs—a symbol of East and West converging even in personal narratives. Renowned Jewish artists like Peter Max and David Bloch, the latter later earned the nickname “Ba lo ha” based on the Shanghai dialect “white, green, black”, were amongst those who captured their stories in brushstrokes. Musicians like the violinist Wittenberg even introduced Western musical traditions into the local communities. Everyone sought to live fully and meaningfully in a world turned upside down.
The close quarters of Shanghai’s neighborhoods fostered unique interactions between the Jewish refugees and the local Chinese population. The two communities, both reeling from their respective struggles, formed a bond of mutual support. The Jewish refugees learned to adapt to Shanghai’s long tang (alleyway) life, frequenting local markets, learning basic Chinese phrases, and even adopting local customs through traditional food, language, and art.
As a legacy of this deep-seated connection, some Jewish refugees took an active role in China’s fight against foreign occupation and worked as doctors and journalists for the Chinese military following the liberation. Their participation in this struggle for freedom reflected a shared spirit of resistance, a mutual recognition of the fight against oppression.
Japanese Occupation and the “Designated Area”
The tranquility Jewish refugees had managed to carve out in Shanghai was shattered when the Pacific War engulfed the city in chaos. It is surprising how the ripple effect happens in history. With the 1941 bombing of Pearl Harbor, Japan’s iron grip extended into the UK and US-controlled International Settlement. As the shadow of war spread, Jewish refugees—who had fled the horrors of Europe—found themselves once again under another oppressive force.
In 1943, the Japanese enforced a decree confining Jewish refugees to a cramped area in Hongkou, infamously known as the "Shanghai Ghetto." This zone was already a densely populated district with over 100,000 Chinese residents. This confined space, scarcely three square kilometers, became a desperate crucible where Jewish refugees alongside their Chinese neighbors forged a fragile coexistence.
Fortunately, most of the 20,000 Jewish refugees sheltered in Shanghai survived the Holocaust.
Shared Humanity in Times of Crisis
How do we learn to survive, to tell stories in both familiar and other languages that make life bearable? Even in the face of a persistent feeling of dread, how do we cling to the prospect of hope?
The aim of this article is not to eulogize Shanghai, nor is it to diminish the struggles faced by both Jewish refugees and the local population, but to use this lesser-known chapter with both communities. The intersection of the Jewish struggle against German persecution—a story traditionally framed within the Western narrative—and the Chinese struggle against Japanese aggression provides a unique opportunity to explore how these two seemingly distant histories converged. In Shanghai, the Jewish and Chinese communities, both scarred by war and displacement, forged bonds that transcended cultural and linguistic barriers. This chapter of history reminds us that in times of crisis, our shared humanity can bridge even the widest divides, transforming the darkest of circumstances into stories of solidarity and survival.
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