On March 10, 1943, railcars rolled into Bulgaria under orders connected to Adolf Eichmann, one of the key architects of the “Final Solution.” The cars had arrived to transport Jews from Bulgaria itself and from territories occupied and administered by Bulgaria in Thrace, Macedonia, and Pirot to the death camp at Treblinka. Bulgarian police officers roused Jews from their homes beginning at three in the morning. They were taken at gunpoint to collection centers at schools and other places to await the trains.
And yet, the deportation of approximately 48,000 Jews from Bulgaria’s pre-war borders was ultimately halted. At the same time, more than 11,000 Jews from territories under Bulgarian administration in Thrace, Macedonia, and Pirot, areas that were not part of Bulgaria’s pre-war sovereign territory, were deported to Treblinka and murdered. What transpired was one of the most inspirational, yet also one of the most complicated and least known, events of the Holocaust.
Several years earlier, Bulgaria had aligned itself with Germany to avoid destruction by the Nazi war machine and to pursue territorial ambitions in the Balkans. Bulgaria’s ruling government was authoritarian and aligned with Nazi Germany, and enacted anti-Semitic legislation similar in spirit to laws adopted elsewhere in Nazi-dominated Europe. Known as the Law for the Defense of the Nation, the 1941 measures limited Jews’ rights, forbade intermarriage, and restricted their participation in public life. Additional measures introduced in 1942, including identification requirements and forced labor, further marginalized Jews, all in an attempt to separate Jews from the rest of society.
But unlike in many other European countries, segments of Bulgarian society did not accept these policies. Many did not view the country’s Jews as enemies or threats. Former government ministers wrote parliament a mocking letter: “Poor Bulgaria! We are seven million people, yet we so fear the treachery of 45,000 Jews who hold no positions of responsibility at the national level that we need to pass exceptional laws to protect ourselves from them.” Opposition to the laws emerged from public figures, clergy, professionals, and politicians, and letters of protest reached parliament and King Boris.
Then, in early 1943, the government acquiesced to German demands to deport Jews. The German government claimed the Jews would be taken to work camps where they would be allowed to redeem themselves for their alleged crimes. The deportations were set to begin on March 10. The trains stood ready to take their human cargo to death camps. It seemed as if Bulgaria’s Jews were doomed to the same fate as millions of other Jews in Europe.
Instead, opposition emerged from several sectors of Bulgarian society. Although most Bulgarians did not know that the final destination of the Jews would be death camps, rumors of their ill-treatment had reached the country. The opposition was led in part by figures within the Bulgarian Orthodox Church. “If we, the church, allow the Jews to be deported, we will betray our most sacred obligations,” the Reverend Boris Haralampiev stated. “We must help!”
“The whole Bulgarian Orthodox Church will stand up for the Jews,” Metropolitan Kiril announced. Kiril sent a letter to King Boris pleading on behalf of the Jews. He also told the chief of police that he would not accept the government’s decision to deport them, thereby implying that he would try to hinder the police’s efforts. Other church leaders, including Metropolitan Stefan, also played important roles in opposing the deportations.
On the fateful day, protests and interventions occurred in several locations, most notably in Plovdiv, where Kiril and others opposed the deportations. Later accounts credit Kiril with telling the Jews that he would not allow the deportation to proceed and would even lie down on the railroad tracks to stop it. However, the exact wording of the episode is difficult to verify. What is clear is that Kiril intervened forcefully, appealed to the King, and became one of the most visible religious opponents of the deportation. Various individuals and groups also attempted to assist Jews or delay the deportations.
Bulgaria’s political apparatus also mobilized against the deportations. Deputy Speaker of Parliament Dimitur Peshev was alerted to the danger shortly before the scheduled deportations and intervened with officials in Sofia. His actions brought the matter to the center of Bulgarian political life. Several days later, Peshev wrote a formal letter to the Prime Minister with 43 signatures from members of the parliamentary majority. “Such measure is unacceptable not only because these people of Bulgarian citizenship cannot be expelled outside Bulgaria, but because it would be disastrous and bring ominous consequences upon the country. It would inflict an undeserved stain on Bulgaria’s honor.” Explaining the decision to break with his own party, Peshev said: “I could not remain passive. My conscience and understanding of the grave consequences both of the people involved and for my country did not allow it.”
Under pressure from church leaders, parliamentarians, public figures, and broader opposition, King Boris ultimately halted the deportation of Jews from Bulgaria’s pre-war territory. After a period of uncertainty, Bulgaria’s Jews returned to their homes, much to the dismay of the Nazis. “I am firmly convinced that the Prime Minister and the government wish and strive for a final and radical solution to the Jewish problem,” the German ambassador to Bulgaria wrote his superiors in Berlin. “However, they are hindered by the mentality of the Bulgarian people, who lack the ideological enlightenment we have.” The ambassador’s explanation reflected German frustration and should not be read as the sole reason the deportations were halted. Still, it captured the Nazi view that Bulgaria had failed to comply with German expectations fully.
The Führer was furious. In a meeting with King Boris, he demanded the deportation of all Bulgarian Jews. “Hitler went into a rage when I refused his demands,” the King later recalled. “Screaming like a madman, he attacked me and Bulgaria in a torrent of accusations and threats. It was horrible. But I did not surrender one inch!” Boris told the German leadership that Bulgaria needed the Jews for labor projects. Hitler did not accept this explanation but avoided escalating tensions with an ally. As a result, Jewish men were sent to labor camps within Bulgaria, and approximately 20,000 Jews were relocated internally, but none were deported from Bulgaria’s pre-war borders.
While the Jews within Bulgaria’s pre-war territory were spared deportation, the Jews of Thrace, Macedonia, and Pirot were not. These territories were occupied and administered by Bulgaria during the war, but were not part of Bulgaria’s pre-war sovereign territory. Jews there were denied Bulgarian citizenship, rounded up, handed into the machinery of deportation, and sent to Treblinka, where nearly all were murdered. Their fate remains the tragic exception to the rescue of Bulgaria’s Jews and an essential part of the history.
The lack of knowledge about actions taken in Bulgaria during the war was due in part to the Soviet government’s suppression of information about the rescue, as it did not wish to credit the monarchy and the Church. Therefore, it was not until the end of communist rule in Bulgaria in 1989 that documentation became more widely available. Unlike many countries in occupied Europe, where deportations proceeded with limited resistance, elements of Bulgarian society took action to oppose the deportation of Jews. The rescue of Bulgaria’s Jews was not the work of one person alone. It resulted from a convergence of pressure from religious leaders, parliamentarians, public figures, and ultimately King Boris’s decision to halt the deportations from Bulgaria proper.
The result was extraordinary: nearly all Jews from Bulgaria’s pre-war borders survived the Holocaust. But the story is not a simple triumph. It is also inseparable from the murder of more than 11,000 Jews from territories under Bulgarian administration in Thrace, Macedonia, and Pirot. The history of Bulgaria’s Jews during the Holocaust is therefore both a story of rescue and a reminder of the limits, contradictions, and moral complexity of wartime action.
Source:Sandy Tolan, The Lemon Tree, New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2006.
Justin Moyer, “How Bulgaria Saved Its Jews.” The Washington Post. May 9, 2013.
Nick Kalchev, “The Rescue of the Bulgarian Jews”,1995.
Additional inputs by Dr. Daniel Pangev.