Brazilian Belonging: Jewish Politics in Cold War Latin America (Review)

In 1968, Brazil’s Institute of Social and Economic Studies released the results of a survey it conducted on attitudes towards Jewish Brazilians. Published in Realidade, it revealed that despite Brazilian myths of racial democracy, certain anti-Jewish attitudes and stereotypes remained widely prevalent. Sixty-three percent of those surveyed agreed with the statement that “to a Jew, being Jewish is more important than being Brazilian,” and 45 percent agreed that “Jews bring prejudice upon themselves because they consider themselves different and superior to other people.”

At this crucial moment in the Cold War, the survey revealed the tenuous nature of Brazilian Jewish belonging. How various individual Jews and Jewish groups navigated that lived experience is the subject of Michael Rom’s new book, Brazilian Belonging: Jewish Politics in Cold War Latin America. In it, Rom spotlights Brazilian Jewish activism around a variety of national issues, including immigration restrictions, the exposure of Nazis living in the country, the Cold War dictatorship, Israeli emigration support, and Palestinian diplomacy. Throughout, the book focuses on how Jews attempted to assert national belonging, oftentimes by invoking national myths and countering antisemitic ones.

The result is an archivally rich account of how both Jewish individuals and institutions grappled with rapidly shifting politics—and at times, state violence— before, during, and after the Cold War. While the book’s subtitle emphasizes the Cold War, Rom’s scope is broad. The book opens with Jewish immigration in the 1920s and 1930s, covers the politics of Getúlio Vargas’s Estado Novo, deals with the periods of political democracy (1945-1964) and military dictatorship (1964-1985), and even extends to the regime of Jair Bolsonaro (2019-2022).

Exploring the continuities and changes that characterized the activism of Brazilian Jews, as well as their contributions to various national movements over this long period, the narrative stands out for two notable historiographical contributions. First, Rom makes a concerted effort to examine not only Jewish institutions within Brazil but also individual, non-affiliated Jews. As Rom rightly points out, a methodological divide often separates scholarship on Jews who are active within Jewish communities and institutions, and studies of Jews as unaffiliated individuals. Integrating these analyses is critical in demonstrating how arguments for national inclusion shifted between advocating for tolerance based on racial and ethnic differences, to pushing for the integration of Jews at the expense of their specific identities.  

This balancing act is best displayed in Rom’s chapter on Jews involved in the 1960s guerrilla movements against military rule. Spotlighting the stories of nearly a dozen Jewish guerrillas, Rom demonstrates how these young, middle-class Jews felt more attached to the militancy of the era than to a specific sense of communal belonging. The chapter draws extensively from Rom’s interviews with many of these activists, as well as memoirs, police files, and other texts by and about them. It is particularly valuable because it makes visible—in some cases for the first time—these actors’ experiences.

The chapter also argues for the importance of recognizing Jewish militancy within political movements in Brazil, a contribution that raises further questions. How representative were these Jewish guerrillas? How important was their Jewishness to their involvement? While Rom notes that many of the activists were initially inspired by Jewish people and ideas, he also brings up the case of Rubens Hirsel Bergel, whose “political radicalization prompted him to break completely with Judaism, and to view himself instead as a ‘universal citizen.” Future research that explores these tensions for other Jewish militants has the potential to reveal whether their political goals were motivated or constrained by a Jewish ethos.

This chapter’s focus on guerrillas also stands in contrast with many Jewish communal institutions and Jews who supported the military dictatorship. Rom mentions that conflict, but it leaves the door open for other historians to explore further the various boundaries of belonging that existed in this critical period of Cold War history in Brazil.

A second compelling historiographical intervention in Rom’s analysis is how Jews invoked the national myth of racial democracy for various purposes across the twentieth century. They did so to advocate for their own inclusion in the national imaginary, as well as to challenge immigration restrictions, Nazi war criminals, and Palestinian diplomats.

Rom’s example of the Latvian Herberts Cukurs is particularly fascinating. Cukurs was a well-known pilot and Nazi collaborator who lived openly under his real name in Brazil for almost two decades until his eventual assassination by the Mossad in Uruguay in 1965. Through a two-chapter arc, the book demonstrates the flexibility of appealing to racial democracy as a means to challenge immigration exclusions—a tactic deployed by Jews and then by Cukurs himself, who argued for his own right to residency. Nevertheless, his argument for his own belonging in Brazil after Jews exposed his identity and crimes relied on the exploitation of a very different mythology: that of “Judeo-Bolshevism,” which focused on painting Jews as “foreign malcontents who were themselves unfit to be Brazilian.” Cukurs advocated for and received police protection after the 1960 kidnapping of Nazi officer Adolf Eichmann in Argentina, but the state ultimately denied him citizenship before his death. The public debates over his ability to continue living in Brazil revealed both the power of claims to myths of racial democracy in the country, as well as the enduring circulations of persistent antisemitic myths.

Ultimately, these examples are illustrative of Rom’s vibrant interweaving of Brazilian history during the Cold War—as experienced and influenced by Jews across the political spectrum. The book is an effective study of Brazil from the perspective of a diverse, heterogeneous minority group that makes visible their contributions, involvement, and experiences in Brazilian history.

The book’s main narrative ends with a picture of Brazilian politics under Bolsonaro, exploring how Jewish support and condemnation of his politics mirrored a larger societal polarization. The book thus does not cover the events of October 7, 2023, nor increasing tensions between Israel and Brazil over President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva’s condemnation of Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Nevertheless, one has to imagine that future historians will be able to draw on Rom’s compelling approach to address the complex questions on Brazilian Jewish identity and belonging that have again become so pertinent.   

Debbie Sharnak is Associate Professor of History and International Studies at Rowan University. She is author of Of Light and Struggle: Social Justice, Human Rights, and Accountability in Uruguay and co-editor of Uruguay in Transnational Perspective.