Abstract
This article analyses Jewish reactions to post-Holocaust hostility and discrimination in Norway, through three case studies: (1) Trials against Nazis and Norwegian collaborators in the National Legal Purge of the immediate postwar years. (2) The 1960 ‘Swastika Epidemic,’ characterized by graffiti on properties and threats against Jewish individuals, which prompted Jewish community efforts to promote an anti-racist bill. (3) The trial against neo-Nazi high school teacher Olav Hoaas in 1976, among the first to be convicted in accordance with the new Article 135a of the law against incitement to racial hatred. Using archival records from the Jewish community and press material, this study explores how the actors defined and developed response strategies against antisemitism. The article explains the integrationist function of combatting antisemitism, as individuals asserted themselves as part of the national community by defending Norway’s democratic values. It highlights collective action and alliances in countering antisemitism, marking Norway as an early example legislating against racism in Europe after 1945.
1 Introduction
1.1 The Jews in Norway
The Jewish population in Norway counted c. 2,100 individuals before the Holocaust and remained half its size after the Second World War.1 Norway was occupied by Nazi Germany from 1940, and during this period, the collaborationist Quisling regime played a role in facilitating the arrests of Jews. The Reich Security Main Office ordered the Norwegian State Police to carry out the arrests and Jews were subsequently handed over to the German Security Police in four major deportation acts to concentration and extermination camps. About 1,200 individuals were able to flee with help from the Norwegian resistance movement, mostly to neutral Sweden. Out of 772 deported, only 37 survived.2 After the war, Norway took in a small number of Jewish Displaced Persons, with no previous relation to Norway.3 The returning population faced individual and collective challenges of rehabilitation. Survivors had lost their loved ones, families struggled to reclaim confiscated possessions and homes. Jewish estates had been sold, furniture auctioned, and many struggled to recover their businesses. Det Mosaiske Trossamfund (DMT), now the only Jewish congregation, worked to rebuild community life for old and new members.
1.2 Historiographic Overview of Postwar Antisemitism in Norway
The first major work on Jewish history in Norway is Oskar Mendelsohn’s Jødenes historie i Norge gjennom 300 år. Written over 40 years, this meticulous reference work covers three centuries of Jewish community life in Norway. Jødenes historie uses unexplored, previously inaccessible records, addressing a broad Norwegian audience during the fragile postwar years; a context discussed in the article. Critics like Kjetil B. Simonsen and Christhard Hoffmann have noted the work’s descriptive approach and lacking systematic analysis of Jewish challenges, including antisemitism.4 Mendelsohn, an active member of the postwar Jewish community, was outspoken against anti-Jewish hostility and discrimination through other channels, like the Jewish community journal Jødisk Menighetsblad which he edited.
Only around the millennium did an academic community form itself around Norwegian Jewish history and antisemitism, leading to institutions like the Norwegian Center for Holocaust and Minority Studies and Jewish museums in Oslo and Trondheim. This shift is part of a historiographic turn focusing on the Holocaust in small communities, and local collaboration in genocidal policies.5 Locally, the late 1990s re-investigation of Jewish property restitution by the Norwegian government sparked public interest. The compensation funds supported cultural development and Holocaust commemoration, leading to the foundation of research institutions.
Recent research on postwar antisemitism in Norway typically criticizes Mendelsohn’s integrationist approach, instead focusing on society’s rejection of Jews through antisemitism, concentrating on studies of the Holocaust and neo-Nazism. This research examines external perceptions of Jews within Norwegian society.6
Kjetil B. Simonsen published widely on post-1945 antisemitism among Norwegian Nazi party veterans, the ideological function of Holocaust denial, and conspiracy thinking among extremists. His new monograph compares public discourses on antisemitism both on the Right and Left, within the shifting boundaries of free speech. He explains that while antisemitism has been scandalized and considered un-Norwegian, marginal groups use anti-Jewish and xenophobic ideas to position themselves against perceived opponents.7
International research has offered a focus on Jewish reactions to antisemitism. In her research, Laura Jockusch emphasises the forward-thinking demands of Jewish groups for a role in the Nuremberg trials, prioritizing collective recognition of Jews as victims.8 Leonard Dinnerstein analyses Jewish self-organization in postwar United States to combat anti-Jewish discrimination in academia, highlighting successful alliances with non-Jewish actors that contributed to the decline in antisemitic incidents.9
1.3 Article’s Objectives and Methodology
This article addresses the gap pertaining to Jewish reactions to antisemitism in postwar Norway, focusing on how those affected defined and responded against hostility and discrimination, in the form of persisting Nazi sentiments.
The study makes three unique contributions. Firstly, it shifts the focus from external (non-Jewish) to internal (Jewish) perceptions of discrimination and integration. Secondly, it introduces the problem of Jewish responses to antisemitism in a context where anti-Jewish hatred was scandalized, shedding light on how this minority asserted itself in society. Thirdly, it uses unexplored empirical sources, including archival records from the Norwegian Jewish community, DMT publications, and Norwegian press material. This combined analysis of private, official and publicized records raises a methodological consideration regarding the interpretation of self-perceptions, as the actors expressed themselves differently to varying audiences.
The study follows three interconnected case studies, centring on the Jewish community’s treatment by the Norwegian legal system, which triggered their reaction:
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Jewish reactions to lenient verdicts against Nazis and Norwegian collaborators in the National Legal Purge after 1945.
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The 1960 ‘Swastika Epidemic,’ marked by graffiti and threats against Jews, prompting community efforts to promote an anti-racist bill.
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The 1976 trial against neo-Nazi high school teacher Olav Hoaas, one of the first convicted under Article 135a of the law against incitement to racial hatred.10
These case studies are examined not merely as instances of antisemitism in themselves, but as situations where Jewish actors highlighted the influence of anti-Jewish ideas in the trials or in their outcome. The study underscores the integrationist function of combatting antisemitism, showing how postwar Jewish activists asserted their inclusion in the national community by defending Norway’s liberal and democratic values. It highlights the impact of organized action and alliances with non-Jewish actors in fighting antisemitism.
The research is not comprehensive or representative of the entire Jewish community but focuses on select cases involving community actors and individual activists. Norway’s example is relevant for understanding methods of combatting discrimination in contexts where the Jewish community is very small, and antisemitism is latent. This study shows how the leadership of a small community influenced anti-racism legislation, making Norway an early example in Europe after 1945. This analysis aims to enhance understanding of minority experiences in North-Western Europe and help improve methods of combatting antisemitism.
2 Jewish Responses to Lenient Verdicts in the National Legal Purge, 1945–1948
2.1 The Verdicts against Wilhelm Wagner and Knut Rød
In 1946, the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg concluded the main trial against former leaders of Nazi Germany. Judicial proceedings in the liberated countries including Norway’s National Legal Purge [rettsoppgjøret] applied the same principles to Nazis and collaborators.
In Norway, police inspector Knut Rød, member of the Norwegian Nazi party during the occupation, was responsible for the arrest of Jews in Oslo prior to their deportation to concentration camps. He resigned from the State Police in 1943 and was arrested in 1945, charged with treason and aiding the enemy.11 His defence argued that he had joined the Nazi party as a cover for his work within the Norwegian resistance movement. Rød was acquitted in the Court of Appeal with the majority of the judges believing his actions against the Jews were solely to provide camouflage for his important work for the resistance. Following an appeal, he was ultimately acquitted in 1948. Although unwelcome back at the Oslo Police, he was reinstated as police inspector after a private case was raised, and served until retirement.
Regarding Rød’s acquittal researchers ask whether the court failed to consider Jews part of the Norwegian community, and thus did not prioritize their justice in the verdict. Øivind Kopperud and Irene Levin argue that Rød was tried for crimes against Jews but was acquitted because he helped “Norwegians,” indicating Jews were not taken for part of the Norwegian community.12 Likewise, Per Ole Johansen explains that the court’s traditional understanding of violence, focused on evil character and direct contact with the victim, was inadequate for understanding organized genocide as in Rød’s case. The court saw atrocious policies against Jews as dictated by the German occupier and executed by the treacherous Quisling regime, thus minimizing the Norwegian police’s role in the war’s scheme.13 Torgeir E. Sæveraas criticizes these interpretations, arguing evidence regarding Rød are insufficient to indicate his motivations and responsibility. Sæveraas ultimately concludes Rød faced a complex moral dilemma of catastrophic consequences for both himself and others.14
Another trial which raised crucial questions on justice and responsibility, was that of senior Gestapo official Wilhelm Wagner, who headed the office in the Norwegian Security Police responsible for the ‘Jewish question.’ Wagner stood trial in 1946 for the administration of the deportation of Norwegian Jews to concentration and extermination camps, and was initially sentenced to death. However, his verdict was changed to 20 years of forced labour. His responsibility was deemed limited, the court reasoning he would have risked his life if he had refused German orders.15
Wagner based himself in the by then customary defence rhetoric that he only “followed orders” and was not motivated to persecute Jews. He appealed the death sentence to the Supreme Court, and the Jewish community followed the developments with great concern. While the verdict was under reassessment, Marcus Levin of the Jewish community DMT leadership received a private letter from a community member, Alfred Leopold, expressing concerns that “unconscious Nazi attitudes” still existed in Norway.
Ruthlessness and egoism, Leopold argued, represented the basic evil inclination in everyone, explaining the persistence of such thinking postwar. He did not use the term ‘antisemitism’ but described these attitudes as a remnant of Nazism among ordinary people. He warned that these anti-Jewish attitudes could tip the scale in Wagner’s favour and urged Levin to continue actively fighting antisemitism:
It is going slowly. It drags on. It is very difficult. But, dear Marcus, after all, it has been moving forward all along. Often invisibly. Especially because one sees first and foremost the setbacks and difficulties. But all those setbacks and the many difficulties have proven to be a necessity. A necessary evil, which is only of a passing nature. And beneath the outer facade, something new is growing and thriving. Something good. Something better. Something resilient. Something that lasts.16
The previous year, Levin explicitly addressed persistent antisemitism in Norway. In a report to the Jewish humanitarian organisation Joint, he warned Jews in the country faced “the antisemitism that cannot be denied, even though at the moment it does not hit particularly hard and is not particularly noticeable, other than in private.” He argued that antisemitic propaganda during the occupation “left its mark” and “oddly enough, became noticeable as soon as the external pressure had vanished.”17
In private forums like internal community correspondence or reports to supportive Jewish organisations, individuals had more freedom to express concerns about the situation of Jews in Norway. However, some individuals informed the Norwegian public about antisemitism after 1945. In an article to the newspaper VG, Jewish lawyer Leon Jarner argued that antisemitism was a prejudiced worldview, and a latent aversion against Jews originating in conspiracy thinking and irrational hatred. Due to its abstract nature, antisemitism was durable and flexible, able to exist wherever Jews were.
While policy could protect against discrimination, antisemitic attitudes among the population were difficult to detect. Jarner maintained: “If someone asked me whether ‘antisemitism’ was more widespread in Norway today than previously, the answer would have to be an unequivocal yes!”18 Both private and public examples acknowledged the Nazis’ role in instilling antisemitic propaganda in Norway, perpetuated the Norwegian Nazi party, and recognized anti-Jewish attitudes as a pervasive inclination in private and daily life.
Nevertheless, the DMT leadership had a representative role and thus was expected to collaborate with the authorities as a constructive strategy to protect its members. Therefore, Marcus Levin protested the rendering of Wagner’s verdict to the Attorney General, arguing that the new verdict lacked its essential preventative effect since Jews were not equally protected by the law as other Norwegian citizens: “We, Jews, are not given the protection that we, Norwegian citizens, should have in the constitution by this Supreme Court’s verdict.” He did not accuse the court of antisemitism but implied that the court would make a different verdict, were the victims non-Jews:
One cannot let go of the feeling that the court’s verdict gives expression to undervaluing of the certain group of people here in question—and one asks oneself whether the court would reach the same result, if the matter regarded a different group of Norwegian citizens of a similar number, of whichever random composition.19
Levin concluded that the court underestimated Wagner’s responsibility by disregarding the moral implications of his crime. In addition to the deportation of Jews, he asserted that Wagner should have been charged for crimes of conscience, including direct abuse of Jews still in Norway. The court should have understood the Holocaust in Norway as a continuous process, beginning earlier than the first major deportation in autumn 1942 and lasting until the end of the war. Instead, Levin explained that the court turned a blind eye to happenings before the deportation, which led to a false impression of the scope and significance of Wagner’s crimes. Levin refuted Wagner’s claim of ignorance regarding the deportation plans by matching the dates of the acts he had administered.
A month later, DMT released the following statement in Arbeiderbladet: “The verdict seems to us, Norwegian Jews, as one of many cases in which the Supreme Court unconsciously undervalues a certain group of Norwegian citizens.”20 This rare public address by the community leadership arguably stemmed from a lack of influence in constructive correspondence with the authorities. Nevertheless, this collective assertion in the major newspapers also demonstrates DMT’s power to take up space in public discourse.
DMT did not imply that the court was influenced by antisemitism. Rather it maintained that Jews were not treated as equal ‘Norwegians,’ and therefore the Supreme Court’s undervaluing of a certain group of people must have been unconscious. On the same day, Jewish medical doctor Bernhard Goldberg argued in Dagbladet that Wagner’s crimes were neither taken seriously enough by the court, nor stirred proper reaction in the public because they only concerned Jews.21 He did not use the term ‘antisemitism’ but suggested Jews were of lesser value in the application of the law, indicating latent anti-Jewish sentiment.
Goldberg framed his criticism productively: it was not revenge the Jews sought, but restorative justice: “Now we Jews ask: what protection does the Supreme Court give us? Do crimes against Jews not fall under crimes against humanity?” He highlighted solidarity between Jews and non-Jews by arguing that before the war “there was no Jewish problem in Norway.”22 Yet, the situation of Jews postwar was unique: “I think I dare say that we have not bothered you with our grief, with the fantastic [sic] loss we have had” (my italics; NB-D).
Goldberg was not only a proud Jew, but a proud resistance fighter, who became the most decorated Norwegian Jewish soldier of the Second World War.23 He followed his father’s footsteps, who was active in the 1930s helping Jewish refugees from central Europe into Norway. Goldberg’s parents and siblings were all deported to Auschwitz.24 His strong standing in the military resistance and activist background explain his clear position: Jews shared their fate with other Norwegians, and they should be treated equally correcting the wrongs against them.
Why did Goldberg not use the term antisemitism? He showed that there were various ways to call out antisemitism other than calling it by its name. Leon Jarner defined antisemitism as anti-Jewish attitudes in daily life, while Marcus Levin used the term in his letter to Joint to describe latent anti-Jewish attitudes. Others differentiated between Nazi antisemitism involving legal discrimination and violence, and notions of social exclusion and othering, using a different terminology.
In their statement, DMT did not mention ‘antisemitism’ but suggested the ‘undervaluing’ of Jewish citizens by the law. Alfred Leopold claimed that unconscious Nazi attitudes persisted among Norwegians, describing them as irrational hatred that could exist in liberated Norway without the Nazi regime. Thus, ‘antisemitism’ could refer to general anti-Jewish hatred in the postwar period but there was a distinction between Nazi antisemitism, seen as the brutal policy of annihilation of Jews, and less visible forms of anti-Jewish hostility like the ‘undervaluing’ of Jews in the law. This less visible discrimination was harder to detect because it was a matter of conception.
2.2 “A Red Bloody Thread”: Jewish Responses to the Feldmann Case
In October 1942, elderly couple Jacob and Rakel Sonja Feldmann were killed by two escape agents of the Norwegian resistance movement, while attempting to cross the border to Sweden. The agents stole the couple’s valuables and threw the bodies in a pond. Since the accused were not members of the Nazi party, their trial occurred separately from the National Legal Purge and fell under criminal law jurisdiction.25 In their defence, they argued that the couple posed a burden and a risk to the group’s safety, potentially exposing their escape routes. Consequently, they were acquitted of murder but convicted of embezzlement.26
Several Jewish community members who knew the accused from their own escape testified, including Julius Martin Selikowitz and Ben London. During the trial, London interjected in protest that the court accepted a derogatory depiction of them as incapable and deserving of their fate. He asserted that the Feldmanns could have crossed the border and did not burden the group or expose it to danger. London argued that the court’s handling of the case disgraced the dead.27 A key public debate question was how the accused should be judged, given their role in leading other Jews to safety in Sweden, contributing to the ‘national struggle.’
This study examines perceptions presented in the major newspapers, one of them being Verdens Gang (VG), Norway’s largest newspaper of today, and the voice of Norwegian resistance veterans during the postwar years. Its chief editor Oskar Hasselknippe introduced an anonymous letter from a resistance veteran who admitted facing a similar dilemma during the war, while smuggling a Jewish mother and son across the border. The author described the mother as dangerously unstable, expressing his readiness to kill her if she would jeopardize the escape. Hasselknippe introduced this letter as “perhaps the most important contribution for wakening the people’s conscience regarding the Feldmann case.”28
Leo Eitinger, Auschwitz survivor and an outspoken figure in the Jewish community against antisemitism, argued that soldiers must refuse criminal orders; since the accused did not report their action, they were no soldiers. He also explained that under martial law, soldiers were forbidden to take the enemy’s belongings, addressing the embezzlement aspect.29
While the killing was not deemed as antisemitic, the question remained of the court’s acquittal and whether it was unjust towards the victims as Norwegian Jews. Were the killers acquitted because the court did not consider their crime serious enough? Just weeks before the Feldmann’s killing, the accused had helped Oskar Mendelsohn and his wife across the border.30 In his postwar book Jødenes historie, Mendelsohn takes a reserved approach to the Feldmann case, bringing forward press items addressing mainly the embezzlement rather than the killing.31 Mendelsohn does take up the question of discrimination in the application of the law, posing instead the question of the resistance agents’ responsibility towards the Feldmanns. One wonders whether this approach stems from personal experience, perhaps inhibiting him from openly condemning those who effectively saved his life.
Oskar Mendelsohn’s son, interviewed for this study, explains his father’s recognition of injustice in the verdict, as shared by many in the Jewish community who believed the accused should have been punished more severely. The acquittal of the murder accusation was perceived as “discriminatory” against Jews [forskjellsbehandling] implying that the killers would have suffered a harsher verdict if the victims had not ‘only’ been Jews. This suggested the court valued Jewish citizens less than non-Jews. When asked if the Feldmann case was perceived as antisemitic, Mendelsohn’s son answers negatively: the killing itself was not antisemitic but the feeling of humiliation shared by many in the Jewish community indicated a racist mindset which was the unspoken norm. In other words, while antisemitism was associated with Nazi policies, anti-Jewish discrimination in the Feldmann case was seen as social exclusion and different treatment as citizens.32
After the trial, in Dagbladet, Jewish community member Aksel Scheer compared the Feldmann case with those of Wagner and Knut Rød. Following DMT’s argument he deemed it only natural to draw a parallel between these cases where Jews became the victim. Using a metaphor of “a red bloody thread” Scheer argued that the court consciously “undervalued” [nedvurdering] Jews, concluding with the question: how much does it cost to kill a Jew in Norway?33
The moral question posed by individual Jewish actors did not gain wide public engagement. Goldberg received an antisemitic threat letter, where the writer answered positively to his question whether Jews were of lesser value. The writer reiterated anti-Jewish tropes but likely did not represent the larger public opinion.34 One anonymous response in Dagbladet addressed both the Wagner and Feldmann cases, implying that lingering antisemitic attitudes allowed injustice against Jews. The responder criticized the use of Norwegian national heroes, like Henrik Wergeland and Fridtjof Nansen for national image building in this debate, arguing that the social problem remained. This criticism appears to apply both to Jewish and non-Jewish voices including Bernhard Goldberg.35 The limited public response to these critical voices may inadvertently validate concerns about overlooking a significant issue.
3 The 1960 ‘Swastika Epidemic’
Christmas Eve 1959 marked the first major public outburst of Nazism in the postwar period. During the ‘Swastika Epidemic,’ antisemitic incidents, characterized by hateful graffiti, death threats to Jews and attempted attacks, spread from West Germany to Western Europe and North America with over 2,500 incidents worldwide. Norwegian civil society responded actively to these events, including the Church, the Federation of Trade Unions, and the Student’s Organization advocating for anti-racist legislation and demonstrating against antisemitism.
Historians Karl Egil Johansen, Christhard Hoffmann, and Kjetil B. Simonsen explain Norway’s rejection of the ‘Swastika flu’ as a zero-tolerance stance against the revival of Nazism, although many doubted the likelihood of such regression in the shadow of the Holocaust.36 In news articles expressing sympathy with the Jewish community, the Holocaust served as the contextual framework, emphasizing the prevailing assumption of the presence of antisemitism in the Western world, capable of being triggered at almost any time.37
In Norway, estates, schools, and public places were defaced with swastikas and antisemitic inscriptions, and Jewish individuals were targeted with violent threats. However, compared to the situation in West Germany, in Norway the incidents were described as spontaneous and single-standing mob actions of youth; not organized neo-Nazi activity. In the words of the head of Criminal Police: “[T]here is no reason to draw lines in an international perspective because some mob scratched a swastika on the door of some Jew’s office.” The police concluded there was no evidence that local incidents were tied with tendencies in West Germany and other countries.38
A police inspector suggested that the ‘Swastika Epidemic’ lacked substantial roots in neo-Nazism since he believed “antisemitism here in this country has never really been a problem.”39 When a friend of Otto Rabl, a Jewish businessman who was attacked under the ‘Swastika Epidemic’ reacted that the police did not take antisemitism seriously enough, highlighting their blindness to the possibility of Nazism in Norway, Rabl thanked him privately for being “among the few who took up the issue from the right place.”40
3.1 Preparing Article 135a against Incitement to Racial Hatred
Otto Rabl, whose home and office were targeted with swastikas and death threats, was exceptionally outspoken about the assaults. One of the letters he received, written in German, called on the “swine” to disappear or the sender “will cook good soap from you!”41
Being interviewed by the major newspapers, Rabl maintained that he never encountered similar antisemitism in the country, however, he insisted the letters he had been receiving were not to be underestimated as foolishness or a misunderstanding.
Rabl stressed the urgency of eradicating persistent Nazi antisemitism. Being interviewed by the magazine NÅ, he criticized the press’ use of terminology like “mischief” [rampestreker], as he believed the ‘Swastika Epidemic’ was being orchestrated by a Nazi underground movement.42 Rabl revealed that he had turned to the police promptly. The interview, however, does not indicate what—if any—protection might have been provided for his household. Despite (or because of) this publicity, Rabl continued to receive threats indicating that the exposure did not deter further harassment. Nevertheless, his openness resonated with many who admitted to him he changed their perception of antisemitism.43
Marcus Levin privately acknowledged that Rabl was “being scapegoated for all of us Jews.”44 Yet, DMT chairman Harry Koritzinsky expressed a contrasting stance in an interview alongside Rabl:
One gets a strong impression that general incitement against the Jews has been initiated from one side or another. However, I do not expect the situation to be serious anywhere in Europe. Here in Norway, I do not think there is any conscious antisemitism.45
Koritzinsky described the events as “demonstrations” rather than vandalism, and the news article described “crowd’s rampage” rather than organized neo-Nazi activity as Rabl himself termed the incidents in NÅ. Koritzinsky was surprised that Rabl, who lived a secluded life, was targeted. On the other hand, Rabl insisted that the vandalism was purposefully aimed at him as a Jew.
In an earlier interview for Dagbladet Koritzinsky had argued that while some individuals would be dragged into antisemitic thinking due to stupidity, antisemitism as an “aggressive term” could not exist among Norwegians.46 His public role at the Jewish community differed from Rabl’s individual perspective and Levin’s private response. Koritzinsky took a diplomatic approach in the major newspapers, while working uncompromisingly to ensure the security of the community by leading collaborations with the Ministry of Justice to prepare an anti-racist bill.
In early January, when it became clear that the events in West Germany triggered a wave of antisemitic incidents, Koritzinsky informed Jewish community leaders in Stockholm and Copenhagen about their intent to approach the Norwegian authorities regarding “laws against antisemitism.” He sought information on existing laws and their enforcement in Sweden and Denmark.47 In response, the Danish leaders informed him about the Danish article against incitement to racial hatred targeting faith, ethnicity, and national affiliation. However, they explained that they were experiencing difficulties working with the authorities to apply the law in cases of antisemitism. The law in Denmark was not often being enforced, and it did not cover all cases they considered as racial hatred, for example “being a member in an anti-Jewish league.”48
Annotated drafts of the bill likely originating in the Ministry of Justice are found in the Jewish community archive, suggesting the leadership reviewed the process.49 As the representative of the World Jewish Congress (WJC) in Norway, Koritzinsky sought information regarding antisemitic incidents during the ‘Swastika Epidemic,’ and relevant laws in other countries. This information was used in the first Parliamentary meeting to advocate for the bill and inform the Ministry’s plans.50
While this collaboration proved productive, DMT foresaw challenges in asserting the law’s importance and ensuring its enforcement. This became evident when Marcus Levin took issue with the head of the Criminal Police, who dismissed concerns about antisemitism, claiming he never received complaints from Jews. Levin explained that the community hesitated to report attacks due to the Public Prosecutor’s tendency to downplay them. As community representative, Levin was obliged to inform the authorities that Jews felt abandoned as their complaints seldom went forward. Thus, they took personal responsibility by seeking support from their close circle, and often forfeited their case.51
Levin’s clarifications to the Minister of Justice challenged the Criminal Police’s dismissive stance and underscored the Jewish community’s deep-seated scepticism towards law enforcement. Consequently, the head of the Criminal Police eventually acknowledged attempts by Jewish individuals to report antisemitic incidents.52 Labor MP Aase Lionæs was a pivotal actor in getting the bill into law, and together with the Jewish community’s efforts, this marked a significant step in setting a standard against hateful expression and ensuring the safety of Jewish individuals. In 1961, the Parliament adopted Article 135a against incitement to racial hatred, integrating it into general criminal law.53
3.2 Limitations of Article 135a
Albeit formulated broadly against racial discrimination, the parliamentary debate’s protocol addressed antisemitism explicitly. It presented statistics provided by the WJC and reflected existing laws in the neighbouring Scandinavian countries against hateful expression, highlighting DMT’s international collaboration and indicating that they were a central driving force behind the bill. However, the law had limitations, as it only covered public hateful expression, excluding private or unwitnessed incidents. The law was not meant to hinder “concrete debate on the problems linked to minority groups in society,” hence “[o]nly the grossly inappropriate attacks are included.” Threats or insults against private individuals fell outside the provision.54
In April 1961, Otto Rabl faced another physical attack on the doorstep to his office, for which he turned promptly to the police. A drunk man littered the doorway and barged into his personal space with insults and threats, targeting his ethnic Jewish affiliation and calling him a foreigner. The following day, Rabl learned that the offender was taken to the Criminal Police under the new law. However, when he arrived to give a statement, the officer in charge introduced himself to be no other than Knut Rød; the police officer who administered the deportation of Jews from Norway during the Holocaust.
In Rabl’s account, Rød told him that the case would be returned to the Order Police, not the Criminal Police as per the new law. The offender will be fined only for littering the doorway to Rabl’s office and not for antisemitic threats. Rabl, who had not known Rød, asked whether the man should not be charged for antisemitism, to which Rød refused to pursue charges citing that the decision “came from higher orders.” Rabl urged that if the law was not in place, he would remain without police protection. According to Rabl, Rød answered that “the Criminal Police had so many more important things to do that they could not deal with such issues.” Rabl assumed that the case would be dismissed, and Rød, who “did not like his reaction,” answered in what would be interpreted as a threatening tone: “It is not easy to be a Jew these days.”55
That Knut Rød himself handled cases of harassment of Jews was inconceivable to DMT and they approached the Minister of Justice, insisting Rød should be disqualified from “meddling in cases where Jews are one of the parties concerned” due to his aiding the enemy in deporting Jews to gas chambers in Auschwitz.56 While DMT’s correspondence suggests Rød was involved in cases relating to Article 135a, my research could not confirm this certainly on the authorities’ side. Therefore, it is unclear whether he faced consequences following DMT’s intervention.
The Article was in Parliament in March 1961 and during Rabl’s incident had not yet taken effect, indicating a temporary obstacle.57 Nevertheless, this case highlights the power of self-organization as reflected in DMT’s capacity to advocate for its members. While Rabl adeptly responded to harassment, he found himself at odds with a single police officer. DMT, instrumental in the creation of a penal code against hateful expression, leveraged Rabl’s case to communicate directly with the Minister of Justice.
What hindered justice? Was it Rød’s actions or the limitations of the law itself? The offender’s actions fulfilled the criteria for public hateful expression by targeting Rabl’s Jewish affiliation and physically confronting him. Additionally, a third-party witness was present, satisfying the conditions for Article 135a. Rød on his part refused to proceed without providing a reason, suggesting that Rabl could file a private case, despite the parliamentary emphasis on the Criminal Police, rather than the Order Police, handling cases related to the penal code. Not only was it challenging to meet the criteria for Article 135a, but the Criminal Police’s handling of the case did not align with expectations and the law was not enforced.
Two years later, in 1963, Marcus Levin reported a hostile incident involving a former employee who threatened him with antisemitic remarks.58 DMT wrote to the Minister of Justice on Levin’s behalf suggesting the police did not handle the case because it would have been received by Knut Rød. Although Levin initially turned to the Criminal Police, the police inspector, who DMT believed was Rød,59 later dismissed the case, citing a lack of evidence and asserting that prosecution was not in the public’s interest.
Levin subsequently contacted the State Attorney, including the head of the Criminal Police, and asserted that the absence of Jewish reaction to harassment did not negate the existence of a crime. Levin concluded that without prosecution, Article 135a would have no meaning.60 Some weeks later, he received notice from the Criminal Police that the offender was convicted under Article 246 of the penal code for defamation—not Article 135a, resulting in a financial fine.61
In 1966, Rabl complained against a man who assaulted him knowing Article 135a would not suffice for prosecution. The man refused to return equipment to Rabl’s company and accused him of theft, making violent threats and referencing his Jewish identity. The offender said: “I can make such hateful expressions as much I want, because they are not punishable!”62
Initially, the police suggested defamation charges under the penal code instead of Article 135a.63 However, a few weeks later, Rabl received a clarification that the Attorney General doubted the offender would be indicted this way either, and suggested a private meeting to hear their accounts. Rabl insisted on applying Article 135a and nominated three witnesses, but no further response is found in the archives.64
This case is noteworthy because it reveals that even the offender recognized the limitations of Article 135a and used them against the victim. The ambiguity over whether the assault occurred in public or in private, and whether it was antisemitic made it challenging for Rabl to apply the law. This case reinforced DMT’s argument that the penal code failed to provide the promised protection for Jews, demonstrating how its gaps left vulnerable community members at a disadvantage, contrary to the legislative intent. Article 135a enabled a “concrete debate on the problems linked to minority groups in society” rendering it subject to interpretation. The enduring question was: was an act offensive in violation of the law or was it protected speech?
4 Neo-Nazi Antisemitism and Holocaust Denial in the Case of Olav Hoaas, 1975–1978
In the mid-1970s, Norwegian society faced another challenge to its commitment to liberal and democratic values due to a wave of antisemitism. The final case study examines the verdict against high school teacher Olav Hoaas, who gained attention for openly propagating neo-Nazi ideologies and advocating discriminatory measures against Norwegian Jews.
This case is important in the development of Jewish defence strategies against antisemitism for several reasons. Firstly, the Jewish community’s successful response to Hoaas under Article 135a, and the public support of this action, demonstrate their enhanced ability to define and combat antisemitism once a law against incitement to racial hatred was in place. This was strengthened by an increasing awareness of the horrors of the Holocaust and Nazi antisemitism three decades after the war. Secondly, this case exemplifies the Jewish community’s response to antisemitism as a form of exclusion. By defending its liberal and democratic values, Jews asserted their integral position within Norwegian society. Their collaboration with the authorities in the trial against Hoaas, and the narrative presented in the major newspapers and the Jewish chronicle, projected a unified front between the larger society and Jews against those seeking to undermine the country’s values, namely neo-Nazis.
Olav Hoaas was associated with marginal nationalistic groups during the 1960s and promoted his Nazi ideology in independent publications. He gained public attention during the summer of 1975, through interviews in the major newspapers, VG and Dagbladet. Hoaas openly denied the Holocaust saying gas chambers were a “political spin” and six million Jews killed during the war was exaggerated. Hoaas admitted to teaching these ideas in the classroom. His inflammatory rhetoric, calling for the isolation and expulsion of Jews from Norway, sparked public outrage and calls for action under Article 135a.65
In his monograph on postwar antisemitism in Norway, Simonsen analyses official and public responses to Hoaas, however, without dealing specifically with the Jewish responses. He explains that similarly to the ‘Swastika Epidemic’, references to the horrors of the Holocaust were used as the framework meant to warn the public against racist and antisemitic ideologies. The memory of the murder of Jews was, not for the first time, used actively to maintain an ‘anti-antisemitic’ public norm.66
The 1970s marked the emergence of memoirs by Norwegian Jews.67 The major newspapers were likewise interviewing Holocaust survivors before and during Hoaas’s trial. This was an initial step to normalise the conversation and fulfil a cautionary purpose against hateful expression. As culture historian Leif Sem explains, the memory of the Holocaust has been utilised to support struggles against racism, genocide, and crimes against humanity.68 Arguably, Norwegian Jews’ ability to respond to antisemitism improved, as the mainstream became more prepared to talk about the Holocaust and its implications. This indicates an inevitable minority dependency on the majority’s support, but also a united front between non-Jewish and Jewish voices when it came to rejecting those who sought to undermine liberal and democratic values.
Four Holocaust survivors represented the Jewish community in a letter to the Minister of Church and Education and the Attorney General, demanding legal action against Hoaas in accordance with Article 135a. Among them was psychiatrist Leo Eitinger, whose commitment to combatting racism was connected to his professional and personal experience. After the war, Eitinger informed the public on psychological mechanisms behind xenophobia and contributed key theories regarding othering. DMT’s letter prompted the Attorney General to instruct the District State Attorney to press charges, leading to Hoaas’s trial in 1976.69 Leo Eitinger and Oskar Mendelsohn testified together in the trial. As part of their contribution, they submitted testimonies of other Holocaust survivors to counter Hoaas’s Holocaust denial.70
While collaborating with the authorities, Eitinger and Mendelsohn reiterated their message in other public channels, including the major newspapers and Jewish community chronicle Jødisk Menighetsblad, as well as Jødenes historie—both written and edited by Oskar Mendelsohn. In 1975, Mendelsohn submitted a report to WJC on neo-Nazism in Norway and identified Hoaas’s activism as a pivotal moment in the far-right’s ascent.71 He reviewed and incorporated the trial into the second volume of Jødenes historie which covered the Second World War and postwar eras. Hoaas’s ultimate indictment and ban from teaching in 1978 is brought as a prominent example of successful Jewish resistance against Nazi antisemitism, further enhancing the alliance between Jews and the public in their shared commitment to a liberal and democratic society.
Hoaas was indicted not for Holocaust denial but for perpetuating the idea that Jews did not belong in Norway. While his claims were dismissed as baseless, the charge of incitement to racial hatred stemmed from the actual threat to a group of people and the violation of their rights. The verdict acknowledged that Hoaas denied undeniable facts, when he called the Nazi’s extermination of Jews and gas chambers a fabrication. However, DMT’s endeavour extended beyond combatting Hoaas’s conspiracy narratives. A central incentive for battling antisemitism was to fight a rhetoric that rejected Jews from being Norwegian. Neo-Nazism reignited the trauma of the occupation years when Jews were conceived of as foreigners. With the reintroduction of the ‘anti-Jewish clause’ in the Norwegian constitution, they were subsequently deprived of their citizenship and deported.72 This experience of exclusion, which many of those living in Norway at the time had gone through themselves, underscored their commitment to oppose Hoaas’s ideas. After all, this thinking could be expressed, in its extreme, as exclusion from the protection of the law. Hoaas’s antisemitism represented the worst manifestation of social rejection in Norway, and it was imperative to halt its propagation.
While Mendelsohn takes a cool approach to Hoaas’s case in his book Jødenes historie which addresses a broad Norwegian audience, he is explicit in Jødisk menighetsblad:
The statements are clearly antisemitic. […] he is in favour of tearing down what was founded more than a 100 years ago. They pose a threat to the Jews, and he must be held accountable for his conclusions. […] The statements are all intentional, threatening, and abusive.73
For this reason, DMT asked the Ministry of Church and Education as their highest priority to ban Hoaas from teaching at a high school. They stressed the importance of equality for Jews in the application of the law through minority security over the ‘freedom of speech’ for which Hoaas and his supporters argued. This was initially impossible without sufficient evidence that Hoaas lectured outside the curriculum, however in 1978 the district school board unanimously imposed a restriction on Hoaas, and his subsequent appeals were unsuccessful.74
The interaction between the Jewish community and the legal system played out quite differently looking at the early postwar trials of the National Legal Purge, and later regarding the Hoaas case. In both examples, Jewish individuals sought to assert their position within the national community, by advocating for their rights within the legal framework; a struggle that was ultimately shared by Jews and non-Jews in Norway for a liberal an democratic society, on its way to becoming more accepting and tolerant. Yet, while community actors stood in opposition to decisions made by the court after the war arguing that the authorities did not prioritise Jews’ security as highly as other citizens, their collaboration in the Hoaas case three decades later indicates a shared commitment to equality by the law and even an understanding of the particular circumstances of Jews as a minority group.
5 Conclusions
Central to this study is an attempt to understand how the experience of occupation and the Holocaust has shaped the strategies employed by the Norwegian Jewish community to defend themselves against discrimination and harassment. Did the experience of victimization by Nazi Germany lead Norwegian Jews to integrate further, and come to be viewed as insiders? While criticism of lenient verdicts demonstrates existing tensions and suggests a lack of wider understanding of the unique victimization of Jews, collaborative efforts in formulating anti-racist legislation indicate a clear commitment to inclusion.
While Knut Rød’s attempts to undermine the new law against racial hatred illustrate vividly the limits of anti-antisemitism consensus, the case of Olav Hoaas in the 1970s presents a contrasting picture. Like many countries in Western Europe, Norway underwent notable transformations in social attitudes, not least with the cultural upheaval of the 1968 generation, and the evolution of the discourse on the Holocaust during the 1970s, following the publication of memoirs by Holocaust survivors.75 How did these shifts impact the ability of Jewish voices to resonate within Norwegian society?
Certain formulations, including those of Leon Jarner, Bernhard Goldberg, and Aksel Scheer, suggest a nuanced distinction between persistent Nazi attitudes and different notions of othering. The former was synonymous with the scandalous policy of persecution and annihilation of Jews, while the latter was rooted in irrational hatred, seen as universal and thus emerging among the Norwegian population. This interpretation emphasized the shared stance of Norwegians and Jews against such atrocities, while conveying a feeling of exclusion in the war’s aftermath. The lenient verdicts in the National Legal Purge were perceived as discriminatory against Jews due to suspicion that the crimes would be taken more seriously had the victims been non-Jews, leading the actors to ask whether the judicial system undervalued a particular group of citizens.
With the first major public outburst of neo-Nazism in Norway, successful collaboration with the authorities marked a key for the purpose of fighting back against anti-Jewish harassment. Moreover, DMT’s alliance with Jewish communities in the neighbouring Scandinavian countries and organizations like the WJC played a role in promoting Article 135a, leading to a majority in the Norwegian Parliament and established Norway as an early European example for antiracist legislation in the shadow of the Holocaust.76
As previous research on combatting antisemitism has shown, Jewish speakers have presented their fight not only as a concern for Jews, but for society at large, necessitating collaboration across diverse political actors.77 DMT’s collaboration with the authorities against resurgent antisemitism in the country, culminating in the trial against Olav Hoaas, demonstrates that this tradition has been preserved and developed. In Jødenes historie and Jødisk Menighetsblad, Oskar Mendelsohn makes clear that there was a shared motivation in postwar Norway to protect liberal and democratic values.
The purpose of this article has been to offer a new analysis of internal (Jewish) perceptions of antisemitism, and ultimately of integration in the postwar era. What is new? Firstly, by investigating unexplored Jewish community records this article has given a voice to attempts made to influence Norwegian society to become more accepting and tolerant. The study has argued that the actors combatted anti-Jewish hostility and discrimination as a form of exclusion in society, thereby asserting themselves as part of the national community. Their struggle fulfilled an integrationist function.
Secondly, the study has pointed out particularly to successful strategies of self-organization (DMT leadership representing its members who could not face the authorities from an unprivileged position), and alliance with influential, non-Jewish actors (like authority officials) for the purpose of fighting back. This dynamic reveals on the one hand the inevitable dependency of a minority on a majority that would listen to them, because only they are listened to.78 However, as evident in the high public engagement and support of the community in the Hoaas case, the result of a struggle for a more accepting and tolerant society enhanced the community’s visibility. Their interaction with the legal system demonstrates the power of a small community to foster the shared national values of liberalism and democracy. In confronting antisemitism, these actors looked beyond their own minority and civil rights, in pursuit of a more democratic society.
Acknowledgments
I thank Christhard Hoffmann for his unwavering support and guidance in the writing of my MA thesis, which has been the basis of this article: Noa Ben-David, Jewish Reactions to Antisemitism in Norway, 1945–1983 (MA thesis, University of Bergen, 2023). I thank Kjetil B. Simonsen, Jon Reitan, Karin Zetterholm, Morgan Lewis, and Erik Sunde for their critical feedback. My doctoral studentship at UCL is fully funded by the London Arts and Humanities Partnership (LAHP) in AHRC.
Oskar Mendelsohn, Jødenes historie i Norge gjennom 300 år (Oslo: Universitetsforlag, 1987), 529.
Rolf Golombek and Irene Levin, “Hvem var de overlevende jødene fra Norge etter annen verdenskrig?,” Hatikva 33(3) (2023): 18–31.
Synne Corell. “Vårt lille plaster på krigens sår”. Norges mottak av jødiske “displaced persons” og arbeidere mellom 1946 og 1950 (PhD diss., University of Oslo, 2000).
Christhard Hoffmann, “Nasjonalhistorie og minoritetshistorie: Jødisk historiografi i Norge,” in Fortalt fortid. Norsk historieskriving etter 1970, eds. Jan Heiret, Teemu Ryymin, and Svein Atle Skålevåg (Oslo: Pax, 2013), 246–250, 261; Kjetil B. Simonsen, “Norwegian Antisemitism after 1945: Current Knowledge,” in Antisemitism in the North: History and State of Research, eds. Jonathan Adams and Cordelia Heẞ (Berlin/Boston: Gruyter, 2020), 174–176.
Kjetil B. Simonsen, “Ideologi, situasjon og personlighet. Om forskningen på nazismens gjerningspersoner,” Historisk Tidsskrift 101(1) (2022): 51–56.
E.g. Karl Egil Johansen, “Jødefolket tar en særstilling.” Norske haldninger til jødane og staten Israel (Kristiansand: Portal, 2008).
Kjetil B. Simonsen, I skyggen av Holocaust. Antisemittisme i norsk historie, 1945–2023 (Oslo: Humanist, 2023).
Laura Jockusch, “Justice at Nuremberg? Jewish Responses to Nazi War-Crimes in Allied-Occupied Germany,” Jewish Social Studies 19(1) (2012): 107–147.
Leonard Dinnerstein, “Anti-Semitism Exposed and Attacked, 1945–1950,” American Jewish History 71(1) (1981): 134–149.
Official name: Lov om forbud mot diskriminering på grunn av etnisitet, religion mv. (diskrimineringsloven) (Act prohibiting discrimination on grounds of ethnicity, religion etc. [Discrimination Act]). Known as the law against incitement to racial hatred.
Per Ole Johansen, ed., På siden av rettsoppgjøret (Oslo: Unipub, 2006), 65–66.
Øivind Kopperud and Irene Levin, “Da norske jøder ikke fantes,” Nytt norsk tidsskrift 27(3) (2010): 4.
Johansen, På siden, 48–49. Jon Reitan, Møter med Holocaust. Norske perspektiver på tilintetgjørelsens historiekultur (PhD diss., Norwegian University of Science and Technology, 2016), 119–120.
Torgeir E. Sæveraas, I skyggen mellom trærne. Om krig og ansvar (Oslo: Spartacus, 2018), 275.
In 1951, Wagner was pardoned and expelled from Norway. He received a secure job at a bank in his hometown Bad Godesberg where he resided for the rest of his life. See Odd Bergfald, Hellmuth Reinhard. Soldat eller morder? (Oslo: Chr. Schibsted, 1967), 56–57.
Fred [Alfred] Leopold to Marcus Levin, 10 March 1947, JMO/PA/AS11015/Y1.
Bjarte Bruland, Holocaust i Norge. Registrering, deportasjon, tilintetgjørelse (Oslo: Dreyer, 2017), 33.
Leon Jarner, “ ‘—Jeg har hørt at jødene—’,” VG 29 November 1947.
Marcus Levin to Attorney General, “Ad Høiesteretsdom mot gestapisten Wagner,” 5 April 1947, JMO/PA/AS11015/Y1.
Styret for Det Mosaiske Trossamfund, “Dommen over Wagner. En protest fra jødene,” Arbeiderbladet 12 May 1947.
Bernhard Goldberg, “Er vi norske jøder allikevel av mindre verdi? Et apropos til Wagner-dommen,” Dagbladet 12 May 1947.
Goldberg’s assertation that there was no ‘Jewish problem’ in Norway neglects historical debates like those in Eidsvold in 1814. At that time, proponents of the ‘anti-Jewish clause’ argued for a complete ban on Jews to prevent Norway from becoming a ‘Jewish problem.’
Gunnar Magnus, “Norske jøder I AKTIV INNSATS,” Aftenposten 12 February 1998.
“Månedens gjenstand for oktober 2016,” JMO,
Vibeke K. Banik, Solidaritet og tilhørighet. Norske jøders forhold til Israel 1945–1975 (PhD diss., University of Oslo, 2009), 109.
Mendelsohn, Jødenes historie, 237, 329–334.
“Nå ligger kortene på bordet, sier forsvareren,” Sarpsborg Arbeiderblad 2 September 1947; “Forsvarerne påstår de to tiltalte frifunnet,” Sarpen 2 September 1947.
“Vi visste ikke at vi var soldater,” VG 11 September 1947 in Reitan, Møter med Holocaust, 124.
Leo Eitinger, “De var soldater. Svar til Oskar Hasselknippe av dr. LEO EITINGER,” VG 6 September 1947.
Mats Tangestuen, ed., Krigen, Holocaust og hjemmefronten (Oslo: Dreyer, 2023), 328.
Mendelsohn, Jødene historie, 237, 329–334.
“Typisk rasistisk tankegods.” Expert interviews 29 September 2022 and 10 February 2023.
Aksel Scheer, “Epilog til Feldmann-saken,” Dagbladet 5 September 1947: “Is the reason a conscious or unconscious undervaluing of a certain group of people?” I have not found a response to Goldberg or Scheer in the major newspapers.
“Ola Nordmann” (anonymous) to Bernhard Goldberg, JMO/DMT/D-0022. Banik, Solidaritet og tilhørighet, 102–109.
I.O., “Skammen,” Dagbladet 16 September 1947.
Christhard Hoffmann, “A Fading Consensus? Public Debate on Antisemitism in Norway, 1960 vs. 1983,” in The Shifting Boundaries of Prejudice: Antisemitism and Islamophobia in Contemporary Norway, eds. Christhard Hoffmann and Vibeke Moe (Oslo: Universitetsforlag, 2020); Johansen, Jødefolket, 88–92; Simonsen, I skyggen, 92–102.
K.M.H., “Til våre jødiske medmennesker,” Dagbladet 8 January 1960.
“Hakekors i Oslo, men neppe noen organisert hets,” Arbeiderbladet 4 January 1960.
“Ikke spor av ny-nazisme i Norge,” Morgenbladet 5 January 1960.
Johan Borgen, “Overvåkerne våre,” Dagbladet 12 January 1960, JMO/PA/D00394/0251_0002/DSC_0307.
“«Jeg skal koke såpe av deg»,” Friheten 5 January 1960.
“Skriften på veggen,” NÅ 23 January 1960.
JMO/PA/D00394/0251_0002.
Marcus Levin to Otto Rabl, 27 January 1960, JMO/PA/D00394/0251_0002/DSC_0286.
“Trolig ramp,” Morgenbladet 4 January 1960; “Hakekors i Oslo, men neppe noen organisert hets,” Arbeiderbladet 4 January 1960.
K.E.H. “Ikke antisemittisme i Norge,” Dagbladet 4 September 1952.
To Mosaiska Församlingen i Stockholm and Det Mosaiske Troessamfund i Køpenhavn, “Ad lover mot antisemitisme,” 17 January 1960, JMO/DMT/D30.
Det Mosaiske Troessamfund i Køpenhavn to Harry Koritzinsky, “Forespørsel i skr. 17. ds. Vedr. lov mot antisemittisme,” 19 January 1960, JMO/DMT/D30.
“Utkast. Lov mot hets,” JMO/DMT/D30.
Letter to WJC, Stockholm, 18 January 1960, JMO/DMT/D30; Stortingsforhandlinger 1959/1960 104:7a, 1355; RA/S-3212-Justisdepartmentet, Lovavdelingen, series Dh-Lovgiving/L82-Lover/1/Ot.prp.nr.45 1960–1961, “Om endring av § 135 i den alminnelige borgelige straffelov 1960–1961.”
Marcus Levin to Byråsjef Rysdal, JMO/DMT/D30.
Head of the Criminal Police L’Abée-Lund to the Ministry of Justice and police department, 24 February 1960, JMO/DMT/D30.
On Article 135a, see Helge Årsheim, “Giving Up in the Ghost: On the Decline and Fall of Norwegian Anti-Blasphemy Legislation,” in Blasphemy and Freedom of Expression: Comparative, Theoretical and Historical Reflections after the Charlie Hebdo Massacre, eds. Jeroen Temperman and Andreás Koltay (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 566–573.
“Ot. prp. nr. 45. (1961) om endring av § 135 i den alminnelige borgelige straffelov av 22. mai 1902.”
Otto Rabl, 13 April 1961, JMO/DMT/D31. “[M]en dette uttrykk likte ikke herr Rød (og uttalte samtidig «Det er ikke lett å være jøde i Norge i dag»).”
DMT to Minister of Justice Jens Haugland, “Ad: Otto Rabl,” 13 April 1961, JMO/DMT/D30.
See Kjetil B. Simonsen, “Mellom lov og norm. Antisemittismen i norsk offentlighet etter 1945,” in Ingen frihet uten ytringsfrihet, ed. Arnfinn Pettersen (Oslo: Humanist, 2021), 199–208.
Criminal Police Oslo to Marcus Levin, 31 October 1963, and DMT to Minister of Justice Jens Haugland, 10 July 1963, JMO/DMT/D32.
“Ad: Otto Rabl.”
Marcus Levin to public prosecutor in Oslo, including head of the Criminal Police L’Abée-Lund, 14 September 1963 and Erik Bruun to Firma Bertha Olsens Eftf, 13 September 1963, JMO/DMT/D32.
Oslo Criminal Police to Marcus Levin, 31 October 1963, JMO/DMT/D32; “500 kroner for å si JØDEKJELTRING!,” VG 2 November 1963.
Otto Rabl to Oslo Police, 14 April 1966, JMO/DMT/D34.
Otto Rabl to Oslo Criminal Police, 11 September 1965, and Oslo Criminal Police to Knut Andre Jensen, including Otto Rabl, 8 November 1965, JMO/DMT/D34.
Letter to Otto Rabl, “Ad: anm. mot K.A. Jensen,” 8 December 1965, JMO/DMT/D40.
Tore Johannessen, “Lektor Hoaas slår til før nazi-programmet i TV: ‘Gasskamrene bare oppspinn’,” VG 29 June 1975; Jon O. Egeland, “Nazi-lektor granskes av myndighetene: ‘Hitlers gasskamre har aldri eksistert’,” Dagbladet 4 June 1975.
Simonsen, I skyggen, 103–142, 185–191. See also Ingrid S. Grimstad, Holocaustbenektelse på norsk? En studie av Olav Hoaas sitt ideologiske standpunkt (MA thesis, University of Oslo, 2014), 9–64.
See Herman Sachnowitz, Det angår også deg (Oslo: Cappelen, 1976).
Leif Sem, “For oss er Falstad det norske holocaust.” Ein diskursanalytisk studie av debatten om krigsminnestaden Falstad i 2003–2004 (PhD diss., University of Oslo, 2009), 193.
Mendelsohn, Jødenes historie, 374.
RA/PA874/L29.
Oskar Mendelsohn to WJC, “Neo-Nazism in Norway,” 22 June 1975, RA/PA/874/L24.
The clause held limited practical importance but had a significant propagandistic impact in justifying the persecution and deportation of Norwegian Jews from autumn 1942: Bjarte Bruland, “The 1942 Reinstatement of the Ban on Jews in the Norwegian Constitution,” in The Exclusion of Jews in the Norwegian Constitution of 1814, ed. Christhard Hoffmann (Berlin: Metropol, 2016), 171–190.
Oskar Mendelsohn, “Hoaas saken for Hålogaland Lagmannsrett,” Jødisk Menighetsblad 2 (1976): 8.
Sufficient evidence of his teaching manners presumably culminated. Grimstad, Holocaust benektelse på norsk?, 9–64.
The first example being Herman Sachnowitz’s Det angår også deg (1976). See also Robert Savosnick. Jeg ville ikke dø (Oslo: Cappelen, 1986).
West Germany stood in the forefront of legislation against racism in the 1960s following the ‘Swastika Epidemic.’ See Erik Bleich, The Freedom to be Racist? How the United States and Europe Struggle to Preserve Freedom and Combat Racism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 20–22.
Christhard Hoffmann, ed., The Exclusion of Jews in the Norwegian Constitution of 1814 (Berlin: Metropol, 2016), 13–22.
Richard S. Levy, “The Defense against Antisemitism: Minor Victories, Major Defeats, 1890–1939,” in Comprehending Antisemitism through the Ages: A Historical Perspective, eds., Armin Lange, Kerstin Mayerhofer, Dina Porat, and Lawrence H. Schiffman (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2021), 242.
