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Title: A Short Autobiographical Note
Author: David Stetner
Date: April 2000
Language: en
Topics: autobiography, Jewish anarchism
Source: Retrieved on 28th February 2021 from https://www.katesharpleylibrary.net/djhbsd
Notes: From: Bollettino Archivio G. Pinelli No 15, Milan, April 2000 . Translated by: Paul Sharkey.

David Stetner

A Short Autobiographical Note

My family roots were in the Bukovina, a small region at the foot of the

Carpathian mountains. Before the 1914–18 war life was good there… but I

was born in 1914 and unfortunately arrived too late to taste the good

life in the Bukovina. Primarily because my grandfather needed an

operation that could only be carried out in Hungary, the entire family

moved to Budapest which is where I was born. My father found work there

at the pawn and so settled there for good.

We were Jews but of the highly assimilated variety and our ‘Jewishness’

did not mean that much to us. True, on feast days my father would go to

the synagogue but not with any particular enthusiasm, but my mother

preferred avid reading of German literature. Moreover, Hungary in those

days was very tolerant and we lived well.

Things began to change in 1920 when we were deported because of our

nationality; in fact my father was an Austro-Hungarian citizen, but once

the war was over, our native city of Czernowitz was annexed to Rumania

and we became Rumanian nationals.

The situation in Rumania was far from tragic however; indeed the

Rumanians had done away with the social laws and labour laws bequeathed

by the Austrian Empire, laws that were very forward-looking for their

times. And so, at the age of 14, I started work in a textile plant which

is where I first heard workers talking and striking poses, so much so

that I was keen to know more and to educate myself. So I read the works

of Marx, Bakunin, Engels, Proudhon, Tolstoy, Babeuf and lots of others;

all in the German language of which I had a good command.

Remember also that Czernowitz was still feeling the impact of the

October revolution and the sizeable Jewish community was

leftwards-looking, thanks to its being made up largely of workers:

80,000 of the city’s 120,000 inhabitants were Jews and at least 15,000

of those worked in the city’s factories. In 1931 when I was 17, I made

the acquaintance of an extraordinary 50 year old possessed of universal

learning: he used to chat with me about the Kabbalah, Descartes,

Nietzsche and the Talmud. It was through his teaching that I began to

understand anarchism rather than through its history of barricades,

riots and bloody revolutions or through the enunciation of abstract

theories. No; he used to speak to me of a classless society where every

man would be responsible and where no one would have any power over his

neighbours; I had finally stumbled upon the libertarian outlook for

which I had long been blindly groping.

1933 was a crucial year, what with Hitler’s advent to power and we

youngsters were traumatised by what was going on in Germany; we saw

Germany as our main cultural reference point and German anti-Semitism

created a rift between many of my comrades – forced to rediscover their

own Jewish roots, which drew them towards Zionist positions – and those

who, like myself, were left cold because the whole idea of fatherland

played no part in my internationalist anarchist outlook. I wanted to

feel like a citizen of the world. In 1934, after the republic was

declared in Spain, I made up my mind to leave but they would not issue

me with a passport because I had my military service to do. So I decided

to leave clandestinely for Poland, but I was picked up and sent back to

Rumania where a court martial convicted me of desertion. In January 1937

I was released from jail and assigned to my naval fusilier unit in

Galatz, but in June that year I deserted again and spent four months

crossing Europe until I arrived in Paris where I discovered that things

in Spain had gone sour; the anarchists were losing ground to the

Stalinists and the CNT-FAI was no longer looking for volunteers. So I

was left an onlooker far removed from the Spanish tragedy. But in 1939

when France was attacked by the Germans I promptly joined the first

foreign volunteer unit. However, I was demobbed the following year and

things took a turn for the worst for me and my wife Golda, both of us

being political activists and Jewish. We stayed in France, living in

hiding, having no papers. When in 1941 the police started to round up

all the Jews in the 11^(th) arrondissement, it was blatantly obvious

that the time had come for us to clear out, but Golda was arrested at a

checkpoint because of her identity card’s being so obviously a forgery.

She was sentenced to ten months in prison in Caen and so I went to

ground in Paris.

After the war I reestablished contact with the anarchist movement and

along with other militants we decided to publish a Yiddish language

newspaper to communicate with the new influx of Jews coming from eastern

Europe and who could not, as yet, speak French. This was born in 1949

Der Freier Gedank (Free Thought). I had difficulties with this because

my knowledge of Yiddish was poor, but we were greatly helped by Rudolf

Rocker and the editors of the US newspaper Freie Arbeiter Stimme. It was

an exciting experiment that lasted until 1966 when we decided to shut

down the paper because by then the children of our immigrant readership

preferred reading French or English, which means that our paper had

outlived its usefulness.