Desperate to escape the increasingly vehement persecution in their homelands, thousands of refugees from Nazi-dominated Central Europe, the majority of them Jews, found refuge in Latin America in the 1930s. Bolivia became a principal recipient of this influx – one of the few remaining places in the entire world to accept Jewish refugees after the German Anschluss of Austria in 1938. Some 20,000 refugees arrived in Bolivia, more than in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa combined.
In Bolivia, the refugees began to reconstruct a version of the world that they had been forced to abandon. Their own origins and social situations had been diverse in Central Europe, ranging across generational, class, educational, and political differences, and incorporating various professional, craft, and artistic backgrounds. But it was Austro/German Jewish bourgeois society that provided them with a model for emulation and a common locus for identification in their place of refuge. Indeed, at the very time when that dynamic social and cultural amalgam was being ruthlessly and systematically destroyed by the Nazis, the Jewish refugees in Bolivia attempted to recall and revive a version of it in a land thousands of miles from their home: in a country that offered them a haven, but in which many of them felt themselves as mere sojourners.
Hotel Bolivia explores an important, but generally neglected, aspect of the experience of group displacement — the relationship between memory and cultural survival during an era of persecution and genocide. Employing oral histories, family photographs, artistic and documentary portrayals, it considers the Third Reich background for the emigration, the refugees’ perceptions of past and future, and the role of images and stereotypes in shaping refugee and Bolivian cross-cultural communication and acceptance. It examines how the immigrants remembered, recalled and reshaped the European world they had been forced to abandon in the institutions, culture, and community they created in Bolivia. In documenting life stories and reclaiming the memories and discourses of ordinary persons who might otherwise remain hidden from history, Hotel Bolivia contributes to a major objective of contemporary historical studies. But it is also directly concerned with theoretical issues, increasingly evident in historical writing, focusing on the contextualization of memory and the interdependence – and tension – between memory and history. In reflecting on remembered experience, over time and between people, the ultimate objective of this book is to contribute to the historical study of memory itself.
“A curiously inspiring corner of Holocaust history: the story is of how culture and memory survive, and change, in the shock of new surroundings.” — Adam Hochschild, author of King Leopold’s Ghost
“A form of doing history that offers fresh intellectual insights while touching the heart.” — Ruth Behar, University of Michigan, author of The Vulnerable Observer and Translated Women
“It is rare that a scholarly book reads like a novel. Leo Spitzer’s compelling Hotel Bolivia not only is beautifully written but changes the way we think about history... This groundbreaking book will become required reading in numerous fields, including Latin American studies, Jewish studies, diaspora studies, immigration studies, and ethnic studies.” — Jeffrey Lesser, Brown University, author of Welcoming the Undesirables: Brazil and the Jewish Question
“Evocative, thoughtful, and otherwise impressive... Vividly introduces readers to a little-known aspect of refugee history during the Holocaust.” — Kirkus
“A searing account of the Jewish refugees’ checkered experience...
My grandparents were part of the group described in this book, survivors who escaped from the concentration camps who took refuge in Bolivia from the war, where my mother was eventually born and raised. Given the personal connection I found it fascinating.
Having had people in my childhood who were jew refugees and very close to me, I felt drawn to this story. I wanted to know why of all the places in the world, Bolivia could have brought so many jew refugees during World War II. This book certainly eased my curiosity. Spitzer gives us two types of content in this book, that of the stories - including his- of Jews that immigrated during those times and a sociological analysis of the perceptions, memories, and feelings immigrants would have had. I didn't enjoy the latter that much. I like stories but not this type of analysis. Maybe if I were into the field, but I'm far from it. I was drawn into the story itself- that part that told about the world's situation, the Bolivian one, and the interviews of immigrants. Those were the parts of the book that I looked forward to. I understand, however, that the author is also an academic and wanted to reflect this type of analysis.
We learn why immigrants called it Hotel Bolivia, the reasons why they choose this country, their impressions when they arrived, their struggles, how they survived, their relationships with locals, and the Bolivian political environment of that time. The latter played an important role in their decision to stay or immigrate elsewhere after the war.
As a Bolivian, I also learned with sadness that there was also antisemitism in some parts of the society of those times. And although I knew about the german community's contribution to the development of very big companies in Bolivia, I never imagined there would be a hidden clash when Jew immigrants arrived.
I believe this is a story all Bolivians should read. It doesn't matter if they never met a Jew immigrant or descendant. It has a very important part of our story from the point of view of foreign people that came here to look for refuge, people that decided to make this country their second home. Definitely recommended.
There was likely no more dramatic place for Jews fleeing the holocaust to end up than Bolivia. But for a small group, that unlikely land is exactly where they found refuge from Hitler’s wickedness. The crevice in the high Andes in which is nestled La Paz, the Altiplano – that massive highland valley which once held the greatest of all civilizations. The Yungus, a tropical lowland jungle where they tried their hand at farming. Cochabamba or Santa Cruz. They called it “Hotel Bolivia“, because they did not intent to stay there. It was too foreign; for the Jews of Austria trading Vienna with its opera houses and elegant restaurants for coca leaves and the immutable gaze of the Aymara – they were nonetheless grateful for a modicum of safety in a world that had become perilous.
This book is a story of refuge by an Austrian Jew born in La Paz. Nostalgia and sorrow and stress mingled with relief and gratitude. The tale of the Jewish people is so extraordinary, of suffering and resilience and the struggle to be free. And this book was extremely moving for all these reasons; but also because in a microcosm of one family it showed the difficulties and the loss of millions upon millions of people.
There is still a small community of Jews in La Paz, despite the instability of the last 80 years in that Andean nation and their flirtations with dictatorship and violence and even some racist laws of their own. While most have left “Hotel Bolivia” for greener pastures in places like Argentina or the United States – or back to Austria – many, perhaps 1000 have stayed on and continue to meet in Confiteria Elis to exchange stories and to remember, until that day when they make their final journey to the Jewish cemetery in La Paz to join their parents and grandparents who found safety tucked away in the Andes mountains.
This book, for the most part, held my interest with its interweaving of personal narratives and historical details. I happened upon it by accident, while researching Bolivia, and discovered a Holocaust story not often taught: that of the experiences of those who managed to escape before the genocide began. Though I have learned about post-Holocaust refugees, it never occurred to me to think of those who got out before the Final Solution as refugees as well. This was an eye-opening, fascinating read. I'm glad I found it.
An interesting book about the role Bolivia took in allowing more refugees from Germany and Eastern Europe fleeing the Nazis (largely but not entirely Jewish) than any other Latin American country - something I did not know. The author, who was born in Bolivia of parents who had fled Vienna, both writes about his family and those he could interview many years later about their experience but also about larger issues of identity. As someone who has visited Bolivia recently, I found this book fascinating.
About resettling Jewish refugees from Europe during World War II into Bolivia. The first chapter is about the horrific ways these people were treated by their countrymen in Europe and why they needed to escape. Afterwards, the book becomes very dry about how they came to be settled in Bolivia with no money, no language skills with the native population and little resourcefulness.
Was looking for more facts rather than a deep dive into the author's feelings. A bit dense and romantic stylistically, but still a good piece on an under the radar piece of history and migration as a concept.
"Indeed, in the panic months following the German Anschluss of Austria in March 1938 and Kristallnacht in November of that year, Bolivia was one of very few remaining places in the entire world to accept Jewish refugees. In the short period between then and the end of the first year of World War II, some twenty thousand refugees, primarily from Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia, entered Bolivia-more than in Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and India combined. When the war ended, a second, smaller wave of immigrants, mostly Eastern European Holocaust surviviors and displaced relatives of previous refugees, arrived in Bolivia."
"There is certainly irony, if not injustice, in the fact that for many Europeans and North Americans, Bolivia has acquired a reputation primarily as a place sheltering Nazi war criminals, while its role as a saving haven for thousands of Jewish and non-Jewish refugees and displaced persons is vitually unrecognized, if not unknown. In part, this is explained by the widespread lack of knowledge by "outsiders" of Bolivian history and politics, and by even less awareness (or considerable underestimation)of the importance of South America in general, and Bolivia in particular, for refugee and postwar "displaced-person" immigration. But it also reflects the international publicity generated since the early 1960's by the "discovery" of a number of war criminals in South America-especially, in the case of Bolivia, by the identification of Klaus Barbie there and by his extradition and trial in France." (175)
Both enlightening and disturbing, Hotel Bolivia is an account of the lives of German refugees in Bolivia during WW II.
The author draws heavily on interviews with and documents from his family. His parents emigrated to Bolivia during the war and he was born shortly after their arrival.
The prose is dense and, at times, difficult to navigate. But the topic is riveting. The reader is provided with enough details about the encroachment of Nazi Germany to provoke reflection of the "what would I do?" nature. How easy it is in hindsight to wonder about people who didn't leave when they had the chance. But the noose tightened slowly and most of us are inclined to cling to our homeland until things become truly dire.
As with all history, the story is relevant to events in our current world. Maybe even give some pause regarding the current flood of refugees seeking the freedom to just be without the fear of violence and death for who they are.
It is better than I epected, it not only nicely tells a niche part of history, but summarizes a lot of important theory of refugee studies in a readable way. Perhaps a little too much personal sentimentalism and family history.