FRONTLINES DETROIT'S HIGHEST RATES Professor Seeks More Positions At Technion For Soviet Jews ELIZABETH KAPLAN Staff Writer F 8.200% 8.456% 12 MONTH CERTIFICATE OF DEPOSIT Effective Annual Yield* Minimum Deposit of $500 8.300% 8.562% Effective Annual Yield* Minimum Deposit of $75,000 'Compounded Quarterly Rates subject to change without notice This is a fixed rate account that is in sured to $100,000 by the Federal Sav- ings and Loan Insurance Corporation (FSLIC). Substantial Interest Penalty for early withdrawal from certificate accounts. FIRST SECURITY Y MAIN OFFICE 1760 Telegraph Rd. (Just South of Orchard lake) BANK FSB PHONE 338.7700 352.7700 OUAl HOUSING OPPORTUNITY 14 FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1988 HOU RS: MON.-THURS. 9:30-430 FRI. 9:30-6:00 1 or the first time in his life mathematics pro- fessor Alexander Ioffe has his own office. Located in the Technion, Israel's institute of technology, the office is filled with modern supplies that amaze the former refusenik. "All the equipment — from pencils to computers — is in much better condition than anything in the Soviet Union," he said. "It's the first time I go to work with pleasure?' Ten years ago, Ioffe was ap- pointed professor in absentia at the Thchnion. He had been fired from his position at Moscow University after he applied in December 1976 to immigrate to Israel. Last January, Ioffe received permission to leave the Soviet Union. He came directly to Israel and began working at the Technion. A guest of the American Society for Thchnion, Ioffe was in Detroit recently to help raise funds to establish posi- tions at the Technion for qualified Soviet Jews. Ioffe believes much of the credit for his release belongs to scientists and mathemati- cians like Zvi Ziegler, dean of the Thchnion graduate school. "They were helpful ab- solutely," Ioffe said. "I am sure they made a difference in my getting out?' Now, Ioffe is working to bring other Soviet Jews with technical expertise to Israel. He said more Soviet Jews would come to Israel if they were guaranteed jobs in their professions. Ioffe's own son, Dimitri, is a doctoral candidate in the math department at the Thchnion. Ioffe was raised in a home he described as "absolutely assimilated. I always knew I was Jewish, but just that and nothing beyond that?' His father, an engineer, was a member of the Communist Party. His mother also was a loyal communist. Only Ioffe's grandmother retained remnants of her Jewish heritage. Ioffe remembers her preparing and baking for Shabbat, but points out she had no Jewish ritual objects in her home. Ioffe said this secular upbr- inging is typical for many Soviet Jews, but it puts them in a curious position. "We are perfectly the same Alexander Ioffe: Better conditions. as our Russian counterparts. We know Russian culture and tradition," he said. "But the word 'Jew' is writ- ten in our passports, and that factor influences everything from if we are able to find a job to if we will be able to con- tinue our education." Ioffe might have opted for life without Judaism. In fact, he did just that for many years. During the 1950s and 1960s, Ioffe said, he and his wife led a secular existence, "and we were completely in that life." His links to Judaism chang- ed in 1967, just after the Six- Day War. Like many other refuseniks, Ioffe was deeply affected by the war. He said he felt a new pride in the State of Israel and in the Jewish people. And because of these positive feelings — not because he was a victim of anti-Semitism — Ioffe decided to request a visa for Israel. Before filing to emigrate, he was satisfied with his career at Moscow University. He published numerous articles and enjoyed his teaching. Like other Soviet citizens he was not permitted to travel outside the Communist bloc and consequently missed many conferences. "But in other respects, it wasn't bad," he said. After he requested permis- sion to leave the Soviet Union, Ioffe's professional and social status changed drastically. He knew it would. "Applying to emigrate means cutting off all ties," he said. Ioffe feels he was fortunate, though, because he was only demoted at work. His salary was cut, and the only class he was allowed to teach was a refresher course for engineers. The professor believes the certainty of international outrage was the one thing that stopped Soviet authorities from firing him. Although he was not work- ing at the university, Ioffe's days remained busy. He con- tinued his work at home, and his life as a refusenik made many demands on his time. "Being a refusenik is a sort of profession itself," he said. "It takes lots of struggle, lots of strength." Ioffe's career was not the on- ly thing lost because of his desire to live in Israel. He also lost his relationships with many of his colleagues at the university. Even those with whom he remained friends did not speak out in his behalf, but Ioffe bears no grudges. "Just keeping relations (with one who, applies to emigrate) re- quires enough courage," he said. Initially Ioffe's parents, and those of his wife, were oppos- ed to their children's decision to emigrate. They were not hostile to Israel, he said, but having their children move there "Being a refusenik is a sort of profession itself," he said. "It takes lots of struggle, lots of strength." was "such an alien idea to them?' "Every Jew in the Soviet Union has some interest in what happens in Israel," he said. "But it's one thing to sit at home in your room and talk about it. It's another thing when your children want to go there." It took 12 years before Ioffe received his exit visa, and he left at a time when "official anti-Semitism is definitely decreasing" he said. Ioffe said the policies of Soviet leader Mikhail Gor- bachev will likely result in improvements for Jews in the country. Yet not for a moment would he return. "Even if things get better, I don't want to be there?" he said. "There's no way I'd ever go back.