In the morning of January 13th, 1939, an ocean liner was expected in Montevideo, Uruguay. Days earlier, the SS Conte Grande sailed from Genoa, Italy, carrying approximately 300 European passengers. From this group, many of them were Jews who had received Paraguayan passports in Europe, and who sailed to the new world in an attempt to escape the Nazis. As the ship docked in Montevideo, they learned that their Paraguayan passports were not valid anymore,[1] leaving their hopes and dreams in a state of limbo. For days, these passengers were left wondering about their future in a foreign land, with no country claiming responsibility or offering assistance.

The story of Paraguay as a land that invited and welcomed foreigners started decades before the SS Conte Grande even left the Genovese port. In the earlier decades of the 20th century, the Paraguayan Government adopted a very welcoming immigration policy to rebuild the country after two devastating wars. However, this policy suddenly changed in November of 1938, and would change again a couple of times in opposite directions throughout the war years. What this change in immigration policy meant for those Jewish passengers aboard the SS Conte Grande was that Paraguay would no longer become the place where they could start their lives all over again. Similar to other South American countries at the time, such as Uruguay and Argentina, the adoption of this restrictive immigration policy exposed their own stance in accepting members of the Jewish community when the international conflict in Europe was escalating quickly.

Dealing with its own internal struggles that spilled over its foreign policy, Paraguay´s immigration policy switched back and forth in a span of 20 years. In the final years of the war, and retracting from its 1938 change, Paraguay started issuing passports once more, thus allowing more Jews to emigrate to South America. Unfortunately, this issuing of passports was not only limited to the victims of the Holocaust. As it is widely known, many Nazi officials escaped post-war trials by running away to South America. Perhaps one of the most famous escapees is Adolf Eichmann, a prominent Nazi official who lived in Argentina for several years before being kidnapped and taken to Israel to face trial for the atrocities he committed. Similarly, but with a different outcome, the famous doctor Josef Mengele of Auschwitz, or Angel of Death as he was known, escaped to Argentina and then to Paraguay under the protection of the then dictator of the country, Alfredo Stroessner. He lived in Paraguay using another name, and then moved to Brazil where he died some years after. Like Mengele, there are other Nazi officials who escaped to Paraguay and South America and who, by doing so, shed light on the moral dichotomy in immigration policy in these countries. While domestic politics play a part in this issue, dealing with the uncomfortable reality of having welcomed both Jews who were trying to escape the Holocaust and Nazi officials, leads us to the questions of: How can Paraguay reconcile being a safe haven for victims and perpetrators of the Holocaust? And how does this dichotomy live in the memory of the Jewish community and the larger Paraguayan community?