Age and family structures among the Jews of Mitau, Kurland, 1833–1834

The article analyzes an 1834 listing of the Jewish inhabitants in the city of Mitau in the province of Kurland, one of the Baltic provinces (the other two were Estland and Livland) of the Russian Empire. From Catherine the Great's reign onward, the Jewish population of the Baltic provinces rose steadily throughout the 19th century, but microstudies of Jewish communities in the region are virtually nonexistent, especially for the first half of the century. The Mitau list shows that the Jewish population there was very young, with about 45% being in the age group 0–14. Age at first marriage for males was about 24 years, and for females 21. From about age 35, 93% of males and 97% of females were married. The mean size of the family group was 5.8 persons, and about a third of all families were either extended (containing unmarried relatives beyond the nuclear family) or multiple (more than one kin-linked conjugal family unit). Judging by kinship terms in the source, the kin system tilted toward patrilineality, as would be expected. These characteristics need to be compared to other Jewish communities before and after 1834—in the Baltic area and surrounding regions—but the paucity of local studies suggests that some time will pass before the Mitau findings can be placed in an adequate comparative framework.     

‘Wandering Jews’? British Jewry,outdoor recreation and the far-left, 1900–1939

During the early twentieth century, scores of second and third generation migrant Jews became deeply involved and interested in outdoor recreation (cycling, camping and rambling) associated with the political far-left in Britain. Amongst politically inspired organisations such as the Clarion Cycling Club, the British Workers' Sports Federation and the Young Communist League, Jews were keen consumers of opportunities for recreation in the British outdoors. This was a growing leisure habit which was zealously protected when threatened and had a significant impact on many Jews' lifestyles and ethnicities. This article will demonstrate that many Jews ‘wandering’ on organised rambles in the Peaks or Chilterns were also ‘wandering’ away from their Jewishness by moving closer, in terms of social, cultural and political lifestyles and identity, to their non-Jewish working-class peers.     

Nixon and the Jews

ABSTRACT

In public the 37th President of the United States did not express hostility or disparagement, or show any signs of religious prejudice towards Jews. But inside the White House, Richard M. Nixon's remarks were often scurrilous. His antisemitism was not casual; it was close to compulsive. And it could be coupled with other seething grievances, for example, towards liberals, radicals, the media, Blacks and Italian-Americans. Yet Nixon controlled his antisemitism. It had no adverse effect on Jewish life, either at home or abroad. The malice that he nurtured remained unmobilized. Apart from a few limited personnel instances (mostly but not completely ignored by Nixon's underlings), it is impossible to connect private resentment to public policy, probably because the barriers to the expression of antisemitism in the United States have been so high. The ugliness of his utterances in the Oval Office revealed his character, but did not extend outward to shape the processes of governance. A disconnect can therefore be discerned between what he felt and how he acted. Most American Jews voted for Nixon's Democratic opponents in 1968 and 1972. But even Jews who voted against him, even those who loathed him, have often acknowledged that Nixon's policies fortified the security of Israel; and he was proud of his support for the Jewish state during the Yom Kippur War. What betrayed Nixon, and what forced him to resign the presidency, was his decision to instal a secret taping system in the Oval Office. When the tapes were played in 1974, he showed himself to be conspiring to obstruct justice. In subsequent years, further exposure of the tapes revealed the extent and intensity of Nixon's antipathy to Jews. The expletives that had to be deleted did much to besmirch the dignity of the office. But such was the stigma the political culture attached to antisemitism that, had his bigotry become public before 1968, Nixon's career would have been over.     

The Alexander memorandum

ABSTRACT

British officials knew a good deal about the upsurge in malignity following the terrible euphoria of the Anschluss in March 1938. Word even reached a British consul working under Sir Frederick Leith-Ross in China. Alexander made his way from the Far East to Germany, the place where he had spent contented days as a student, in order to negotiate the release of a Jewish friend from Dachau. Negotiations were progressing nicely until they were interrupted by the outburst of destructive fury against Germany’s Jews in November 1938. As talks faltered in a febrile atmosphere of Jew-hatred, Alexander used his connections to gain access to a member of the Nazi aristocracy. The British diplomat got more than he bargained for. The senior Nazi made a shocking proposal. He outlined an incredible scheme that, he claimed, would lead to permanent peace between Germany and Britain. His plan uncannily presaged details of the Final Solution three years before its implementation. This information quickly made its way back to London and indeed to the British Foreign Secretary himself, Lord Halifax. So, how would the Foreign Office react? Wallis’s article tells the story of a forgotten memorandum, one that challenges whether theories concerning the limits of the British imagination are sufficient to explain British inaction in the face of massive anti-Jewish persecution and violence.     

Holocaust remembrance in Ukraine: memorialization of the Jewish tragedy at Babi Yar

At the core of the debate in Ukraine about Babi Yar lies the Holocaust. Between 1941 and 1943 1.5 million Jews perished in Ukraine, yet a full understanding of that tragedy has been suppressed consistently by ideologies and interpretations of history that minimize or ignore this tragedy. For Soviet ideologues, admitting to the existence of the Holocaust would have been against the tenet of a “Soviet people” and the aggressive strategy of eliminating national and religious identities. A similar logic of oneness is being applied now in the ideological formation of an independent Ukraine. However, rather than one Soviet people, now there is one Ukrainian people under which numerous historical tragedies are being subsumed, and the unique national tragedies of other peoples on the territory of Ukraine, such as the massive destruction of Jews, is again being suppressed. According to this political idea assiduously advocated most recently during the Yushchenko presidency, the twentieth century in Ukraine was a battle for liberation. Within this new, exclusive history, the Holocaust, again, has found no real place. The author reviews the complicated history regarding the memorialization of the Jewish tragedy in Babi Yar through three broad chronological periods: 1943–1960, 1961–1991, and 1992–2009.     

The limits of analogy: comparing Islamophobia and antisemitism

ABSTRACT

The predicament faced by Muslims today, either in the United Kingdom specifically or in the West more generally, is often compared with the predicament faced by Jews at some point in the past. Muslims, it is suggested, are the new Jews. Klug's article homes in on one element in this view, the claim that Islamophobia is the new antisemitism, and considers the analogy between them. An introductory section sketches the political context, after which Klug focuses on logical or conceptual issues. The two middle sections contain the core of the analysis: consideration of the two terms ‘antisemitism’ and ‘Islamophobia’ in relation to the concepts they denote, followed by an examination of the concepts as such. Certain conclusions are drawn about both their general logic and their specific logics. The final section returns to the political context and, via critique of a thesis put forward by Matti Bunzl, discusses the uses of the analogy. Klug argues that the question we need to ask is not ‘Are Islamophobia and antisemitism analogous?’ but ‘What is the analogy worth?’ The value of the analogy lies in the light it sheds on the social and political realities that confront us in the here and now. Does it illuminate more than it obscures? These things are a matter of judgement. Klug leans towards asserting an analogy between antisemitism in the past and Islamophobia in the present, within limits.     

The image of the Jews in Hungarian public opinion

ABSTRACT

Nowhere has the debate about a ‘new antisemitism’ been as fierce and relevant as in France. In recent years this country has witnessed high recorded levels of antisemitism, prompting many commentators to claim the existence of an anti-sémitisme nouveau. Something has indeed changed, at least in terms of the nature, frequency and perpetrators of antisemitic violence in France. Previously connected exclusively to the extreme right, it has now also become associated with a group that is itself a victim of discrimination: ethnic minority youths living in the poor suburbs (banlieues). Peace first discusses and explains the statistics produced by the French watchdog on racism and antisemitism as well as the effects of the Middle East conflict. He then traces the debate on this ‘new antisemitism’ in the French context, contrasting the views of the label's promoters and opponents. He argues that, while antisemitism has undoubtedly evolved, the ‘new’ label is effectively erroneous as it fuses supposedly leftist and ‘Muslim’ antisemitism into one entity when they are not necessarily linked. In addition, he offers vital clarification of the distinction between anti-Zionism and antisemitism along with suggestions for further research.     

Bedouin-Jewish Relations in the Negev 1943–1948

On the foundation of the first Jewish settlements in the Negev, at the start of the 1940s, the Bedouins welcomed the Jewish settlers. The local personal connections and mutual acquaintance between them created a feeling of closeness. The symbiosis of daily life and mutual help in the fields of personal needs, from medicine to transport, replaced their mutual fears.

However, two factors quickly changed this attitude. The first was a severe drought, which struck the Negev in the winter of 1947, and brought with it a difficult economic situation, followed by several robberies and disputes, and damage to property. The second factor was the incessant encouragement given by the leaders of the Palestinian National Movement to the Bedouins to join the struggle against the Jewish population, especially after the UN decision in November 1947, that is, after the partition of Palestine and the inclusion of the Negev within the borders of the Jewish state.

Most of the Bedouins joined the Palestinian National Struggle. Friends of yesterday became today's enemies. The years 1947–1949 were a period of anarchy, which continued well into the 1950s. In this period the State of Israel was established. Consequently, the Jewish population in the Negev was no longer the party responsible for the relationship with the Bedouins, as the Israeli government took its place. Also contact between neighbors was reduced after the Bedouins were evacuated toward the ‘fence’ region, in the Beer-Sheva Valley. The freedom the Bedouins enjoyed before the war did not exist anymore.     

“Neither angels,nor demons,but humans”: anti-essentialism and its ideological moments among the Russian Zionist intelligentsia

This article shows that anti-essentialism was a pivotal ideological feature of Russian Zionism – the idiom of Zionism that lay behind Russian Zionist periodicals such as Rassvet in Late Imperial Russia. For Russian Zionists, the Jewish nation was the social field that existed as a social fact. While Russian Zionists' concept of the Jewish nation was inevitably influenced by their political context, nonetheless, it was primarily a result of the convergence of the following two ideological movements. First, there emerged a sense that a socioeconomic foundation was crucial in forming a nation. The transformation of Jewish socioeconomic positions in Eastern Europe and Russia was the background of this consciousness. The second is the ideological claim that any collective entity or social field should be respected regardless of its merit and utility vis-à-vis others. More specifically, for Russian Zionists, the Jewish raison d'être was the simple existence of their own social field; they believed that no further definition was required. The emergence of this viewpoint can be understood as a reaction to the Zionists' perception of Jewish history where Jews pursued the recognition and validation of their place among non-Jews by virtue of their merit or utility vis-à-vis non-Jews.     

Beyond East–West: Marginality and National Dignity in Finnish Identity Construction

The popular, stereotype perception of Russian anti-Semitism is marred by a number of misconceptions. It is generally believed that it originated among the peasants, partly as a result of religious bigotry and partly as a reaction against an alleged Jewish exploitation. In actual fact, pogroms almost invariably started in towns and cities, and the main instigators were artisans and merchants and other people who plied the same trade as the Jews, later also professionals such as lawyers. Hence, economic competition rather than exploitation was the most important driving force. This is reflected in the writings of Russian anti-Semites and is also how most contemporary Jews understood their causes behind their ordeals. The Jews could be targeted for persecution because they were a diaspora group and did not enjoy the same protection as the indigenous population. Thus, even though the tsarist regime can be cleared of any suspicion that they deliberately whipped up the pogroms, they contributed to them by failing to give the Jews the same rights as other subjects of the empire.