Anti-Semitism and Zionism Author(S): Anita Shapira Reviewed Work(S): Source: Modern Judaism, Vol

Anti-Semitism and Zionism Author(s): Anita Shapira Reviewed work(s): Source: Modern Judaism, Vol. 15, No. 3 (Oct., 1995), pp. 215-232 Published by: Oxford University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1396227 . Accessed: 01/10/2012 13:40

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http://www.jstor.org Anita Shapira

ANTI-SEMITISM AND ZIONISM

"Anti-Semitismbegat Herzl, Herzl begat the Jewish state, the Jewish state begat 'Zionism,' and Zionism -the Congress." In that terse sarcastic for- mulation, Ahad Ha-Am compressed the basic essentials of Herzl's teach- ings.1 Nathan Birnbaum observed: "A Zionism that has no better foundation than anti-Semitism is doomed to failure, its fate sealed right from the very start."2And even Micah Joseph Berdyezewski, who was os- tensibly inspired by other intellectual sources, declared: "In my view, there is no more supine form of submission than when an entire people bases its very being on the attitudes that others have toward it!"3 These quotes from the writings of Zionist thinkers serve to highlight the difficulty that was perceived by the pristine Jewish national movement in predicating its identity on a negative principle-namely, the hatred of the Jewish people. The desire for a positive and creative pole which could function as the anchor of a newJewish national identity was reflected in the search for intrinsic properties that might provide the Zionist cause with the magic and attraction of other national movements in Europe. Those movements had set out on the tortuous path to political independence by combing their past for serviceable models of genuine national culture and historical uniqueness. This quest ulti- mately gave rise to Hebrew secular culture and the rich intellectual upsurge that accompanied Zionist practical creative political activity. However, it is doubtful whether the approach adopted by some Zionist thinkers in dismissing the role of anti-Semitism as a formative factor in the Jewish national movement, as in the quotations above, was based on sound grounds. From today's vantage, we are in a better position to examine and assess the intricate web of reciprocal relations between anti- Semitism and the development of the Zionist movement and arrive at a more balanced and accurate picture. It is common knowledge that a prominent number of Zionists in the formative phase of the movement, in particular Herzl himself, had ini- tially come to Zionism out of despair over assimilation as a collective solution for the survival of the Jewish people in Europe. That despera- tion was fueled by the emergence of the anti-Semitic movement. In Her- zl's view, it was anti-Semitism which had given the Zionist idea a raison d'etre-both from the Jewish perspective, and that of non-Jews. Mount-

ModernJudaism 15 (1995): 215-232 ? 1995 by TheJohns Hopkins University Press 216 Anita Shapira ing anti-Semitism compelled Jews to confront the fact that they were a people in and for themselves. It impelled non-Jews to recognize that Eu- ropean society was experiencing a dissonance between conscious liberal aspirations and the covert desires of the masses. Those masses secretly wished to remove from their midst all those they considered to be an "alien body." This formed the basis of a mutual interest in finding a solution to the Jewish problem. Herzl defined anti-Semitism as the steam that was driving the engine of change, a propellant that would transform the Zionist idea from the private fancy of a tiny contingent of dreamers and idlers into a political force capable of restructuring the existence of the Jewish people.4 It goes without saying that the roots of the Zionist idea ran deep, nourished by thousands of years of Jewish history. But the transition from the state of a "potential" to "actual"force came about in specific response to the phenomenon of aggravated anti-Semitism, as Jews became increasingly disillusioned about the prospects for assimilat- ing into European society. This view of the interaction between anti-Semitism and Zionism now is a generally accepted conception: Jewish national consciousness was repeatedly honed and sharpened by the confrontation with modern anti-Semitism. It is hard to imagine any mass immigration to Palestine before or after the establishment of the state in which the motive of anti- Semitism did not play a decisive role. In the competitive interplay between the gravitational "pull" of Eretz Yisrael and the "push" from the Diaspora, the latter vector proved stronger. This does not imply that the force of attraction was non-existent, but over the last 100 years, the factor of diasporic push appears to have been a more powerful motive force. This fact often prompted anti-Zionists to contend that Zionists were actually encouraging anti-Semitism; they rejoiced in its continued inten- sification, since Jew-hatred validated the Zionist cause, confirming the solution it proposed to Jewish distress. To substantiate that claim, anti- Zionists produced evidence to show that in order to rescue Jews, prominent Zionist leaders had been prepared to accept assistance even from anti-Semites. Thus, Herzl was denounced for his ties with Plehve, who was believed to have instigated the pogrom in Kishinev in 1903; Jabotinksy was derided for his contacts with Slawinsky, a minister in the pogrom-drenched regime of Petlyura in the Ukraine. Arlosoroff was criticized for his part in the transfer agreement signed with the Nazi regime, and the Revisionists for their links with the anti-Semitic Beck government in Poland. These charges, which also sparked internal clashes within the Zionist camp itself, were raised more strongly and frequently in the wake of the Holocaust; they were also exacerbated in reaction to certain occurrences in Arab states allegedly inspired by the Anti-Semitism and Zionism 217

Israeli secret service. The dramatic, emotionally loaded nature of such accusations assured they would have a substantial public echo. Yet it should be emphasized that in the final analysis, although these pur- ported "contacts with anti-Semites" formed a component in the domi- nant ideology, they were basically marginal to the mainstream of Zionist experience. The complicated knot of reciprocal relations between the Jewish national movement and anti-Semitism goes far beyond this specific question regarding the various ways through which the Zionist movement presumably exploited the anti-Semitic antipode in order to ad- vance what it regarded as the national interest. The overt contacts and other activity mentioned is virtually self-explanatory, and has been a topic of open discussion since the beginning of this century. But there were other more submerged, less visible forms of interaction, and these pose quite complex methodological questions. The encounter between anti-Semitism and the Jewish people in the second half of the 19th century took place in the open vistas of Euro- pean civilization. That aspect sets this encounter apart from earlier Jew- ish confrontations with Jew-hatred. The exposure of Jewish society to anti-Semitism was part of the process of opening up to the modern world. As long as Jews continued to live in the closed world of the ghetto, the psychological impact of Jew-hatred on them was minimal. The ghetto Jew did not regard the Gentile as a discussion partner-his views carried little weight; his world did not represent a model to emulate or a yardstick for self-assessment. The vituperative criticism of Jew- ish society, customs, physical characteristics and mentality, and even the stereotypical images of the Jew rife outside the ghetto walls, did not pen- etrate into the self-enclosed world of the Jewish quarter. However, by the end of the 19th century, a new situation had arisen: in those areas of Europe where Jews were exposed to modern influence and inroads, they were also vulnerable to criticism stemming from the non-Jewish society in whose midst they lived. Modern or even quasi- modern Jews-i.e., those who recognized the importance of secular knowledge and the need to find a modus vivendi in the non-Jewish world-were no longer immune to Gentile criticism ofJewish traits and customs. Intense, angry feelings of insult, resentment and rage in response to the humiliations heaped upon them by the Gentile moulded the Jewish psyche and their picture of the world. Concurrently, a tendency crystallized among Jews to adopt and internalizea portion of that vitriolic critique. As a general rule, modernized Jews liked to attribute the sins which anti-Semites accused Jews of to their more tradition- minded fellowJews still unaware of the many positive things the Western world had to offer. One could see this, for example, in the attitude among already modernized German Jews toward their compatriots ar- 218 Anita Shapira riving from Eastern Europe-Ostjuden who still spoke Yiddish, wore traditional Jewish garb, were loud and did not take sufficient pains to ad- here to the code of conduct generally accepted among the Central European petty bourgeoisie. Such attitudes were also evident in Zionism, which served as one of the mediating movements between Jews and the modern world. The Zionists wished to transform the existential situation of the Jews as a minority scattered among the world's nations by creating a territorial base in Palestine, changing Jewish socioeconomic structures and sparking a cultural renaissance. Like other revolutionary movements, the Zionist project began by criticising the present in terms of an envisioned utopian alternative. It is necessary to examine whether anti-Semitic claims and charges current at the time were appropriated by Zionists and utilized as paradigms for a critique of the Jewish situation. In other words:did anti-Semiticstereotypes feed into Zionistthinking on questionsregard- ing theJewish past and present-and even the projectedfuture of theJewish people? Anti-Semitism spurredJews to return to the principle of the nation, retreating from the expansive universalist realms they had ventured out into during the age of emancipation. It encouraged Jews to cast aside the national identity of the peoples amongst whom they dwelled, galva- nizing a new awareness ofJewish nationalism. In comparison with other Jewish responses to anti-Semitism, the uniqueness of Zionism lay in its acceptance of the basic anti-Semitic tenet that Jews constituted a "for- eign body" in the national fabric of the peoples of Europe-a body that could never be assimilated. Preceding from that assumption, Zionism drew a set of radical conclusions. Shmuel Almog has recently spoken of an "act of conversion" in connection with the sense of illumination experienced byJews who suddenly "saw the light," so to speak, of "Zionist truth."A veil is lifted from their eyes, and they can speak honestly and openly aboutJewish failings and weaknesses. This was a candor they had never permitted themselves as long as they still believed that the Jewish problem might someday be solved within the framework of Europe's nations.5 A typical example of this attitude can be found in Berdyezewski's views on the historian Heinrich von Treitschke. Treitschke's caustic at- tack on Heinrich Heine and Ludwig B6rne, characterizing them as Jew- ish writers, in contrast with "authentic German" creative writers, had triggered a tidal wave of outrage among the Jewish community, and nu- merous indignant essays published to refute the claims. Despite all this, Berdyezewski contended that though Treitschke's critique may have been overstated, he was basically right in his analysis, since he had called attention to those same aspects which Jews themselves regarded as being characteristically Jewish, singling them out as "non-German" Anti-Semitism and Zionism 219 features.6 In analyzing Berdyezewski's youthful critical stance toward his people, Yosef Chaim Brenner noted: "This man of Israel is not afraid to point to the many breaches that have appeared in our walls, to call all the diseases by name and to disclose the entire truth that was revealed to him. It is fair to conclude from this that he is certain this is worth the effort, that his action will be rewarded."7 To address the nature of the Jewish people in the past and present freely and openly, just as one saw it, exceeded the bounds of what had been previously acceptable in Jewish self-criticism. Jews who called for modernization of their fellow Jews within the framework of European society could not permit themselves to point to negative characteristics of Jews as a collectivity, since they did not wish to recognize the existence of that collective. For that same reason, they did not venture to point out thatJews lacked certain traits and features. Yet if you believed thatJewish minority status was in itself a denigrating situation, then the path lay open to developing a far more trenchant critique. It is possible to distinguish various different levels in this critical tack; they ranged from earthy generalizing vernacular sayings such as "a small, and a dis- gusting people" ("a klayn folk, a mies folk," attributed to Shmaryahu Levin) to a critique of certain specific "Jewish"characteristics, extend- ing all the way to the call for a radical comprehensive restructuring of the image of the Jew and Jewish lifeways. Several inherent methodological problems warrant further exami- nation. One complex involves the dividing line between legitimate criticism and manifestations of anti-Semitism. How can we effectively distinguish between intentional criticism -e.g., what secularizing Jews had to say about the traditional religious community, meant as a legitimate call for modernization-and criticism containing anti-Semitic un- dertones? Are we not opening the door to the charge that all criticism of Jews is basically a reflection of anti-Semitism? Where is the line separat- ing normative criticism, no matter how biting and bitter, from what is la- belled "Jewish self-hatred"? Does the Zionist conception, aspiring to a national solution for the Jewish people, serve as some sort of shield, pro- tecting its adherents from the species of "self-hatred" that leads to a negation of the very existence of the Jewish people, and even of Jews as individuals? Another problem involves the history of ideas, the matrix of specific conceptions. The Jewish national movement derived most of its diverse concepts and paradigms from the conceptual arsenal of the European national and social movements. Yet this same fruitful reservoir was also tapped at the same time by the anti-Semitic movements. Do the images, stereotypes and myths common to both Zionists and anti-Semites point to dynamic interaction between the two currents, or rather to a common shared source of inspiration? It is useful to recall that, consciously 220 Anita Shapira or not, there has been a constant dialogue since the end of the 19th century between the anti-Semitic movement and the Jewish national movement-via a third agency, so to speak. And although the Zionists did not really intend to respond to the aspersions of the anti-Semites, and often wished to ignore them, they felt a certain psychological need to answer anti-Semitic slurs in their own way. The fact that both Zionists and anti-Semites drew upon a common reservoir of ideas and images shared by the national movements in Europe was one of the principal expressions of this indirect discourse. The salient dividing line between pathological manifestations of self-hatred and fragments of anti-Semitic ideas, images and stereotypes that have permeated into the thinking and mythology of Zionism from a shared European conceptual reservoir is that of the demonizationof the Jews. As long as criticism remained in the domain of rational discourse, focusing on positive attractive attributes contrasted with negative repul- sive ones, such arguments and images could be accepted by the Zionist camp. This also includes the optimistic (and thus positive) Zionist view of negative Jewish traits: these are not inherent racial characteristics, but are the social product of the distorted conditions of life prevailing in the Diaspora-nurture, not nature. "Now, after its wings have been clipped, they accuse that eagle, which once soared to the heavens and saw God, of not flying high enough," Pinsker protested in mordant response to the slanderers of theJewish people.8 Even more, Zionism as- serts it has the proper and effective final remedy for the sorry predicament: the drama has a happy ending, it is not a tragedy. But criticism degenerates into a perversion of self-hatred when elements attributing demonicfeatures to the Jews enter the picture, such as the fanatic belief in the omnipotent power of "Jewishcapital"-or of an allegedJewish "worldconspiracy," intertwined with the tenets of biological- racist determinism, thus excluding the possibility of any change. In the middle ground between these two poles lies a broad grey area where ideas and images derived from Jew-hatred can continue to exist, recon- stituted intoJewish national conceptions.

THE PROCESSOF RECONDITIONING

Anti-Semites heaped opprobrium on the Jews as a vile and odious people, a nation without honor. The subject of the lost honor of the Jewish people-their Ehreor khavod-is one of the central foci in the concep- tional world of Zionist leaders who came to Zionism via the path of assimilation, particularly those of the first generation. More exposed, due to their position in the larger encompassing society, to statements by non-Jews regarding the Jewish problem, they came to place a supernu- Anti-Semitism and Zionism 221 merary value on external comportment and manners, and wished to do away with the cultural differences in responses by Jews vs. non-Jews when their personal honor was violated. In dramas by Herzl and Nor- dau, the need for protagonists to die a so-called "hero's death" in a gen- tlemen's duel in order to defend the "honor of their people" is rooted in the authors' conception of the surrounding non-Jewish society and the position of the Jews viewed from the perspective of the non-Jew. Among Jews, physical bravery was not a generally espoused ideal. However, the Zionist movement, following other national movements, adopted valor as a desired goal. At the same time, it accepted the patently anti-Semitic image of the Jews as a nation of cowards and weaklings. Nathan Birn- baum recounts a whole series of negative characteristics the anti-Semites accuse theJews of, "not unjustifiably":"the lack of personal courage and self-respect, tactlessness and no sense of aesthetics."9The view which concurred in anti-Semitic stereotypes of character traits allegedly absent among Jews, assuming that lack was an undeniable fact, stemmed from the fervent wish among Zionists that Jews should develop those same "missing" virtues. When Herzl planned the modern "exodus" of Jews from Europe, he was fearful of the prospect of financial scandal, such as had occurred a few years earlier in Panama, where some Jews had indeed been implicated. Herzl tried to ensure that the modern Jewish exodus would be conducted in a "respectable" way-a dignified manner that would prevent the detractors of the Jews from deriding them as scoundrels and charlatans. Herzl continues: "After all, through us their world shall be acquainted with something that has not been considered possible in 2,000 years:Jewish honor."'0 Max Nordau wished to counter the contempt anti-Semites had for Jewish physical abilities. He accepted as self-evident the anti-Semitic stereotype then in common currency: Jews were over-endowed intellec- tually, but suffered from a corresponding deficiency in physical skills. Nordau wished to remedy that by fostering a so-called "Judaism of the muscles" (Muskeljudentum).Here then was a gymnastic plank in the new political platform. The norm of physical activity was embraced by the Zionist movement since it embodied a principle esteemed by non-Jews. Moreover, it also cherished the hope that strong, muscular, athletic Jews might serve as a suitable response to refute anti-Semitic claims about the supposed physical inferiority of the Jewish race." The anti-Semites deprecated the Jews as parasites unable to exist unless they could feed on the host body. Among other things, the creation of a separate and autonomous, self-supporting Jewish state was in- tended as a response to these accusations of parasitism, and as a vivid demonstration to the world community that the Jews were indeed a people able to build a modern state-just as the Germanic peoples had done. The anti-Semitic charge, echoed by Pinsker, that the Jews were a 222 Anita Shapira guest nation, never a host, was based on the reality of Jewish life in the Diaspora. Indeed, it is true that the state-building skills of the Jews had not been tested over long centuries of exile. Now Nordau wished "to prove that his people-no less so than other peoples rightfully proud of the fact-was gifted with the talents needed to maintain political organ- isms."12 Herzl accepted as self-evident the anti-Semitic claim that Jewish society was disproportionately middle-class, and had too large an intelligentsia. He shared the view that revolutionary unrest in Europe could be attributed to the influence of a frustrated and rootless Jewish intellectual class unable to find its proper place in society. This was a political accusation commonly voiced by anti-Semites at the time; in their eyes, Jews were subversive radicals, undermining the existing order in Europe. The solution in Herzl's view-again in that same vein-was for this discontentJewish intelligentsia to redirect its energies toward a con- structive goal, namely the building of a state of its own.'3 As modern Jewish nationalism crystallized, it began to search for vi- able conceptions of identity. There were two diametrically opposed types of European nationalism. One was voluntary-rationalist, i.e., nationalism predicated on the free choice of the citizen who decides to be a part of the nation. A second species, organic nationalism, was based on a different set of autochthonous criteria: shared ethnic origin, culture and history. Organic nationalism was predestined, decreed by history-the individual could not break free from its bonds by conscious choice. This brand of nationalism excluded Jews from belonging to Eu- ropean nations, by dint of biological determinism. In an irony of history, the Jews opted for the organic model of nationalism as their paradigm. They lacked the essential attributes of sovereignty and territory which are prerequisites for the voluntary- nationalist model. Moreover, the link to the ancientJewish past and to a mythological homeland loomed large in their incipient national ethos, because there was no existing political reality in which they might ground their nationalism. A reinvigorated Jewish history and culture were the foundations of the new Jewish nationalism. Thus, it is not surprising that this new national identity included components that clearly paralleled various anti-Semitic allegations. As an instructive example of this process, one can cite certain Zion- ist circles that were quite distant from chauvinist or ultra-nationalist conceptions. Martin Buber, for example, drew on organicist notions in defining the national idea: "When a people singles out its unity, internal solidarity, the nature of its history, its traditions, genesis and development, destiny and mission, elevating them to a focus of purpose and reason for its will, then we can speak of a national idea."'4Buber makes clear reference to the myth of a people, forged during a singular histor- Anti-Semitism and Zionism 223 ical moment, of national destiny springing from the mystical bond between blood and soil, the "solidarity between man and the soil, de- posited as an eternal teaching in the historical foundations of the people-that is the decisive quality of Yisrael in relation with its land."'5 Such quasi-mystical notions were current among certain circles of young educated Jews in German-speaking Europe at the beginning of the 20th century. For many of them, it represented the redemptive route back from German acculturation to theirJewish roots. They em- barked on a search for a new identity to replace the one they had ac- quired, now shaken as a result of anti-Semitism. Gershom Scholem does not specifically point to anti-Semitism as one of the underlying causes of his own identity crisis that galvanized him into looking for aJewish identity. Nonetheless, in describing the alienation between him and his family, what stands out most is his sense of the basic hypocrisy of the way they lived. His father believed he was a true German, yet non-Jews never visited their home. The elder Scholem despised and kept his distance from anything that smacked of Jews and Judaism. He also ignored the seriousness of the anti-Semitism then on the rise in Germany: he with- drew from active participation in an athletic association that had become anti-Semitic, yet retained his formal membership, and continued to attribute to himself a borrowed German identity. Gershom Scholem accuses his parental family of pretense, hypocrisy and duplicity in ape- ing the ways of the German middle class. Such accusations were indeed commonly voiced anti-Semitic criticisms of Jews who had assimiliated into the broader Gentile society. Scholem's search for an authentic self led him to aJewish identity based on concepts closely parallel to those of Buber: a cultural and historical essence, founded on a mythical and mystical link with an ancient homeland. It is true that Scholem rejected romanticism in all its config- urations, and regarded the study of Jewish texts as a kind of protective vaccine against the virus of metaphysical escapism. Yet coupled with this stance was an antithetical element: his national concept of identity had been nourished by the same organicist sources that Buber, Hugo Bergmann and their associates drew inspiration from.16 Even the basic idea of Ahad Ha-Am concerning the "instinct for national survival,"which in his analysis supplanted religion as the linchpin holding the people together, was conceptually linked to organic nationalism. It was that desire which had preserved the Jewish people, in the fact of all adversity, for thousands of years. Ahad Ha-Am's notion of the nation is reminiscent of the concept of Volksgeist,the "spirit of the people," in the political theories of Herder and Fichte. In Ahad Ha-Am's conception, the nation had been constituted as the result of a unifying act in the ancient past: since that genesis, it had been powered by a hidden urge, which had set the people apart and shaped its nature. The 224 Anita Shapira centrality of the historical past in his thinking, in particular the role of Eretz Yisrael as a formative myth in the life of the people, also point to inspiration from that same current in German Romantic political thought. A key role in the shaping of a new national identity is played by the "Other,"the counter-nation against whom that identity was forged. The "Other" in the formation of Irish national identity was the British; in Polish identity, the Russians; in German identity, the French and the Habsburg monarchy. In the Slavophilic identity, it was the West; in the creation of Czech identity, the Germans. Does nationalism derive more from internal creative sources or from an external irritant, as sketched above in relation to Zionism? The concept of the counterposed "Other" underscores the importance of such outside factors. In any event, the component of "anti" in national movements appears to be at least as salient as positive "pro"elements. What then was the nature of the antipode against which the Jewish national movement honed its new identity? Who was the "Other" that served as a negative model, the source of enmity and aggression? What adversary was singled out as the antagonist against whom the Zionist movement was molded? Who was the focus of its critique, its negative opposite and conceptual antithesis? On the surface, we might expect the anti-Semitic Gentile, or the non-Jew in Palestine, e.g., the Arabs or the British, to have served as that "Other."Yet the fact is that at least until the creation of the state of Israel, the Arab did not play the role of the "Other" in Zionist thinking. To a certain extent, he even was con- ceptualized as a positive and romantic native model Jewish pioneers could emulate. In any event, Arabs were not the main focus of enmity for the evolving Zionist identity. Moreover, the British occupied that adversary role only for a very brief period, during the 1940s, when they were blamed for the frustrations in the Yishuv and became the target of Jewish anger in reaction to manifest British indifference toward the fate of European Jewry during World War II. The anti-Semitic Gentile was ill-suited to function as a target of this type, owing to the shift in perspective that followed the "act of conversion" mentioned above. One of the aspects of change experienced in the process of emancipation by someone who accepts the credo of Zion- ism is a new, more open attitude toward anti-Semitism. Herzl had already remarked that there was no sense in arguing against anti- Semitism; rather, it was imperative to move out of its direct line of fire and slip from its clutches.'7 This was the proud defiant stance of the national movement, scornful of various Jewish attempts at apologetic vin- dication from the era of emancipation on. For the Zionist sensibility, such discourse was despicable, indeed futile. Jews from Eastern Europe felt it was obvious and indisputable that the Gentile was fundamentally Anti-Semitism and Zionism 225 and inescapably wicked; there was no need for apologia. A Gentile was not a potential debating partner: they were part of another world, far from the concrete arenas ofJewish national revival. The "Other" in the case of the newJewish national identity was the "diasporic Jew." The "negation of the Exile" informed the sociocul- tural model their movement was schooled in. In Zionist eyes, the diasporic Jew was the living embodiment of negative Jewish existence. The movement was guided by the ideal of the new national society in Pales- tine and the Jew that would be created there. Yet it is justifiable to ask: had some residue of anti-Semitic thinking permeated into the conception of the "negation of the Exile" widely accepted in Palestine at the time? To probe that question, I intend to examine relevant strands in the work of three writers: an essay by Brenner entitled "Self-Assessment in the Three Volumes,"' Uri Zvi Greenberg's attitude to the Fourth Aliyah and the story by Chaim Hazaz, "The Sermon."19It will be evident that this choice is intentional; moreover, one could easily cite counterexam- ples. Nonetheless, these three writers played a significant role in the shaping of the consciousness of the Yishuv. For that reason, their writings, in particular the two texts by Brenner and Hazaz-in whose letter and spirit generations of pupils were educated at school and in the Zionist youth movements-can serve as a window for looking more closely at discourse and consciousness in the Yishuv. Brenner's "Self-Assessment in the Three Volumes" is a essay of criticism and analysis focusing on the work of the Yiddish and Hebrew nov- elist Mendele Mocher Sefarim (1835-1917). Brenner attempts to trace Mendele's evolution as a writer, exploring the way he moved from an "enlightened" and indulgent view ofJews and their failings, defects destined to disappear in the radiance of Enlightenment, to a stance similar to that articulated by Ahad Ha-Am in his "Partial Comfort" (Hatzi ne- hama). There, Ahad Ha-Am dismissed Gentile accusations as baseless libel, attributing the entire gamut of Jewish deficiencies to the de- forming conditions of life in the Diaspora. In later years, Mendele de- veloped what Brenner interpreted as a sober-eyed view of Jewish life in Russia, one which presented its reality unadorned, and without any apologetics. For Brenner, the first key feature of Mendele's writing is his honest self-analysis: Mendele's work is not an attempt at a final reckoning with the Jew-haters; it does not indulge in self-praise or criticize the oppo- nents of the Haskala (Enlightenment). Rather, his opus tries to give an honest and truthful account of Jews as they really are. Brenner repudi- ates a view that was common currency among Zionists at the time: namely the tendency to concede there were various Jewish deficiencies like those denounced by anti-Semites, but to see these as failings that 226 Anita Shapira could be remedied and were amenable to change. Such negative features were transient shortcomings; their matrix was the distorting circumstances of Jewish life in the Diaspora, and they would be overcome as soon as the people returned to its ancient homeland. Brenner, in contrast, argued that the Jews were what they were as a result of an internal process of development. Their faults and defects were rooted in the nature ofJewish character, and were not the product of external social factors. Such a view necessarily cast doubt on whether the Jewish people would ever be able to return to its roots and be transformed in a process of national redemption and renaissance. Brenner contended that Jew-hatred was not the result of mental pathology, as Pinsker had argued, or of prejudice destined to wither away with the march of progress. In his view, Jewish weakness and dependency were the concrete causes that generated Gentile contempt and derision. "We are contemptible and a laughing-stock because we are weak, andfor that reason,unattractive-and becauseof that, likewise devoid of all morality!"20Jews had no sense of aesthetics or morality. Their dependency was manifested inJewish alienation from nature, and in the way Jews had to lean for support on the strong, practical-minded Gen- tile, who performed the hard manual labor. It was embodied in their life of idleness and parasitic luftmenshsources of making a living. Brenner cites Mendele, who wrote that aJew can only succeed in a place where others have gone before to pave the way, "But he does not know how to lay a foundation or plough virgin soil... he can never be a pioneer, never a man of the military."21 Brenner is dubious about genuine political sentiment among Jews or their capacity for self-sacrifice. He contrasts Russian peasants, strong and patient, endowed with a profound faith in the mission of Mother Russia, with indecisive, vacillating Jews. Jews keep the commandments they have been taught, but lack true religiosity. He detests their materialism, their lust for profit and love of money. One of Brenner's more venomous quotes from Mendele reads: "Even when aJew is in his death throes, if he hears talk about business, he starts feeling better, his bur- dens eased."22Yet in the final analysis, Mendele reconciled himself with his pitiable beggars, and even Brenner had to acknowledge his affection for the common masses of the people of Israel: despite all their despicable flaws, they are still fellowJews. Nonetheless, Brenner must add a reservation to that affection. It is for "the masses of Israel-not the bourgeoisie in the cities of the West. Whether we are prepared to admit it or not, everything the anti-Semites say about the latter is true and justified."23Indeed, Brenner reflected a Jewish tendency to vindicate the accusations of anti-Semites as long as they referred to that "other"Jew. In the end, he recommended a remedy for the Jewish malady, namely settlement and agricultural labor in Anti-Semitism and Zionism 227

Palestine. If young Jews cannot be found who are "prepared, with their sweat, to rinse away the filth of that odious speculation which has clung to us, to banish in their work-hardened hands our historical disgrace- then it remains as a mark [upon us], the mark of Cain."24And he con- cludes: "Workers'collectives-that is our sole revolution."25 Brenner's seminal essay reflects views that were common in Zionist socialist thinking in Russia from the time of Nachman Syrkin on, center- ing on the conception of "non-proletarianization." That thesis asserted that Jews would be unable to integrate into the process of proletarianization in Russia; in order to participate in the march of social progress, they needed a country of their own. His appropriation of anti-Semitic thought and imagery is not surprising: after all, the socialist movement in the 19th century was also variously tainted by elements of anti- Semitism. Marx himself authored a highly anti-Semitic pamphlet, claim- ing that capitalism had been introduced into Europe by the Jews, whose driving motive was their love of profit and the idol of Mammon. Proud- hon was a declared anti-Semite, as was Bakunin. Popular anti-Semitism, which depicted theJews as bloodsuckers preying on the body of the simple people, was widespread in Russia, and was accepted as conventional wisdom in certain socialist circles as well. The narodnik tradition added another ideological ingredient, also prominent in Brenner's conception: the preference accorded the manual worker, the belief in the deep-rooted steadfastness and superiority of the simple toiling peasants. Seen in that light, the muzhik was considered true and authentic, while the excessive sophistication of Jews was the result of their distorted nature, underscoring their lack of basic human values. Mendele did not pretend to describe the Jewish people as it really was. He sketched grotesque fragmentary portraits, employing the liter- ary techniques of exaggeration and caricature, a familiar element in satirical or sarcastic descriptions. Yet Brenner utilized Mendele's descriptions as if they were naturalistic, the mirroring of an authentic reality. He cited Dostoyevski's writings, offering them as proof of the profound spirituality of the Russian people, comparing Dostoevsky's descriptions of Russians with Mendele's portraiture of Jews. The stark contrast between Dostoyevski's dramatic figures-the power of their passion, their purity as seekers of God-and the misshapen creatures sketched by Mendele serves to highlight the ridiculousness, superficiality and ugli- ness of the Jewish characters he portrayed. The image of the diasporic Jew that emerges here epitomizes the very antipode of the new type of Jew aspired to in Palestine. The diasporic Jew suffers from a distorted intellect and bent body; he lives a life alienated from nature, unfit for physical labor, parasitically preying on the labor of others, chasing after profit and speculative gain. The Jew in the Diaspora lacks idealism and a sense of dedication to the community, 228 Anita Shapira

he is bereft of political intelligence and creative ability. On top of all these vices, there was the blemish of Jewish weakness, the practical dependency of Jews on others both for their defense and livelihood. In Brenner's view, this absence of self-reliance, the Jewish willingness to live a dependent life, reflected a deep-set and basic flaw in their character-a lack of ethical backbone. In his first years in Palestine, Uri Zvi Greenberg frequently stressed the almost Manichean opposition between the new pioneering lifeways there and the old diasporic styles Jews were expected to cast off before emigration to Eretz Yisrael. The life of the pioneer halutz, "barefooted on the sands of Palestine," was revolutionary, creative, fired with self- sacrifice and the readiness to take a heroic leap. His critical remarks on the Fourth Aliyah point up the negative anti-ideal. He contrasts the self- sacrifice of the halutzim with the naked materialism symbolized by Nalewki St. in Warsaw: "Within our Zionist movement, the diasporic nightmare is rearing its head in Zionist form. The 'middle class,' which does not espouse the transformation of values that is our creed, a class that wants to continue to go on here in Palestine being what it was back there [in the Diaspora], headed by the adherents of the Nalewki style and their ilk."26He denounces them as "those loathsome Jews, vomited up by any healthy collective and state-not because they are Jews, but because of theirJewish repulsiveness."27The romantic idealism of the pioneers was being replaced by the all-consuming concern for making a living: "one can smell the putrid stench of emigratingJewry ... physical survival, one's own or that of a few from the 'family'-this is their only concern. Anything beyond that is immaterial."Owing to the presence of these Nalewki St. "graduates,"a new diaspora was crystallizing in Pales- tine, characterized by "that all-too-familiar petty shopkeepers' mentality, empty of any religiosity." He describes the realities of life in the Diaspora by repeated use of the epithet "nivul"or degeneration, "great loathsomeness." And now in Tel Aviv, one could encounter that same storekeeper's spirit, the same babble of languages, the same longings for the non-Jew, "since that's what we miss, like a drunk his alcohol." For those Jews, their sole purpose in life is to reproduce the old realities of Warsaw on the sands of Palestine. "They speculate with the land of Eretz Yisrael as they did with the bodies of women in Buenos Aires ... build houses in order to rent them out. And finally, they open up a stock exchange, engaging in 'luftgeschefte' just as 'back in the old country,' and hoarding their capital." He conjures up the vision of a future in which hawkers and hucksters descend upon Palestine, taking it over, inundating the public services, while the idealistic workers wither away.28 Greenberg's writing inclines toward an extreme, aggressive idiom, presenting reality in stark colors, either black or white. For that reason, Anti-Semitism and Zionism 229 his comments on the emergence of Nalewkism in Palestine should be sa- vored with caution. In other passages, he reveals his ambivalence toward Europe and Christian culture, and even an affection for the Jewish shtetl.29 But his sketches of the Fourth Aliyah still stand as texts that must be evaluated in their own right. In his scurrilous portrait, diasporic Jews are presented as individuals bereft of any values, interested only in selfish profit, their lives centered on speculative gain and com- merce, Philistines with no cultural interests. They need the Gentile, and cannot manage without him. The use of expressions like "putrid stench," "degeneration" and other vituperative epithets, as well as his al- lusions to trafficking in women in Buenos Aires, contain unmistakable traces of garden-variety anti-Semitic dicta. By contrast, Hazaz's writings contain no such expressions of calumny or insult against the Jewish people. Nevertheless, the story "The Sermon" comes to more radical conclusions about the Jewish people than the texts of Greenberg or Brenner. Yudke's sermon is akin to a prosecutor's final summation, criticizing the path taken by the Jewish people since it went into exile. The Jewish people has no history because "we weren't the ones who made our own history-the Gentiles did it for us. Just as they would light our candlesticks on the Sabbath, milk our cow and tend to the oven fire, they also made our history-in tune with their own wants, just as it suited them. That was the history we re- ceived, passed on to us from their hands."30It is a repetitious and dreary chronicle dense with pogroms and martyrdom, devoid of any deeds of valor or bold conquest. Not only is Yudke opposed to a history of this type-he finds it contemptible. It is a depressing tale of weakness and dependency on others, based on the eternal triangle of diasporic exile, martyrdom and messiah. It is a fabric of total passivity, and in practical terms, an abandonment of the idea of redemption. In Yudke's eyes, Zionism is not a continuation of Jewish history, but its rupture: "not a new heart, a renewed heart-but a different one."31"I believe that Eretz Yisrael is alreadysomething other than Judaism. Already,even now, and so most certainly in the future." To support his contention, he cites the fact that the Jewish Yishuv is ashamed to speak Yiddish: "Not that it hates to do so, is afraid to, or refuses to-no, it's ashamedto speak the lan- guage."32Yiddish symbolizes life and experience in the Diaspora. That diasporic existence had been characterized by weakness, dependency, passivity-by the community register book, not a national history. Though Yudke's remarks are not tainted by any derisive anti-Semitic expressions, taken as a whole they reflect a perspective on Jewish life in the Diaspora seen from the vantage point of a stranger, an outsider who can feel no empathy. Hazaz expresses in a subdued tone what Brenner denounced with a bleeding heart and Greenberg excoriated. His discursive stance is free 230 Anita Shapira

from emotionality, detached. Yet he comes to even more radical conclusions: Hazaz cuts the thread between the new people being created in Zion and all the previous generations of Jews in the Diaspora. He envi- sions a new Hebrew nation in Palestine, emancipated from the maladies of its mother, one that has jettisoned the residues of earlier generations. This view constitutes a total rejection of Jewish existence in the Dias- pora. It would thus appear that stereotypic anti-Semitic models did indeed have a discernible impact on the thinking of those who shaped Zionist public opinion, principally among currents whose aims went beyond the mere physical transference ofJews from the Diaspora to Eretz Yisrael and a demographic shift in their political status from a minority to a majority. The utopian project of such Zionists aimed at a profound revolution in Jewish patterns of life, attitudes toward reality and the accepted norms guiding the relations between individual and society. Their thinking absorbed various elements from anti-Semitic notions about the more distant Jewish past throughout the long period of exile, and the Jewish presentin the Diaspora, both before and after emancipation. However, the model for a solution to the Jewish problem -i.e., the targetimage of theprojected future-was appropriated from the European arsenal of revolutionary national and socialist ideas. "Manliness," national and social activism, self-respect and honor, resoluteness, freedom from dependence on others, dedication to the social collective-all these were considered exemplary traits in both the national and socialist context. These were incorporated into the ideal of the future which the Zionists blueprinted. Thus, even if it is possible to point to a conceptual, mental and terminological nexus between their perspective on the Jewish "Other" in the Zionist context and attitudes toward the Jew prevalent in the discourse of anti-Semitism, one should be careful not to generalize or overstate such a linkage. Despite the repudiation ofJewish diasporic life in both the past and present shared by all three writers ex- amined here, and notwithstanding Brenner's and Greenberg's doubts and misgivings about chances for significant modification in the image of the Jew in future, they were not hobbled by a deterministic view that categorically ruled out such a possibility. Each writer presented a positive model counterposed to the negative image of the Jew. This was not just an ideal-type, a template for the future-it was an exemplary proto- type already on the scene, embodied in the person of the halutz. These were pioneers ready to sacrifice themselves on the altar of national re- birth; from them would sprout the buds of national redemption. In this way, the writers eluded the pitfalls of the syndrome ofJewish self-hatred that excluded any option for future change. They were also careful not to become embroiled in the trap of de- Anti-Semitism and Zionism 231 monization. The differentiation between the positive and negative model created a solid concrete focus for identification, setting Jews free from collective fault. It is true that their self-criticism was more incisive and vehement than that of their predecessors in the Zionist movement. Yet in the final reckoning, there was no essential difference between their views and that of Pinsker, Ahad Ha-Am, Herzl and their associates, who regarded the Jewish predicament as the social product of historical circumstances-not a destiny decreed by nature and thus unalterable. Under the curse of the past, the princess had fallen into a deep diasporic slumber. Now, the liberating kiss of the prince-national and/or social-would restore her to new life. The anti-Semitic looking glass in which they reflected the image of their people was meant to serve as a catalyst in this process of reawakening, and nothing more. TEL AVIVUNIVERSITY

NOTES

1. Ahad Ha-Am, "Ha-kongres ve-yotzro" (The Congress and its Creator), in his Alparashat derakhim(At the Crossroads), Vol. 3 (Berlin, 1930), p. 56. 2. Nathan Birnbaum, "Hirhurim ahadim al ha-antishemiyut" (Some Reflec- tions on Anti-Semitism) (1902), cf. Y. Doron, Haguto ha-tziyonitshel Natan Birn- baum (The Zionist Thought of N. Birnbaum) (Jerusalem, 1988), p. 200. 3. Micah Yosef Berdyezewski, "Am ve-eretz" (People and Land), in his Ba- derekh(On the Road), pt. 3 (Leipzig, 1922), p. 112. 4. Theodor Herzl, TheJewishState (New York, 1946), pp. 1-2. 5. Shmuel Almog, Leumiyut, tzionut ve-antishemiyut(Nationalism, Zionism and Anti-Semitism) (Jerusalem, 1990), p. 224. 6. M. Y. Berdyezewski, Al ha-perek(On the Agenda) (Warsaw, 1899), pp. 72-75. 7. Yosef Chaim Brenner, "M. Y. Berdyezewski,"in his Kol kitvei (Collected Writings), Vol. 7 (Tel Aviv, 1937), p. 195. 8. Yehuda Leib Pinsker, "Auto-Emancipation," in: Road to Freedom(New York, 1944), pp. 74-106. 9. Y. Doron, op. cit., p. 181. 10. Theodor Herzl, CompleteDiaries of TheodorHerzl, ed. R. Patai (New York, 1960), Vol. 1.,June 15, 1895, p. 103; see also ibid.,June 12, 1895, p. 86. 11. Max Nordau, "Ma hi mashma'uta shel ha-hit'amlut le-gabeinu ha-yeh- udim?" (What is the Significance of Gymnastics for Us Jews?) [1902], in his Ke- tavim tziyoniyim(Zionist Writings) (Jerusalem 1960), Vol. 2, pp. 82-86; Nordau, "Yahadut ha-shririm" (Judaism of the Muscles) [1900], op. cit., (Jerusalem, 1955), Vol. 1, pp. 187-88. 12. M. Nordau, "Ha-yehudi ha-tzair" (The YoungJew) [1903], op. cit., Vol. 2, p. 140. 13. T. Herzl, TheJewishState, p. 91, p. 154. 232 AnitaShapira

14. Martin Buber, Bein am le-artzo (Between the People and its Land) (Jerusalem, 1984), p. 9. 15. Ibid. p. 31. 16. On this, cf. Gershom Scholem, "Im Gershom Sholem" (With G. Scholem), in Devarim be-go(Explications and Implications) (Tel Aviv, 1975), pp. 11-54. 17. T. Herzl, TheJewishState, pp. 74-76. 18. Y. Ch. Brenner, "Ha'arakhat atzmenu bi-shloshet ha-kerakhim" (Self- Assessment in the Three Volumes), Kol kitvei,Vol. 7 (Tel Aviv, 1937), pp. 219-67. 19. Chaim Hazaz, "Ha-Derasha" (The Sermon), in Avanim rothot (Boiling Stones) (Tel Aviv, 1970), pp. 219-37 [first published in the calendar of Ha-Aretz, 1943]. 20. Y. Brenner, "Ha'arakhat,"p. 235. 21. Ibid., p. 243. 22. Ibid., p. 232. 23. Ibid., p. 254. 24. Ibid., p. 261. 25. Ibid., p. 267. 26. Uri Zvi Greenberg, "Histaklut be-tokhenu" (Looking Within Ourselves), Kuntres,15 Elul, 1925. 27. U. Z. Greenberg, Sadan (Anvil) (Tel Aviv, 1925). 28. All quotes in this passage are from Sadan, ibid. 29. See, for example, his poem "Ha-hekhrah"(Necessity) in: Be-emtzaha-olam u-ve-emtzaha-zmanim (In the Middle of the World and the Midst of Times) (N. p., 1979), p. 31 and cf. my "Uri Zvi Greenberg-Apokalipsa akhshav (Uri Zvi Greenberg-Apocalypse Now), Zion,Vol. 56, No. 2 (1991), pp. 173-92. 30. C. Hazaz, op. cit., p. 222. 31. Ibid., p. 235. 32. Ibid.