Nothing New in Europe?: Israelis Look at Antisemitism Today 9781800733183

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
PART I. FRAMEWORK
Introduction
Chapter 1. Th e Uses of the Report on Antisemitism and the Development of Antisemitism in Germany
Chapter 2. Antisemitism in Europe: Th en and Now
PART II. STRUCTURED BIOGRAPHICAL INTERVIEWS
Chapter 3. Ronny Hollaender
Chapter 4. Dafna Berger
Chapter 5. Guy Band
Chapter 6. Sonja K.
Chapter 7. Shimrit Sutter-Schreiber
Chapter 8. Ofer Moghadam
Chapter 9. Raphael Shklarek
Chapter 10. Arthur Karpeles
Chapter 11. Tirza Lemberger
Chapter 12. Etgar Keret
Chapter 13. Miri Freilich
Chapter 14. Stephanie Courouble Share
Chapter 15. Daniel Shek
Chapter 16. Bernadett Alpern
Chapter 17. Lydia Aisenberg
Epilogue. Antisemites Are the Others: On Recent Diffi culties of Surveying the Problem of Antisemitism in Europe
Select Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Nothing New in Europe?

Nothing New in Europe? Israelis Look at Antisemitism Today

Anita Haviv-Horiner

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

First published in 2022 by Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com

© 2022 Anita Haviv-Horiner

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A C.I.P. cataloging record is available from the Library of Congress Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Control Number: 2021040479

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-80073-317-6 hardback ISBN 978-1-80073-318-3 ebook

I dedicate this book to the loving memory of my parents and my maternal grandmother. I did not have the privilege of meeting my other grandparents, who perished in the Holocaust.

Contents

Preface

ix

Acknowledgments

xi

PART I. FRAMEWORK Introduction Anita Haviv-Horiner Chapter 1. The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism and the Development of Antisemitism in Germany Samuel Salzborn Chapter 2. Antisemitism in Europe: Then and Now Moshe Zimmermann

3

13 25

PART II. STRUCTURED BIOGRAPHICAL INTERVIEWS Chapter 3. Ronny Hollaender

41

Chapter 4. Dafna Berger

47

Chapter 5. Guy Band

55

Chapter 6. Sonja K.

61

Chapter 7. Shimrit Sutter-Schreiber

69

Chapter 8. Ofer Moghadam

75

Chapter 9. Raphael Shklarek

81

Chapter 10. Arthur Karpeles

89

viii | Contents

Chapter 11. Tirza Lemberger

97

Chapter 12. Etgar Keret

103

Chapter 13. Miri Freilich

111

Chapter 14. Stephanie Courouble Share

117

Chapter 15. Daniel Shek

124

Chapter 16. Bernadett Alpern

134

Chapter 17. Lydia Aisenberg

140

Epilogue. Antisemites Are the Others: On Recent Difficulties of Surveying the Problem of Antisemitism in Europe Gisela Dachs

147

Select Bibliography

160

Index

166

Preface

The German version of this book was published in 2019 by the Federal Agency for Civic Education (Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung). The topic of antisemitism is, unfortunately, very relevant and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. In fact, some are concerned that this phenomenon is on the rise, not only in Europe, but also in the United States of America. In light of this fact, Nothing New in Europe? intends to offer a didactic tool to help both identify and combat antisemitism, in both formal and informal educational settings. The book offers a unique combination of personal storytelling and an examination of the phenomenon of antisemitism from multiple perspectives, including its connection to other forms of bigotry and grouprelated aversion and enmity. Using this method reveals the complex and somewhat even divergent narratives surrounding the topic while also engaging audiences emotionally. Both the underlying concept and the methodology employed in this volume (and in previous two studies1) make it rather unique, not only in the German or wider European context, but also for Anglophone readers. While many books on antisemitism in the English-speaking world exist,2 they are typically not based on structured interviews of particular individuals. This approach has found great resonance in Germany and quite quickly led to the idea of an English translation. In addition to the interviews and scholarly essays that appeared in the German edition, this version includes a conclusion by Gisela Dachs, which seeks to update readers on developments since the publication of the German version and to provide a survey and analysis of recent political debates on the topic. Even though only two years have passed since the appearance of the original volume, the need to combat the scourge of antisemitism has only grown, and so has the need for specialized educational resources. I hope that this volume can make a modest contribution in this field, for such varied audiences as journalists, religious groups, and educators.

x | Preface

Notes 1. Anita Haviv-Horiner and Sibylle Heilbrunn (eds.), Heimat? Vielleicht. Kinder von Holocaustüberlebenden zwischen Detuschland und Israel (Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung, 2013); and Anita Haviv-Horiner, Grenzen-los? Deutsche in Israel und Israelis in Deutschland (Bonn: Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung, 2016). 2. Leonard Dinnerstein. Antisemitism in America, rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press USA, 1994), http://site.ebrary.com/id/10085387; Sarah K. Cardaun, Countering Contemporary Antisemitism in Britain: Government and Civil Society Responses between Universalism and Particularism, Jewish Identities in a Changing World series (Leiden: Brill 2015), 37; Alan T. Davies, Antisemitism in Canada: History and Interpretation (Waterloo, ONT: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1992); Deborah E. Lipstadt, Antisemitism: Here and Now (New York: Schocken, 2019).

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my gratitude to the interviewees. Their stories and perceptions are the heart of this volume. My heartfelt thanks also go to Marion Berghahn for her support from the moment I sent her the German edition and for her advice in having this book see the light of day; to Gisela Dachs, Moshe Zimmermann, and Samuel Salzborn, who each wrote essays providing an excellent scholarly framework for the interviews; to Volker Berghahn, who contributed from his knowledge and his time in order to translate the three scholarly essays and made many, many helpful comments; and to Sabine Frank, who competently accompanied this project in all its logistical aspects.

PART

I Framework

Introduction Anita Haviv-Horiner

Goals and Structure The German antisemitism expert Monika Schwarz-Friesel defined antisemitism as follows: “The hatred of Jews is not a system of prejudice, but a belief system deeply rooted in European culture. Antisemites have a closed worldview; they believe that Jews are the evil of the world.”1 This volume is based on the key assumption of antisemitism being a constant feature of German and European history. It is against this background and in the context of current debates that this book aims to contribute to the fight against new and old manifestations of antisemitism in Europe today. It intends to encourage individual and collective self-reflection and to reach out to a wider public. Therefore, the book focuses on the interaction between personal and societal factors. Fifteen biographical interviews with Jewish Israelis reflecting on their experiences in Germany, Austria, Hungary, Poland, France, and Great Britain are at the heart of the book. Due to the rise of nationalist forces, physical violence, and hate speech, antisemitism has become an omnipresent and controversial topic of the public discourse in these countries. The conversations present individual, sometimes controversial, perceptions and interpretations of antisemitism today. They are not a representative sample, but just few pieces of a mosaic. They reflect different subjective perceptions, interpretations, and reactions of the protagonists to antisemitism today. The interviews also provide multiple perspectives on Jewish-Israeli family (hi)stories, everyday life in Israel, and Judaism, as well as on Israel’s role in the context of antisemitism. Thus, they open doors to topics unknown to many readers. They also touch on social issues such as collective identity, inclusion, and exclusion. These structured biographical interviews cannot be considered a substitute for a scholarly approach. Therefore, the essays of Moshe Zimmermann,

4 | Nothing New in Europe?

Samuel Salzborn, and Gisela Dachs constitute an essential and integral part of the book’s concept. They provide a historical and sociopolitical framework for the “personalized history” expressed in the interviews. The essay of Moshe Zimmermann provides a historical overview of antisemitism and relates to its current manifestations. Salzborn analyzes the current development of antisemitism in Germany and the political instrument of the antisemitism report of the Federal Government. The concluding essay written by Dachs is an update on the situation, mostly in Germany, since Nothing New in Europe? was first published in German two years ago. The author also analyzes how highly politicized the debate has become. The article also adds a new dimension to this volume, focusing on the role of the media in the context of antisemitism. Since Nothing New in Europe? is designed as a tool for informal and formal education, all its modules are designed to complement each other and provide the reader with the information needed for understanding the interviews. This can be particularly helpful for teachers who want to use the book in schools. The interviews intend to arouse curiosity about the topics of Judaism, Israel, Shoah, and antisemitism in different European countries and to encourage indepth learning about these issues.

Why Look at Antisemitism Today: Biographical and Didactic Answers I was born in Vienna in 1960 and grew up as a child of severely traumatized Jewish survivors. After the war, my parents lived in Austria, a country that was heavily involved in the Holocaust. The Shoah was a rare topic in our family, but my father spoke a lot about antisemitism. He considered most Austrians of his generation National Socialists and antisemites. Therefore, I could not understand why he kept silent when confronted with negative remarks about Jews. I was all the more upset when he asked me to do the same. When I criticized his behavior, he only said, “You are still young and do not understand. There is no point in trying to dissuade antisemites from their stereotypes and hatred. Why should I bother? The price I paid is already high enough. My whole family was murdered, and I went through the hell of Auschwitz and Mauthausen.” I was pained by his answer, but it did not convince me. My mother asked me to hide the Star of David on my necklace when I came to her shop. At the time, I reacted defiantly to my parents’ behavior; today, I understand that they wanted to protect me. Over time, I developed a mechanism to prevent embarrassing and painful situations. As soon as I met unknown people in Vienna, I declared, “I am Jewish.” Depending on their spontaneous reaction, I decided whether I would stay in touch with them or not.

Introduction | 5

My parents were worried that in an Austrian school I would be subjected to hatred of Jews. Indeed, many of my Jewish friends who went to Austrian schools had to endure insults from their schoolmates and even teachers. They were confronted with old tropes, such as “You must be rich, because all Jews have money” or “Jews dominate the world.” My parents wanted to spare me this kind of experience and therefore sent me to the French school (Lycée français de Vienne). This institution created a liberal and multicultural environment. The students originated from many countries and had different skin colors and religions. We were educated to have high esteem for diversity. The open atmosphere prevented antisemitism and any form of racism, for that matter. Due to my family history, I did not want to stay in Austria. As much as I love Vienna to this day, the country could never have been my emotional Heimat (homeland). The only logical alternative for me was Israel, so I moved there in 1979. Since then, I have lived in Netanya, and today my two children are adults. Current social developments, the conflict with the Palestinians, and the political shift to the right in Israel are not in line with the Zionist ideals that shaped me when I moved to the country. The reality on the ground does not correspond to the utopian and sugar-coated ideas of the egalitarian and liberal society I had dreamt of in the comfort of the Viennese coffee house. The discrepancy between my Zionist ideals and Israeli reality has increased more and more over the years. Today, I am worried about the future of the country, and the fate of democracy here, yet I do not regret my decision to immigrate to Israel. Israel has become the place where I belong, and it is here that I fight for my values. By that I do not mean flags or the anthem; national symbols mean little to me. Rather, I refer to the gratitude for the fact that the sovereign Jewish state has put an end to the history of persecution that has characterized Jewish life in Europe. Today, many Jews who live in Europe perceive Israel as a protective shield and a potential place of refuge. I see this country as a unique historical opportunity, and I admire the achievements of its founders. My children, who grew up here, have a clearly defined Israeli identity; they know the story of the Jewish people and of their grandparents well. But they do not deal with the topic in everyday life. They love their country and its lifestyle. They visit Europe regularly, but have little emotional attachment to the old continent.

Didactic Approach On a personal level, my immigration to Israel has minimized confrontations with antisemitism. Nevertheless, the hatred of Jews, its culmination in the Holocaust, and antisemitic forms of criticism of Israel have become a central focus of my work. I develop educational programs and workshops for influ-

6 | Nothing New in Europe?

encers and students. It is my goal to encourage the participants to ask themselves the following questions: • When I criticize Jews and/or Israel, is it for what they do or for what they are? • To what extent am I guided by stereotypes? • Do I try to understand Jews from their own self-perception? • Are my opinions based on multiperspectival information and knowledge, or am I guided by prejudice? • Are my attitudes toward Jews and Israel critical or hostile? • How can I ensure that my opinions are not based on bias? It is my deep conviction that the first step in combating antisemitism and all forms of group-related enmity is achieved through self-awareness. Young people and adults should be taught self-scrutiny with regard to their opinion formation. Self-reflection opens a door that expands people’s horizons and deepens their ability to engage in a constructive dialogue with others. Therefore, I hold the question mark as a guiding symbol of the book. It brings to mind the questions I asked the protagonists, as well as those they asked themselves. But not less important, it points to the questions the readers will ask themselves. Most people instinctively perceive the unknown and the stranger, the “Other,” as a threat. Therefore, the challenge lies in creating curiosity and empathy for unknown cultures and people. From my educational experience, the biographical approach has proven to be an excellent tool to achieve this goal. It is effective in inducing intellectual and emotional responses. Once the readers empathize, they show interest in the stories and experiences of the interviewees. Thus, resistance to learn about unknown worlds can be turned into intellectual and emotional curiosity. In my workshops with adults and students, the participants talked about their own family, their own biography, and their perception of German society after discussing the interviews. This process opened them up for the central educational question: “To what extent are my interpretations of antisemitism in its various manifestations guided by my family history or my socialization at school, at work, or among friends?”

The Interviews Profile of the Interviewees In order to find fifteen protagonists, I conducted research in Israel and several European countries, and approached over thirty potential candidates. The following criteria were the guidelines in finding the candidates:

Introduction | 7

• Cultural and religious background • Geographical and historical parameters of the protagonists and their families • Generational perspectives (the oldest is eighty years old; the youngest, twenty-seven) • Gender parity All of the Israelis I interviewed either grew up in Europe, live there today, or have a professional connection to one of the countries chosen. Six interviews deal with Germany, two with Austria, two with Poland, two with France, one with Great Britain, and one with Hungary. Some of the protagonists relate to antisemitism in more than one country or in different geographical spaces in the same country. Some of the interviewees grew up in religious families, while others are of secular origin. Bernadett Alpern, who grew up in Hungary, even recalls that until she immigrated to Israel, the Jewish origin of her family was a well-kept secret (see chapter 16). The historian Miri Freilich compares Israeli identity to Jewish identity in the Diaspora: “Diaspora Jews are concerned with the question of whether Israel is a refuge for them in case antisemitism threatens them again. For me it is just normal and natural to be Israeli” (see chapter 13). The youngest interviewee echoes this approach in a casual way: “Israel is my home. If you cannot walk around in pajamas at home, where can you?” Ronny Hollaender feels that only in Israel she is free to outwardly express her religious Jewish way of life and does not have to “tiptoe” like the Jews in Europe (see chapter 3). Two of the protagonists participated in the project on the condition that they remain anonymous because the topic was sensitive for them. The narratives of the following persons have been included in the volume: • a religious businessman born in Romania, raised in Israel, and living in Vienna since 1984 • a political scientist from Vienna who has been living in Tel Aviv since 2016 • a former Israeli ambassador to France • a historian born in Cracow who is an expert on the Jewish history in Poland • the current representative of the Action Reconciliation Service for Peace in Israel • a tourism expert who grew up in Moscow, moved to Germany, and has lived in Jerusalem since 2007 • an Orthodox expert in Jewish Studies living in Vienna since 1960 • a religious winemaker who studied in Germany

8 | Nothing New in Europe?

• a photographer from Hungary who has been living in Tel Aviv since 2015 • a translator and tour guide living in Munich since 1991 • a historian and expert on the subject of Holocaust denial who immigrated to Israel from France in 2008 • an office manager living in Berlin since 2004 • a tourist guide of Iranian descent who grew up in Germany and has been living in Jerusalem since 2007 • a prominent Israeli writer whose family came from Poland and who is very successful in both countries • a journalist and education expert from the United Kingdom who settled in a kibbutz in 1966 The conversations were conducted between December 2017 and August 2018 and reflect the sphere of experience and the life situation of the protagonists until then. Any changes that might have taken place after this period could not be taken into consideration.

Method of the Interviews A standardized and structured questionnaire was developed in order to provide readers with a basis for comparison on a broad spectrum of positions and experiences. The fifteen interviews were divided into identical thematic passages based on the following subjects: • • • • • •

history of the family, including the Shoah individual history of the respondents personal and collective experiences with antisemitism in Europe Israeli politics, criticism of Israel, and antisemitism personal attitude and commitment to fight antisemitism view of Israel’s role in combating antisemitism in Europe

The interviews were conducted verbally. They began with an open part relating to the respondents’ family history and their own biography. In the second part, the protagonists answered questions based on the leitmotif of “antisemitism,” using the questionnaire mentioned above. Thereafter, the conversations were transcribed, edited, and translated. It was quite a challenge to transform the verbal conversations into reader-friendly written texts. In order to keep the authenticity of the conversations, the protagonists were asked for their input. All of them agreed to become active partners in the editing process.

Introduction | 9

Biographical Interviews: Expression of Subjective Perceptions and Interpretations Biographical interviews and the ensuing personalization of history are by definition subjective; this is also true for the interviews in this book. The German historians Hols and Jarausch define interview responses as “selfrepresentations in which the respondent offers his own memories, explanations and interpretations.”2 It was not crucial for this publication to determine whether all the statements of the respondents could withstand a scientific examination. The many contradictions—not only between the observations of different protagonists, but sometimes in a single interview—reflect the emotional and subjective dimension of the conversations. The interviews express the perceptions and interpretations of the protagonists and not “objective” facts. Some of the respondents fully realize that—for instance, Arthur Karpeles when he points out, “Even though I cannot prove it statistically, I have the impression that Jews are disproportionally often the protagonists of negative media reports” (see chapter 10). Another interviewee asked me to emphasize that she was expressing her personal opinions and that they should not be considered of general validity. The protagonists express their own subjective interpretations of antisemitism, racism, and Israel, no more and no less. The central message of the book lies in its pluralism and its multiperspectivity. The compilation of interviews expresses different and also contradictory interpretations of enmity toward Jews. Thus, the reader faces several narratives for the same conflictual situation. In order to form an educated opinion on the broad spectrum of Israeli discourse on antisemitism and also on Israeli society, the reader should reflect on these contradictions and compare them. With regard to antisemitism, the spectrum of statements ranges from the view that it is an incurable disease unrelated to other forms of racism to Guy Band’s statement: “People who exclude minorities do not focus on one group. An antisemitic person is most likely to reject refugees and LGBTQ as well. There might be exceptions, but from my experience, that is the way exclusion mechanisms work” (see chapter 5). The historian Stephanie Courouble Share offers a third interpretation. She thinks that there is a clear difference between antisemitism and racism, but she emphasizes the need to fight both (see chapter 14). The diversity of voices also applies to the perception of Israel’s role as a safe haven for Jews. For instance, Sonja K. can in no way imagine what Jewish life in the Diaspora would look like today without Israel (see chapter 6). By contrast, other protagonists say that Israel does not strengthen their sense of security; several are even worried about the country’s future.

10 | Nothing New in Europe?

Although all the interviewees agree that there are forms of criticism of Israel that are antisemitic, their perceptions of Israel’s role in the context of contemporary antisemitism are particularly divergent. One rare consensus in the conversations is the idea that many Europeans relate to Israel in an emotional way. The writer Etgar Keret points out: “Somehow, when it comes to Israel, many people feel obliged to position themselves. Speaking in terms of Star Wars, they must decide who is Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader, who is the good guy or the bad guy. And there is no room for any ambiguity or grey zones in the discourse; it has to be either black or white” (see chapter 12). The author refers not only to the unilateral condemnation of the Jewish state, but also to the opposite behavior, which he finds no less irritating: “I met many Germans who felt that they have to support Israel unconditionally. This attitude was intended as a kind of compensation for the crimes of their parents or grandparents. When it comes to Israel, people do not base their opinions on facts but on feelings and their relation to the past” (see chapter 12). When the issue of Israeli politics is raised, several respondents do not mince their words in expressing their criticism. They are outspoken about it, regardless of their experiences with antisemitism in Europe. At the same time, all of them emphasize that their negative views of government policy are not to be understood as a rejection of Israel. Rather, they want to convey their deep concern about developments in Israeli society and politics. Several protagonists believe that Israeli policies are fueling hatred. For instance, Raphael Shklarek declares: “Israel tries to present itself as a moral country, while often the opposite is being documented. Then again, Europeans are not aware of the very real threats Israel faces. I do not believe that antisemitism in Austria would fade away even if Israel would satisfy the moral expectations of Europeans. However, it would be easier to expose antisemitism” (see chapter 9). Other protagonists do not share this view. Tirza Lemberger, for example, believes that Israeli politicians are intimidated by negative public opinion abroad: “Israel’s policy, in my opinion, is too focused on ‘What will the others say?’ and that can sometimes harm the country’s interests. Ultimately, this excessive consideration of public opinion abroad does not pay, because Israel is ‘scolded’ regardless of its actions” (see chapter 11). Ofer Moghadam, an Israeli tour guide, follows a similar train of thought, though in a more cautious way: “The mistakes of Israeli politics are often used as a pretext for antisemitic attitudes” (see chapter 8). The respondents also give different answers to the question of whether the fight against antisemitism can be successful, and whether they are personally prepared to get involved in it. Lydia Aisenberg formulates her response as follows: “I must admit that for the first time in my life dealing with informal education around sensitive issues such as antisemitism, racism, hatred of the

Introduction | 11

other, I do not have the answers anymore” (see chapter 17). On the other hand, Guy Band expresses an optimistic view. He believes that most of the time antisemitic hate speech from teenagers originating from Arab countries is basically a call for attention. He is confident that acknowledging their distress and the right educational approach can change their attitude (see chapter 5). These few quotes constitute a small excerpt of the polyphony characterizing the interviews. It is a challenge I experienced myself before presenting readers with it. During the interviews, I defined my role as a listener. I certainly do not agree with many statements; some even strongly contradict my own opinions. But I wanted to enable the respondents to have their say, and not to argue with them. This is the message I would like to convey to the reader: we have to learn how to endure such a situation, to listen without intervening. In our communication with others, we should take into consideration the connection between their biographical and social context and their opinions. Multiperspectivity and controversy are confusing. However, the confusion caused by Nothing New in Europe? Israelis Look at Antisemitism Today can be an important educational experience. It can make us understand that there are different perspectives on the same situation, none of which are necessarily right or wrong, but subjective. It is my hope that readers—as a consequence of their confusion—turn to self-scrutiny with regard to the way they form their opinions in the context of antisemitism. They are not expected to automatically change their opinions, but to put a question mark instead of an exclamation mark behind them. With regard to antisemitism in its different manifestations, I suggest the following questions to start the process of self-scrutiny: • Do I know the historical and current context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict? • Am I aware of Israeli position(s) and do I try to understand them? • Do I base my opinion on information from different perspectives? • Do I criticize Israel for what it does or for what it is? • Are other countries criticized as sharply and as often as Israel? In conclusion, I hope that Nothing New in Europe? Israelis Look at Antisemitism Today will motivate its audience to think about antisemitism and its connections to other forms of group-related enmity, as well as the link between criticism of the State of Israel and contemporary antisemitism, in a more educated way. Beyond the specific frame of reference of antisemitism, this book intends to encourage readers to internalize self-scrutiny in the way they form their opinions. Putting a question mark behind one’s own opinions is an important

12 | Nothing New in Europe?

precondition for constructive dialogue between individuals and also between societies.

Anita Haviv-Horiner is an educational consultant and author. She grew up in Vienna as the daughter of Holocaust survivors. After immigrating to Israel in 1979, she studied English and French literature at Tel Aviv University. She is also a trained facilitator and mediator and worked as an educator in various Israeli museums and Holocaust memorials. Since 1994, Haviv-Horiner has been a freelance consultant developing educational programs dealing with antisemitism, the intergenerational impact of the Holocaust, Jewish and Israeli identity, and Israeli-European relations. These topics are also the focus of her two books and numerous articles published previously in German.

Notes 1. Elisa Makowski, “Expertin Schwarz Friesel. Bei Antisemitismusbekämpfung ist Deutschland scheinheilig,” MiGAZIN, 25 January 2018, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://www.migazin.de/2018/01/25/bei-antisemitismusbekaempfung-ist-deuts chland-scheinheilig/. 2. Rüdiger Hohls and Konrad H. Jarausch, Versäumte Fragen. Deutsche Historiker im Schatten des Nationalsozialismus (Munich: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 2000), 40.

chapter

1 The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism and the Development of Antisemitism in Germany Samuel Salzborn

In November 2008, the German Federal Parliament adopted a resolution designed to reinforce “the fight against antisemitism and to continue to promote Jewish life.” With these goals in mind, the Federal Government was instructed to compose a report on antisemitism.1 This report was to be written by an independent group of experts and to be regularly updated. In particular, the report was to take stock of the development of antisemitism in Germany, on the one hand, and to present and further develop ideas and programs to combat antisemitism, on the other. The first report was made public in November 2011,2 followed by a second one in April 2017, with the second report’s circle of experts being different from that of the first.3 In publishing these two reports on antisemitism, the Federal Government moved into new territory, as these efforts were located at the intersection between scholarly research, the practice of political pedagogy, and the shaping of official policy. As a preliminary conclusion, it may be stated that the actual conclusions that could be drawn from the insights articulated in those two reports could clearly bear expansion. Moreover, they were repeatedly criticized for an underrepresentation of the Jewish perspective among the circle of experts. This was seen as an omission, especially since the promotion of Jewish life was an explicit objective. Actual experiences with antisemitism in daily life were also played down. This article aims to present the main insights of the most recent report on antisemitism, evaluate the findings critically, and put them into the larger context of actual developments of antisemitism. To do this, recent developments in this field will be examined, as well as reasons regular reporting on antisemitism appears to be necessary. In a second step, the key findings and

14 | Nothing New in Europe?

recommendations of the second report will be presented in view of the fact that it represents the most current approach of the independent commission of experts on the topic of antisemitism. As a third step, the challenges that arise from these findings for combatting antisemitism will be discussed.

Antisemitism in Its Larger Context: Global Trends and Underlying Causes In order to clarify the notions underlying the report on antisemitism, this article starts from its working definition, according to which antisemitism is a “composite term for all attitudes and behaviors through which individuals, groups and institutions are, on account of their association, tainted with negative characteristics” so that antisemitism constitutes “a hostility against Jews as Jews.”4 However, against the background of the insights gained by theoretical research on antisemitism, this definition excludes a number of central dimensions according to which antisemitism is significantly different from other forms of discrimination. Yet these aspects must be considered if antisemitism is to be properly understood. Antisemitism just is not simply a form of discrimination beside others; it is not simply a prejudice like many others. Rather, antisemitism is a basic position toward the world that makes its appearance in parallel, or in connection, with other forms of discrimination, such as racism, antifeminism, or homophobia; yet it differs fundamentally from these in the ways it is constituted. Being a basic position means that those who share antisemitism as their view of the world try to explain with it everything in politics and society that they cannot or do not want to explain or comprehend. Apart from the quantitative difference raised by a comparison of the Shoah with other mass murders, there is also a qualitative difference with regard to racist prejudices in that the potential power that is assigned to “the other”—that is, Jews—is expressed materially and sexually. It is that immanent contradiction and abstractness— in which antisemitism is imagined and fantasized about as something that is mysteriously inaccessible, abstract, and generalized—that is so striking.5 As a cognitive and emotional phenomenon, antisemitism aims to provide a system that is truly comprehensive. As early as 1945, Jean-Paul Sartre argued that there existed a connection between Weltanschauung and passion, and that it had cognitive as well as emotional dimensions.6 Antisemitic attitudes are shaped by a mutual interpenetration of certain resentments that are directed at Jews; they are highly influenced by affect and characterized above all by projections and hatred.7 Antisemites do believe in their image of the world not, although it is wrong, because they hold it to be true. What is at stake is the emotional surplus value

The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism | 15

that antisemitic hatred offers. This is why it is necessary also to pinpoint the antisemitic untruths that invariably constitute the warped image of Jewry that is ultimately based on “rumors about Jews.”8 In the course of history, these rumors have changed and antisemites have adapted to them—for example, after 1945, when Nazi annihilationist antisemitism had become politically discredited and antisemites created an antisemitism that refuted German guilt. It was the victims who were made responsible for the unsettling of national memory. Mass murder was flatly denied, and national memory was preserved by a reversal of the link between victims and perpetrators.9 The Islamist terror attacks of 9/11 were an important turning point in the history of antisemitic resentments; they were deliberately directed not only at the United States, but at the entire free world and its enlightened modernity.10 But as Osama bin Laden and other Islamist terrorists always stressed, they were at heart also antisemitic attacks.11 In the Islamist interpretation, Jews and Jewesses stood for everything that they hated. Thus antisemitism in particular provided the initial spark for a global mobilization that did not, however, remain confined to radical Islamist groups. If, given this background, one attempts a systematization of antisemitism since 9/11, three aspects are striking: its unlimited thrust, its trivialization, and how it was played down. What does this mean? Its limitlessness emerged in exemplary fashion in the summer of 2014, when the leaders of Palestinian organizations were in numerous German towns taken over by antisemites of all shades. Next to Islamist antisemites, there appeared German nationalists and left-wing anti-imperialists. If the latter operated merely on the margins of the German Left—with the majority continuing their opposition to antisemitism, this example nevertheless demonstrates a transgression of the limits by which the antisemitic image of the world had become so central that all other ideological differences became secondary. This leads to the problem of trivialization. The form of antisemitism that is dominant today is directed against Israel. But antisemites like to take cover behind the formula that criticizing Israel is not tantamount to antisemitism and thus trivializes antisemitism. And yet the difference is easily recognizable: if the State of Israel is to be delegitimized, its policies are to be demonized, or a double standard is applied to the assessment of Israeli politics, this is not a mere criticism; rather, it is antisemitism.12 If antisemites claim today that it is merely their criticism that turns them into antisemites, they trivialize antisemitism. And what about the downplaying? Antisemites oppose Jews not only with their images of the world, but also every aspect of what characterizes the modern enlightened world, such as freedom and equality, urbanity, and rationality; it is directed against emancipation and democracy. This is why the fight against antisemitism is simultaneously always a fight for the defense of democ-

16 | Nothing New in Europe?

racy. However, since 9/11, antisemitism is being progressively played down, if it is declared a marginal phenomenon. And even more so: Jewish criticism of this attitude is swept off the table, as if the problem were not antisemitism, but those who are its targets. It was in this sense that antisemitism amounted to a dual threat to Europe after 9/11. On the one hand, there was the virulent Islamic and radical-rightist terrorism; on the other, there was also the silence of democrats. It is in this force field that the dynamic of antisemitism has to be seen since 9/11, when three theoretical accounts, claiming exclusivity in world politics, clashed: radical Islamism with its notion of a comprehensive umma (community), rightwing extremism that is currently prone to adopt a populist guise, and, third, liberalism with its idea of an enlightened universalism that frequently acts much too passively and defensively when it comes to fighting antisemitism and defending democracy.13 Two of these three concepts aim to combat the liberal foundations and the universalistic claims of the Enlightenment and are decidedly antisemitic in the process. Right-wing extremism, which, with its populist pretense, does not like to be identified with fascist movements (although it shared with them its populist face), is based on fantasies concerning an all-powerful self-love and the will to achieve unconditional and unlimited power. Its core consists of the ideology of a homogenous people that is supposed to be historically rooted in a geographic locality. In the process, demos is being transformed into ethnos; society becomes community. The pluralism of interests is transformed into the monism of identity; conflict turns into fate, and the opponent becomes the foe. Radical Islamism wants to establish its global umma—a homogeneous community of the faithful. Paradoxically, Islamic fundamentalism accepts the technological progress of modernity, but rejects the gains in liberty and equality. Islamist fundamentalism is not prepared to come to an arrangement with the deist peace offer of modernism, which views the emancipatory power of constituting faith as a private rather than a public matter, and it is this notion that is incompatible with the fundamentalist implications of the Islamist reordering of the world. It aims to restore the link between the political order and religion and in this way hopes to create a nizam islami—an Islamist global order. Both these images of the world come together in antisemitism in its divergent forms. It extends from the open denial of the existence of the Shoah and the downplaying of Nazi crimes, on the one hand, to extolling the alleged achievements of the Nazi regime, on the other. It also accepts the desecration of memorials, as well as violent attacks on actual or presumed Jews. It stretches all the way to ideas that are structurally antisemitic and with the help of which dreams of a homogenous Heimat are being walled off against a universal cosmopolitanism; or they lead to a rejection of principles of rationality, enlighten-

The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism | 17

ment, liberalism, communism, urbanity, cosmopolitanism, or intellectualism, all of which are associated in right-wing radical and Islamist ideology with Judaism. The broad span of the divergent forms through which antisemitism is articulated moreover imply the questioning of restitution payments to Israel in recognition of what happened before 1945, just as doubt is being cast on the Jewish state and Jewish life within a nation-state. To these aspects must be added the rejection of memory and accountability, as well as the reversal of the perpetrator-victim dichotomy. Finally, there are the numerous variants of fantasies relating to a “Jewish world conspiracy,” to be found in particular in connection with the argument of Jewish domination of the media and/or the world of finance. More recently, there has been a growth in links being made between antisemitism and anti-Americanism. For example, there is the emergence of codes such as USIsrael, of ZOG (Zionist Occupied Governments), or the paranoia relating to the control of international political and financial transactions by the “East Coast.” This is a linguistic cover used in right-wing radical and Islamist circles that is clearly understood as a functional revival of the ancient antisemitic forgery known as “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion.” Based on a structure of resentments, anti-Americanism is composed of an ambivalent mix of superiority and inferiority, of contempt and admiration, of powerlessness and omnipotence, of a lust for revenge as well as schadenfreude, and of love and hatred toward America. All this can be viewed as running in parallel to antisemitism with its fantasies and projections. As Andrei S. Markovits has shown, it constitutes the common denominator of an anti-modern regression in which “Jews,” “America,” and “modernism” have become the three central pillars of classical antisemitism and anti-Americanism.14 If reduced to their common denominator, there is time and again also to be found within antisemitic stereotypes the juxtaposition of culture versus civilization or idealism versus materialism. Accordingly, antisemitism and anti-Americanism constitute the respective negative projection foils on which the homogenizing and collectivizing fantasies of right-wing radicalism and Islamism are founded.

The German Antisemitism Report The development of antisemitism after 9/11 provided the backdrop to the growing conviction that the Federal Republic must regularly publish reports on antisemitism in order to assess current developments and then take preventive measures or intervene in other ways. This report is hence a tool that makes research on antisemitism that lacks an institutional base more visible in the political sphere. At the same time, the report covers up a structural problem: there are no more than two professorships at German universities, both

18 | Nothing New in Europe?

at Berlin’s Technical University, explicitly established to undertake research on antisemitism. Both are within the discipline of history. In the central field of political science, it is the federal state of Berlin that has taken a first step toward funding a guest professorship for two years. There is no professorship devoted to research on right-wing radicalism—a field adjacent to research on antisemitism. Those who are interested in it and/or in right-wing extremism teach these fields in addition to the official description of their chair. If knowledge of antisemitism is to be made sustainable also with respect to the specific federal structures of the German Republic in historical, empirical, and conceptual research, one professorship for the study of antisemitism or rightwing radicalism should exist at every university. After all, the diagnosis that the Federal Parliament (Bundestag) has provided with regard to antisemitism is no doubt correct: its societal and political importance is so great (as is the threat to democracy) that one cannot analyze this topic as a sideline. This all the more so because Parliament’s views of the world are so different from the world of antisemitic prejudice. Accordingly, this research cannot simply be attached to general research on prejudice. This becomes clear once one turns to the themes examined in the reports. These reports are important and sent the right signal when they were initiated. However, they hide the fact that the federal government and the states (Länder) save the investment costs of new professorships that alone would be able to research and teach the topics of antisemitism and right-wing radicalism much more extensively, fundamentally, and continuously. It should be added just how important the teaching aspect is in the training of teachers, journalists, and the faculties at teachers’ colleges. Nor should lawyers and police officers be forgotten. The independent Commission of Experts has systematically immersed itself in issues of antisemitism in connection with its second report. Apart from a conceptualization of the problems at hand, it also discusses, as examples, a number of debates on antisemitism, such as the case of Jacob Augstein, the discussion of circumcision, or antisemitic incidents at soccer matches. There is also a collection of approaches to prevention that are being explored from the perspective of political science. Another consideration is how to deal with questions of political supply and demand. The focus is thus on what is done at the institutional and organizational level and how this work is to be assessed at the individual level—that is, with an eye to the role of citizens. The sections of the report relating to individual conceptions, attitudes, and actions deal with crimes that are motivated by antisemitism. Other sections focus on popular attitudes and the antisemitism of refugees. When it comes to institutions and organizations, there is a section on antisemitism and political parties, as well as antisemitism inside political movements and associations. How antisemitism and religion are being mediated between organizations and individuals in the media is discussed in two further sections, which also

The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism | 19

broach the question of how to put the committee’s observations into practice, though overall it does so at the level of the individual. The report’s recommendations relating to felonies that are motivated by antisemitism and the recording of “politically motivated criminality” (PMK) are concerned, apart from covert observation and the gathering of intelligence, with the systematic collection of data on antisemitic incidents. Mention is also made of the creation of a national database, the further training of the police, and the examination of specific case studies arising in the murky zones of antisemitic criminality. These zones must be extensive, since right-wing radical felonies are frequently linked to antisemitism. As a result, a central aspect of antisemitic reality relating to an anti-Israeli antisemitism is largely taken out of the equation. Nor are crimes that are motivated by Islamism categorized as antisemitic, or they are, in light of predetermined formal statistical practice, put into the column of right-wing radicalism. One of the report’s findings that is most important in this context is no doubt the demand that an “independent evaluation of the PMK collection” system be combined with a review of its “theoretical foundations.”15 After all, to some extent the federal states tend to shrink antisemitism to the point of invisibility. Yet, de facto there are the antisemitic activities and felonies that the independent monitoring agency of the Research and Information Office on Antisemitism in Berlin (RIAS) and the Amadeu Antonio Foundation (AAS) regularly document. On the other hand, such developments are only partially classified by the current PMK recording system. This makes it appear as if these crimes did not exist. The report documents very expansively the findings relating to research on attitudes and marked by concrete demands for action. Its basic conclusion is that, although antisemitism has become “marginalized,”16 various forms of it that deny German guilt, as well as an anti-Israeli antisemitism, exist quite widely all the way to the center of the political spectrum and that a potential for the mobilization of antisemitism is markedly high among right-wing as well as left-wing radicals, as well as Islamists. As far as antisemitism among refugees is concerned, the report concludes: “All in all there are many indications for the assumption of a widespread antisemitism among refugees that has been shaped by the Arab-Muslim countries.”17 The chapters of the report relating to antisemitism in political parties and movements attest to a “high sensibility” for antisemitism in the former. This does not go so far, however, that this antisemitism is being discussed among party members. It was “mostly in the media” that such tendencies were made public. In this respect, the report identifies “potentials to optimize internal sensibilizations” that might be achieved, “for example, by means of further education.”18 There is also no question that this “high sensibility” applies, not surprisingly, to the Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) due to this party’s marked affinity with antisemitism and its anchoring in antisemitic and revisionist

20 | Nothing New in Europe?

convictions about history that reach into the highest echelons of the AfD leadership.19 The analysis of antisemitism in political movements and organizations, and of the existence of a special current that is noted as such by the federal intelligence services, is focused on right-wing extremism (including Pegida) and Salaphism, with the latter representing a narrow type of Islamism, though it limits itself to recording the reality of antisemitism. The decisive antisemitic actors in Germany, it is true, are the Islamists (who operate in Palestinian, Turkish Iranian, and Syrian milieus). However, they are not Salaphists. It is here that the report uncritically adopts observations of the intelligence services that are wrong, and this in turn leads to considerable misperceptions as far as the operational sphere is concerned. Nor does the report include a left-wing antisemitism within movements and organizations that are in search of alliances with Islamism, not only in the anti-imperialist milieu, but also those prepared to resort to extreme violence. As these are not mentioned in the report, this lacuna should be corrected in the future. This is also true of the partial minimization of left-wing antisemitism. Thus an excursus covering antisemitic incidents among the German Die Linke party are moved without convincing argument into a nebulous “gray zone.”20 This is a “little a bit” of antisemitism that is just as unthinkable as being “a little bit pregnant.” This should be corrected, as antisemitic events did happen within Die Linke during the period covered by the report, were discussed in public most intensively, and were quite apart from the incidents that occurred in AfD.21 When the report takes up the topic of “media discourses,” the actual “mass media” are largely omitted. Instead the focus is on the Internet and social media. This is irritating from the point of view of opinion formation and relevancy. With regard to social media, the report shows that antisemitism via the Internet experiences a noticeable multiplication, as the studies of Schwarz-Friesel have also confirmed.22 As a result, the mobilizing outreach has been markedly wider. These findings have led to a recommendation to institute a more detailed monitoring of social networks and to promote this monitoring in the sphere of civil society. The report contains no outline to deal with an urgently needed expansion of criminal law and the prosecution of antisemitism in the social media. An attempt to fill this gap was made through a law designed to improve, as a first step, the strict application of regulations on social networks, known as NetzDG. The drawback was that the committee of experts completely lacked the juristic expertise. The key recommendations of the circle of experts are to be found in the following six points: (1) the appointment of a permanent coordinator of antisemitism policies; (2) the longer-term appointment of the circle of independent experts; (3) the strict recording, publication, and punishment of antisemitic crimes; (4) the persistent support of those involved in the prevention of anti-

The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism | 21

semitism; (5) creation of a permanent commission of representatives of both the federal government and those of the Länder; (6) support of research on antisemitism on a long-term basis.

Challenges and Implications The recommendation to appoint a permanent coordinator of policies on antisemitism makes possible a brief sketching of the dilemma that goes hand in hand with the lack of a permanent institutional promotion of research on antisemitism at German universities: both the federal government and the Länder do not want to spend much money on combatting antisemitism. This means that urgently needed decisions have no more than a cosmetic significance. Rhineland-Palatinate, Baden-Württemberg, Bavaria, and Hesse have been the first to respond to the plan of creating a coordinator of responses to antisemitism. But Rhineland-Palatinate merely created an honorary position— that is, a total nonentity. Nor did this office have the support of administrative personnel. These realities demonstrate how the politicians deal with the issue of antisemitism at the level of the Länder by acting without doing anything. Of course, those Länder that did not even appoint a coordinator must be criticized even more harshly. The coordinator of policies should not only have its own financially independent office; he/she must also be equipped with executive powers. After all, without such powers, these coordinators would merely be able humbly to request funding instead of dealing with ministers on a basis of equality. In the meantime, a position of coordinator of Jewish life in Germany and of fighting antisemitism has been created and has at least been attached to the Federal Ministry of the Interior, even if the chancellor’s office would have been a more sensible place with its authority reaching beyond the confines of the Ministry of the Interior. The fact that a qualified person has been found for this office is to be taken as a hopeful sign. However, the actual tasks of the coordinator are too vague. Nor does the occupant have executive and directing powers. Nevertheless, the tracks have been laid, provided the office would, in light of a fundamental reform of criminal law with regard to antisemitism, be equipped with expanded powers to deal with all forms of antisemitism in terms of matters of criminality. However, a second example shows that it is not just the federal government and the Länder that lack the political readiness to institutionalize research on antisemitism, as well as combat it and provide sustained financial support of those efforts. There are also other actors who in the past had, and continue to have, a considerable coresponsibility for the proliferation of antisemitism: the Christian and Islamic institutions of the Federal Republic. The interconnec-

22 | Nothing New in Europe?

tions between antisemitism and religion demonstrate relatively straightforwardly the gap between reporting on the problem and doing something about it. With reference to Christian antisemitism, it was mooted that the Protestant Church might use the commemorations of Martin Luther that took place in 2017 to ponder the question of antisemitism within its own institutions. The Evangelische Kirche Deutschlands (EKD), it is true, issued proclamations on this occasion and also acknowledged that extensive antisemitic attitudes are to be found in Luther’s writings, but the EKD did not propose any remedial actions. One of these might have been a complete withdrawal of the Luther Bible; another way forward would have been for the EKD to fund in-depth research of its own antisemitic past. To be sure, such research would have had to be conducted independently—that is, without the participation of the EKD. But nothing ever happened. There is also hope expressed in the report that the “creation of dialogs by many Imams in the fight against antisemitism should be given positive recognition”23 and that their experiences should be taken into account for critical research on this topic in “other Muslim congregations.”24 However, these efforts have not had any echo in Islamist associations. In other words, the appeal remained unheeded, and no initiatives have to date been launched. Just as Christian antisemitism is based on religion, so is that of Islam, posing a religious as well as political problem. And just as it is difficult to believe that the EKD is serious about its fight against antisemitism if it does not engage in self-criticism and documents its financial support of independent research on these topics, it is also difficult to expect that it will make such a commitment on its own. Similarly, the engagement of a few Imams is insufficient if one wants to tackle the extensive anti-Jewish passages in the Koran. The umbrella associations condemn these statements in the texts and say clearly that they are false. In this respect, the report shows very distinctly and with respect to religion that the effective struggle against antisemitism has also been hampered by the social actors involved. Thus, a tangible tool for organizations such as the Christian churches and the Islamic associations that are in a strong financial position would be, for example, if the EKD, the Catholic Church, and the Islamic groups would, as a first step, endow three professorships. This gesture would be extremely transparent, and it would be of particular interest to universities at which research on religions of the world is already firmly established. They would be in a good position to take on board topics relating to Protestant, Catholic, and Islamic antisemitism. In October 2018, the EKD announced the creation of an endowed professorship for promoting a Christian-Jewish dialog, to be established at Berlin’s Humboldt University. This, at least, would be a modest first step, even if the question remains open of how the fundamental critique of Christian anti-Judaism will ultimately be positioned in this field.

The Uses of the Report on Antisemitism | 23

In drawing a conclusion, it emerges that the regular reports on antisemitism are an important step in the right direction. However, they cannot be the end point, but only the beginning in the fight against antisemitism. Thus, the demand that the financial support for prevention should be expanded is certainly correct. But it must be preceded by structural reforms. The federal government and the Länder ought to introduce programs that give an institutional home to research on antisemitism and right-wing radicalism. The syllabi of public schools, as well as those of the training of the police and of lawyers, must be fundamentally complemented by teaching on antisemitism, on the one hand, and by Jewish history, on the other. This should be done in such a way that these topics continuously accompany middle and high school instruction. If, on top of this, the legal foundations of the fight against antisemitism were to be adapted to the realities of existing antisemitism, progress could be made. This would involve not only the criminal prosecution of Holocaust deniers, but also of all forms of antisemitism. This could be achieved with the help of a coordinator who is independent, fully funded, and endowed with executive powers, and who, jointly with a permanent committee of experts, would publish reports on antisemitism. These measures would establish a base that would not merely react in a panic to fresh antisemitic incidents that occur at ever shorter intervals. Rather, these incidents would be reduced through a cooperation between scholarly research, prevention in schools, and education outside school attendance, as well as prosecution by the police and the courts. Democracy would thus be strengthened.

Samuel Salzborn is an adjunct professor for political science at the Institute for Political Science at the University of Giessen, Germany. He received his doctorate in 2004 from the University of Cologne and habilitated at the University of Giessen in 2009. His main research areas are political theory, political sociology, and democracy, with a special focus on right-wing extremism and antisemitism research. Among his latest books is The Modern State and Its Enemies: Democracy, Nationalism and Antisemitism (London/New York, 2020).

Notes 1. Deutscher Bundestag, Antrag der Fraktionen CDU/CSU, SPD, FDP, und Bündnis 90/ Die Grünen: Den Kampf gegen Antisemitismus verstärken, jüdisches Leben in Deutschland weiter fördern, 16. Wahlperiode, Drucksache 16/10775 (new), 4 November 2008, http://dip21.bundestag.de/dip21/btd/16/107/1610775.pdf. 2. Expertenkreis Antisemitismus, Antisemitismus in Deutschland—Erscheinungsformen, Bedingungen, Präventionsansätze: Bericht des unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus (Berlin: Bundesministerium des Innern, 2011), retrieved 28 November 2018 from https://d-nb.info/1017475164/04.

24 | Nothing New in Europe? 3. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus, 18. Wahlperiode, Drucksache 18/11970, 7 April 2017, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://www.bundestag.de/resource/blob/503858/d53b102fedfe3b2dd7dcc862aad 673ab/antisemtismusbericht_bericht-data.pdf. 4. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus. 5. Moishe Postone, “Die Logik des Antisemitismus,” Merkur. Deutsche Zeitschrift für europäisches Denken 36, no. 403 (1982): 13–25. 6. Jean-Paul Sartre, “Portrait de l’antisémite,” Les Temps moderns 1, no. 3 (1945): 442–70. 7. Samuel Salzborn, Antisemitismus als negative Leitidee der Moderne. Sozialwissenschaftliche Theorien im Vergleich (Frankfurt: Campus Verlag, 2010). 8. Theodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia. Reflexionen aus dem beschädigten Leben. Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Rolf Tiedemann, vol. 4 (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1997), 125. 9. Samuel Salzborn, Antisemitismus. Geschichte, Theorie, Empirie (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2014), 11–13. 10. Samuel Salzborn, Globaler Antisemitismus. Eine Spurensuche in den Abgrűnden der Moderne (Weinheim: Beltz, 2018). 11. David Gelernter, “Warum Amerika? Bin Ladins Haß ist Judenhaß,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 27 October 2001, 39. 12. Salzborn, Antisemitismus. Geschichte, Theorie, Empirie, 103–15. 13. Samuel Salzborn, Kampf der Ideen. Die Geschichte politischer Theorien im Kontext, 2nd exp. ed. (Weinheim: Nomos, 2017). 14. Andrei S. Markovits, Uncouth Nation: Why Europe Dislikes America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007). 15. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus, 52. 16. Ibid., 90. 17. Ibid., 203. 18. Ibid., 153. 19. Samuel Salzborn, “Antisemitism in the ‘Alternative for Germany’ Party,” German Politics and Society 36, no. 3 (2018): 74–93. 20. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus, 146–47. 21. Dana Ionescu and Samuel Salzborn, Antisemitismus in deutschen Parteien (BadenBaden: Nomos, 2014). 22. Monika Schwarz-Friesel, Antisemitismus 2.0 und die Netzkultur des Hasses. Judenfeindschaft als kulturelle Konstante und kollektiver Gefűhlswert im digitalen Zeitalter (Berlin: Technische Universität Berlin, 2018). An English-language translation is available at https://www.linguistik.tu-berlin.de/fileadmin/fg72/Antisemitism_2.0_short_vers ion_final.pdf. 23. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus, 193. 24. Ibid.

chapter

2 Antisemitism in Europe Then and Now Moshe Zimmermann

When does the history of antisemitism begin? The almost automatic response to this question is: Antisemitism is as old as the history of mankind or, to be more precise, as the history of the Jews. It emerged at the latest when Abraham, the arch-father of Jewry, became Jewish—that is, about 3,500 years ago. However, this reply is problematic for two epistemological reasons. To begin with, Abraham was not a Jew, but a Hebrew; second, it was only in 1879 that the concept of “antisemitism” gained currency. So, let me start with the later date and the invention of the word “antisemitism” that aimed at replacing older terms such as “Judeophobia,” “Jew-baiting” and “Jew hatred,” when the German journalist Wilhelm Marr, the creator of the neologism, was of the opinion that traditional notions were outdated. The word “Jew” and the concept of “Judeophobia” are linked to the religious association of men and women of this particular group. In the age of secularization—so Marr and his associates believed—nature and “race,” rather than religion, were the yardsticks by which the belonging of humans was determined.1 This was the dividing line between “us” and the “others.” With the emancipation of the Jews and other groups in Western societies during the nineteenth century, the Judeophobic argument in its traditional religious guise did indeed lose weight. Judeophobes now looked for new arguments to justify their attitudes. Accordingly, alleged “racial” differences were deployed to explain, beyond the old and no longer applicable religious differences, the character of the “social question” or the “Jewish question” to buttress a hostility against Jews. What was new to this kind of Judeophobia was the assertion that conversion to Christianity no longer provided a way out. Jews could not abandon their belonging to a Jewish collective, as they remained “Semites” even after

26 | Nothing New in Europe?

their conversion. Deciding to convert did not turn them into “Aryans.” They could not become members of another “race” or nation. Ever since 1879, racism is therefore a key element of Judeophobia. In the imagination of antisemites, Jews were the only people to be considered “Semites” in nineteenth-century Europe. Although they used the neologism in order to distance themselves from older notions associated with religion, the new antisemites integrated the prejudices of traditional Judeophobia and also pre-existing slogans directed against Jews into their dictionary and continued to use them. In short, antisemitism was the extension of traditional Judeophobia, with racist ideas providing an additional component. However, the terms caused bewilderment as long as the notion of “Semites” was taken seriously. There was also the assumption that there existed “Semitic” peoples beyond the Jews. This confusion led the Nazis to question Marr’s concept. After all, they wanted to fight the Jews and not others, and so they began to search for a replacement, for whoever believes in the existence of Semitic peoples friendly to the Third Reich cannot conceive of an antisemitism directed against Arabs. However, since the notion of such peoples has no base in serious scholarship, and since the political doubts that the Nazis harbored are no longer relevant, and finally because antisemitism was in the end nothing other than Judeophobia, the alleged contradiction evaporates, and today we can speak also of an Arab antisemitism. Let me therefore get back to the beginnings: the term “Jew” as we know it was used repeatedly in the Bible only in the book of Esther, and in a few instances also in the books of Jeremiah and Nehemiah. Up to that point, the Bible used notions such as the “Hebrews,” the “People of Israel,” or the “Sons of Israel.” In the Hellenist and Roman world, and subsequently in Christian society, people inevitably met Jews. It was an encounter that led to an attitude we call Judeophobia today. The history of the collective resentment against Jews and the history of Judeophobia is thus roughly two thousand years old. A later phase of this history in which the term “antisemitism” established itself has until now lasted some 130 years. No less problematic than defining the term itself and the period when it emerged is the question of how widespread antisemitism has been. Apart from its spread, there is also the problem of how unambiguous and virulent antisemitic resentments were in a society on which we look with the benefit of hindsight. Can the phenomenon of antisemitism and Judeophobia be captured statistically? When it comes to these phenomena, can different societies be systematically compared? Is it possible to speak, more or less, of varieties of antisemitism, depending on place and time? 2 In order to be able to answer these and further questions, it is necessary to have a clear definition of the term. In defining antisemitism, it is hardly sufficient to refer to the well-known joke that it means “to hate Jews more

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than they deserve.” The task is rather to examine why Jews as an alleged “race,” nation, religious community, or social group were, on account of a prejudice, tarred indiscriminately. In most cases, antisemitic prejudice is seen as part of a broader syndrome propelled by religiosity, ethnocentrism, or racism. However, the prejudice does not remain confined to the antisemitic mind. It can also trigger social, political, and life-threatening actions, at which point the prejudice turns into an acute danger for its Jewish victims. The “Jewish question,” and thus antisemitism, gains further relevance if it is used to distract from a host of problems that have quite different societal roots. Antisemitism is all the more radical the more glaring these problems are—and the more urgent and usable the policies of diversion. In these circumstances, the policies and actions of the antisemites can become correspondingly extreme.

Comparisons and Analysis It is indeed possible to make comparisons between divergent societies and ages with regard to the spread of antisemitic prejudices, and also analyze the moment when prejudices are put into practice. Representative surveys facilitate international comparisons. If these are conducted over a longer period, it is also possible to examine long-term trends. Do these surveys reveal that, in comparison with earlier periods, antisemitism was stronger or weaker? Are there new components in the behavior of antisemites, and have some of them weakened? Statistical data relating to antisemitic activities can be retrieved from police files, reports in the media, and scholarly research. However, these sources do not just speak for themselves. The compilation of any statistical table depends in the first instance on how a deed is defined and how it or a criminal act are recorded and judged. Is the statement that “Jews are outstanding business people” as such antisemitic? Are all assaults on Jews motivated by antisemitism? However, if in the process of the systematic inquiry of the phenomenon, comparison is a useful approach, it becomes possible to find an answer to the questions of “more” or “less,” of “the same” or “different,” of “today” as compared to “once upon a time,” of “here” and “elsewhere.” Even before 1933, the question of antisemitism in Europe was being studied in an international comparative framework. However, as long as there was no systematic statistical research, any comparison was intuitive, or at least it was not based on the application of a representative sample. After 1933, the question was being asked whether Germany was predestined to practice the most radical version of antisemitism. Daniel Goldhagen spoke of an ingrained “eliminationist antisemitism” of the Germans, with his book triggering vigorous opposition and debate.3 Who was right? George Mosse has pointed to the paradoxical situation in which historians as observers found themselves when

28 | Nothing New in Europe?

he made the following astounding statement: “If one had asked the average citizen before World War I, if he could conceive of something like the ‘Final Solution of the Jewish Question,’ the reply would have been, Yes, this is imaginable. After all, one never knows what the French are planning.”4 German society was not reputed to be particularly antisemitic, at least not in comparison to Tsarist Russia with its pogroms or to France with its Dreyfus Affair. And yet we know in retrospect that some fifteen years after the end of the war, the most radical “solution of the Jewish question” emerged in Germany. This paradox lies at the foundation of subsequent debates of whether the origins of the Shoah should be seen exclusively within the context of antisemitism and how far other developments must be included in order to explain this particular chapter of Jewish history. Today, at least most historians no longer accept that there exists a monocausal connection between antisemitism and the Shoah. After 1945, modern tools of analysis were developed that made a systematic comparison possible. These tools helped and continue to help us to measure the extent of antisemitism, to make comparisons, and also to follow antisemitism across the decades and centuries. In the meantime, it has also become clear that antisemitism has been on the retreat in Europe, including in Germany. However, this decline was not equally balanced but has remained subject to periodic and regional ups and downs that can be explained within the context of more general societal and political developments. It is not surprising that research on antisemitism after 1945 should focus on Germany and after 1949 on the Federal Republic. An investigation by the Office of Military Government, United States (OMGUS) of 1946 found that some 40 percent of the population continued to take up positions that were clearly antisemitic.5 There are also the findings that, up to the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, this figure declined to 15–20 percent. Most of the systematic surveys that have been conducted in reunified Germany have found that this figure experienced only short-term variations around 15–20 percent and that there was no statistically tangible upward trend.6 This downward trend has continued. The 2017 Report of the Independent Commission of Experts on Antisemitism that Samuel Salzborn discusses in some detail in this volume came to the following conclusion: “Representative surveys among the German population that have been undertaken in the past fifteen years show a continual decline of classic antisemitic attitudes that has continued in 2016.”7 The document added that “in 2016 six percent of the German population agreed with [the positions of] classic antisemitism.” Data supplied by the Pew Research Center concerning the tendency in Germany and France between 2011 and 2016 show a tendency toward a more favorable opinion of Jews.8 A reliable indicator of antisemitic attitudes in a particular society is the assertion that Jews possess too much influence in that country. A study that the Friedrich Ebert Foundation (FES) conducted in 2011 demonstrated that,

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in comparative perspective, antisemitic attitudes were noticeably stronger in Eastern than in Western Europe.9 With regard to the alleged great influence of Jews in their country, only about 20 percent agreed with this assertion in Western Europe. At the same time, some 50 percent of the Polish population agreed, and in Hungary it was even 70 percent. In other words, the average figures for antisemitic attitudes are markedly higher in Poland and Hungary than in Western Europe, with the lowest percentages recorded in the Netherlands and Britain. Since antisemitism is a special case of racism, it is not surprising that the responses to questions testing racist attitudes showed a clear correlation with antisemitic attitudes. According to this study, reunified Germany— as was to be expected—appears among the West European cases.10 Yet studies that deployed modern statistical methods could not always provide a clear answer regarding the extent of, or trends of, German and European antisemitism, since the definition of antisemitism had been changed or had been “expanded.” Additions were made to the definition, as has been cited above. The shift began with a differentiation between a “classic” and a “secondary” antisemitism. All of the phenomena that I have discussed so far fall into the subcategory of “classic antisemitism.” The latter refers primarily to the ways in which the Shoah is being treated by antisemites—that is, it is denied and also minimized. It is asserted that “nowadays Jews try to gain advantages [from the fact] that they had been the victims” during the Nazi period.11 This is a sort of litmus test of the prevalence of antisemitism, and the FES Study concluded that 49 percent of Germans agreed with this statement. Only in Hungary was this percentage even higher, at around 70 percent.12 Does this mean that about half of the German population are “secondary antisemites”? This result could have been different if the questionnaire merely spoke of “Jews” instead of “the Jews.” Another modification could be made by asking if Israel is using the memory of the Shoah in order to influence German attitudes toward the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. A representative survey conducted in Israel in 2009 found that 31.5 percent of Israeli Jews responded with a clear acceptance of this statement. This means that in this respect there is quite a wide “gray zone,” so expanding the notion of antisemitism becomes problematic.13 Even more problematic was the second postwar category, an antisemitism focused on Israel or an “Israel-related antisemitism.” In other words, a critique that is directed against Israel—that is, against the state of Jews—is deemed antisemitic. This kind of antisemitism could, of course, not exist before the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. Turning Israel into a new front of antisemitic attacks thus did not merely broaden its front lines, but also led to a new definition of the term itself. This development is paradoxical for two reasons. To begin with, it was Theodor Herzl, the father of the Jewish state, who invented the Zionist solution with the aim of reducing antisemitic prejudice, and even of overcoming it.14 If the state of his dreams led to the transforma-

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tion and even the strengthening of antisemitism, his “solution of the Jewish question” was not more successful than the “solution” that Herzl’s opponents believed in—that is, Jewish emancipation wherever Jews lived, primarily in the diaspora. Herzl, moreover, started from the consideration that antisemites would support his Zionist program because it was a method of getting rid of the Jews. Accordingly, he tried to convince the Russian tsar and the German emperor that his program made sense. Later on, even the then-called Third Reich became interested in a successful Zionism. In the view of the Nazis, Jewish emigration from Germany and Europe to Palestine would advance their policies of “deleting” Jews from their territories. If he lived today, Herzl would have to ask himself where antisemitism that targets Israel stems from. If the founding of the State of Israel has in fact contributed to an antisemitism that is directed against Israel and against diaspora Jews who support Israel, does this mean that the creation of this state is counterproductive to the fight against antisemitism and to being a Zionist in the age of postcolonialism? If, on top of this, one consults survey data, it turns out that the so-called Israel-focused, Israel-related antisemitism is much more strongly represented in European society than the arguments of “classic” antisemitism. When it comes to the reproach that “in light of Israel’s policies I can well understand that Jews are disliked,” some 35 percent of the German population agree, while a mere 20 percent subscribe to the “classic” antisemitic view that “Jews have too much influence in our country.” Even more marked is the contrast between these two positions in the Netherlands: 41 percent versus 6 percent, with a British ratio of 36 percent versus 14 per cent.15 Finally, if we go back to the 2017 Report of the Commission of Experts, some 6 percent of the German population adhered to the classic notion of antisemitism, 26 percent to the secondary one, and some 40 percent to an antisemitism that focused on Israel.16

A “New Antisemitism” What set in motion the process of a broadening and expansion of the notion of antisemitism was, above all, the founding of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA), known before 2013 as the Task Force for International Cooperation on Holocaust Education, Remembrance, and Research of 1998, followed by Stockholm Declaration of the International Holocaust Forum of 29 January 2000. The new definition was officially adopted in 2015. The IHRA developed a “working definition for antisemitism” that read as follows: “Antisemitism is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.” The IHRA fur-

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ther explains that “Manifestations might include the targeting of the State of Israel, conceived as a Jewish collectivity.”17 The statement then provides a number of examples for an antisemitic cast of mind, including “drawing comparisons between contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis” and “holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the State of Israel.”18 Most of the examples of antisemitic attitude provided by the IHRA focus on Israel, not on “classical” antisemitism. It is thus evident that the founding of the State of Israel did not solve the problem of antisemitism, but merely defined it anew. Or it played an important role when it came to the transformation of antisemitic potentials into an acute antisemitism. Ultimately, it is no surprise that a latent antisemitism can, at certain times and in certain societies, change to a virulent one. Israel as a Jewish state and, above all, Israeli policies provided antisemites with a pretext to raise their voice more openly. Indeed, the authors of the “working definition” similarly started from the assumption that a criticism of Israeli policies was not necessarily identical with Israel-focused antisemitism. Accordingly, a wide gray zone came into being that is characterized by a good deal of uncertainty as to whether or not one has trespassed into antisemitic territory. The discussions of the Commission of Experts that had been established by the German Federal Parliament frequently revolved around the question of how far positions that are critical of Israel should be categorized as antisemitism. It is at this juncture that the interests of those dealing with this topic decide on what answer is to be given. Perhaps it should be admitted that those who vehemently support Israeli policies tend to overload the notion of an Israelfocused antisemitism. Another reason there is a question of whether anti-Israeli attitudes and protest can be characterized as antisemitic is to be found in the fact that Israel officially does not merely define itself as a Jewish state—that is, as a state for Jews, as Theodor Herzl programmatically proposed in the title of the book he published in 1895,19 but also as a Jewish state in the sense of a state with a Jewish character (whatever this may mean) that can claim the sole representation of the collectivity of the Jewish people around the world. Agreeing with this claim means in the final analysis that the differentiation between Jews in Israel and Jews in the diaspora is being removed, and this in turn might be perceived as an absorption of the Jewish diaspora by Israeli politics. Although it is a more general problem, this blurring of the issue touches on sensibilities in Germany arising from the peculiarities of German history: it is after all the persistent attempt, to expiate for the Shoah, to learn from the history of National Socialism and to distance oneself from all kinds of antisemitism. This quest counsels extreme caution, also in recognizing the Israeli claim to represent all of Jewry. It is a German attitude that is based on a philosemitism whose roots—as is well known—are to be found in the same soil as antisemitism—that is, in

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negative or positive preconceived ideas toward Jews. This in turn leads to an over-reaction with respect to an Israel-focused antisemitism. Thus, when in 2017 the Israeli flag was burned during a demonstration in Berlin, a flag that displays at its center the Star of David, the incident rallied “good Germans” to demand the introduction of special legislation to ban such incidents once and for all, not just because an Israeli symbol was desecrated, but because the Star of David is automatically associated with the Judenstern, a symbol that the Nazis forced all German Jews to wear during the Third Reich. Similarly, Israelfocused antisemitism has also moved increasingly center stage in scholarly research on this type of antisemitism—research that tends to deem even the slightest criticism of Israel as antisemitic.20 However, the “triple combination” of classic, secondary, and Israel-focused antisemitism is but one way of broadening its meaning. The debate on a “new antisemitism” that has reappeared frequently also contributes to widening the fight against antisemitism politically, and to do so on a more extended basis than in the past. The notion of a “new antisemitism” first cropped up, not only in Germany, quite massively toward the end of the 1960s. What was at stake was the issue of a “left-wing antisemitism” that had been spreading among left-wing radicals of the so-called Generation of 1968 and was directed against Israel as part of the struggle against Western imperialism. This critique began to assume Judeophobic characteristics. The attempt to bomb a Jewish community center in Berlin in 1969, as well as the arguments put forward in connection with the fate of the Palestinians following the Israeli occupation of 1967, unleashed a lively discussion relating to the “new” antisemitism among “the Left”—that is, Germans who, since the Imperial period, had traditionally not been deemed antisemitic.21 The shift of attention to this “left antisemitism” in the Federal Republic helped to distract from the stronger and more persistent antisemitism of the Right. These became the seeds of a debate on an antisemitism that focused on Israel. It is a debate that continues to this day. It was not just the radical Left that became a target of criticism; it ultimately also spilled over into the Social Democratic Party, as can be seen from a recently published book by Michael Wolffsohn.22 In a 1969 article, Jean Améry wrote that antisemitism was “contained in anti-Israelism or anti-Zionism like a thunderstorm in the clouds,” and today, he added, this antisemitism is about to become an integral part of socialism as a whole.23 However, what is often not taken into consideration is that this verdict was inadequate for an analysis of the Left since 1969. This was because, inter alia, Israel’s policies provided and continue to provide ample cause for a matter-of-fact and honest critique. The notion of a “new” antisemitism, even if by now it is no longer quite so new, is being used by politicians on the Right, including Israeli politicians, who since 1977 have come to represent

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governments of the nationalist Right.24 Meanwhile, the radical Left underwent a somewhat paradoxical development. Since the 1990s and even more emphatically since the start of the twenty-first century, the leftist students who call themselves “anti-Germans” present themselves as fanatical friends of Israel and Israeli policies and consider themselves a necessary counter to the critics of Israel.25 If attempts are made to forget or play down right-wing antisemitism, it is also linked to the fact that right-wing populism and the right-extremist politics in Germany endeavor to redefine their own priorities. As Stefan Rochow, the then chair of the youth organization of the Nationaldemokratische Partei (NPD), put it in 2008: “I do not regard random policies, especially those against the Jewish minority, as an Islamization that is inadequate to the times. I consider this much, much more important than the topic of [the role of] Jews.”26 However, antisemitic outrages on the right of the political spectrum— like the attack on the synagogue in Halle in 2019—demonstrate that what is involved is an attitude that is as anti-Muslim as it is antisemitic. Nor are criminal acts the decisive yardstick for the power of prejudices. What it is about is the quest to remove the taboo from antisemitic positionings in German society, a development that has become noticeable in recent years. And last but by no means least: according to the Report of the Commission of Experts there is a nine-to-one ratio in the proportion of antisemitic criminal acts of the Right in comparison to the Left. The prevalence of antisemitic attitudes among supporters of Alternative for Germany (AfD) should likewise not be overlooked. Supporters of this party record the highest percentages both for classic and also for Israel-focused antisemitism compared to the other parties represented in the Federal Parliament.27 The “new” new antisemitism emerged on 11 September 2001 at the latest and was related to the presence and increase of Muslim and Arab populations in Germany and Europe. As has been mentioned, these men and women also thought and acted in antisemitic patterns. But these groups were gaining so much attention that it gave rise to the impression that they were the main carriers of antisemitic attitudes in Europe and Germany. In his 1986 book “Semites and Antisemites,” the influential historian Bernard Lewis produced a pioneering work.28 Of course, he did not deny that the discriminations against Jews in the Christian world of the Middle Ages were much more radical than in Muslim societies. However, when it came to the modern period and especially to the twentieth century, his perspectives changed. At this point Lewis spoke of an “Islamization of Antisemitism” and of a “war against the Jews.” This could leave the readers of this and of Lewis’s other books with the impression that antisemitism had, in the twentieth century, become inseparable from Arabs and Muslims. It is true that antisemitism became more relevant for these populations, especially in the context of the

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conflict in the Middle East and its confrontation with European policies. Those who confronted Israel were able to gain fresh arguments from the arsenals of antisemitism in order to combat Zionism (and the United States). The differences between what was Zionist, Israeli, and Jewish became largely blurred. To some extent, the antisemitism of the Muslim-Arab world was an import from Europe (also as part of Nazi propaganda in the Arab world during World War II)29 that was being reused in the Middle East. And with the migrations from North Africa and the Middle East, this antisemitism was now carried back into Europe. Although, according to statistics, criminal acts motivated by antisemitism committed by the Right compared to the Left and also those of Muslims are far higher, public discussion has been increasingly inclined to focus on the Muslim-Arab “new antisemitism.” Two historians, Robert Wistrich and Jeffrey Herf,30 are representative of this trend; some dramatic media events, such as demonstrations against Israeli policies in Gaza or the assault, in a Berlin neighborhood, by a young Syrian perpetrated against two Jews that was accompanied by antisemitic slurs, serve as proof. These incidents appear to have turned the attention of the public to giving credence to this “new” Muslim-Arab antisemitism. However, research in this field arrived at another conclusion. Systematic interviews with migrants in Germany yielded two results: (1) The attitudes toward Jews and Israel among these interviewees were very varied, quite “similar to those among the German majority” society.31 Accordingly, the authors of this study could not find “a causal connection between the religious identity as Muslims and antisemitic attitudes.” (2.) No significant proof could be found between a growth of antisemitic incidents and the presence of refugees from the Middle East and North Africa.32 And yet there can be no doubt that we can speak of a “new” antisemitism in recent years. However, it is not related to a broadening of this term. Rather, it has to be seen in connection with those modern media platforms that spread antisemitic as well as other information and disinformation. There is now a digital antisemitism as well as information that is available online and related to social networks. The Internet advances an antisemitism that is no longer affected by taboos and aggressively and effectively contributes to the proliferation of “the rumors about Jews” that Theodor Adorno referred to long ago.33 A project funded by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft worked to shed light on the peculiarities of this component of German antisemitism in order to produce evidence that could be quantified.34 It came to the overall conclusion that “antisemitisms have strongly grown during the past ten years [and that] a semantic radicalization has occurred in the process.” However, it is an open question as to whether this conclusion is methodologically flawless for users of the digital universe and whether this conclusion is not generally valid for the world outside this realm. One thing is indisputable, though: on

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the Internet, all inhibitions disappear that have hitherto acted as restraints on using traditional methods of communication. It is an important public task to sensitize the public to these problems. However, in my view, the notion of antisemitism has also become overloaded, especially where Israel-focused and Muslim antisemitism are concerned. To give an example: the reproach of “pink washing”—that is, that Israel has given equality to LGBTQ in order to distract from the political repression of the Palestinians—is not necessarily a product of an imaginary Israeli conspiracy promoted by antisemites. Enumerating Israel’s “positive values” (i.e., references to democracy, an independent judiciary, a free press, and humanitarian aid, etc.) in order to refute this fantasy in my view loses its credibility in light of the policies that the Israeli government has pursued in recent years. All attempts to arrive at a reliable estimate of the size and pervasiveness of a danger of antisemitism merely yielded one marked difference between Jews and non-Jews. According to the Report of the Commission of Experts, only about one-fifth of non-Jewish society see the presence of antisemitism as a problem or as a problem to be acknowledged as such. Among Jews, this percentage amounts to three-quarters of those interviewed. To be sure, a greater sensitivity is to be expected among the victims of a particular prejudice. Nevertheless, the above percentages raise the question of whether the two parts of society adhere to the same definition of antisemitism. Victimized groups tend to use their belonging to a particular minority to explain the attitudes of their social environment at large. This sensibility is opaquely visible in the interviews published in this volume. In my view, the following quote from one of these interviewees provides a telling example: “As a private person I did not experience any antisemitism, but during my work in synagogues and in Dachau, phrases have been dropped from time to time such as ‘You Jews like to marry among yourselves.’”35 As is so often the case, the suspicion of antisemitism does not rest on what one has experienced, but on information derived from the media and the social environment. It frequently remains unclear whether an incident that one considers antisemitic is in fact motivated by antisemitism. Moreover, the comment on marriage within one’s own group is in itself not yet a transgression of factual insight. In the past, endogamy was viewed as a guarantee against assimilation, just as it still is among orthodox or Zionist Jews today. It was not a “rumor” but a method of generating collective solidarity. Consequently, this example cannot be counted as a definite sign of a confrontation with antisemitism. What is important is a perspective that is clearly articulated in the interviews—that is, that antisemitism should not be fought in isolation and not at all as a phenomenon sui generis. As one interviewee put it, “whoever hates Jews, also hates other minorities.”36 Born in Poland, she continued: “In this sense I see a clear correlation between antisemitism and the rejection of other

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minorities.” This insight is the historical lesson that applies to Germany just as much as it applies to other countries. If anything is to be learned from the history of antisemitism, it is not just that antisemitism can lead to catastrophe, as once happened there, but also that the objects of hatred and prejudice are exchangeable. This is clearly reflected in how the politics of memory is being treated. Since the end of the war in 1945, the collective memory of the Germans, the Europeans, and Christians is being used as a warning against antisemitism, racism, and fascism. However, in recent years this culture of memory has been challenged, and there are plenty of examples of this. An extreme case that clearly falls under the rubric of “secondary antisemitism” occurred in January 2017 when the AfD politician Björn Höcke uttered the following: “We Germans are the only people in the world that has put up a monument of shame in the heart of its capital.”37 The intent of the speaker was unmistakable: by removing this monument, erected in memory of the Shoah next to the Brandenburg Gate, he proposed to pave the way for obliterating the most extreme outburst of antisemitism in history. This is what the speaker implied, and this is also what his audience understood: “We need nothing less than a turn of 180 degrees in our politics of memory.”38 If this is to happen, we must write the history of antisemitism anew. Moshe Zimmermann is a historian and Professor Emeritus of Modern History at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Until his retirement in 2012, he was director of the Richard Koebner Institute of German History at the Hebrew University. The central topics of his work are the history of nationalism and antisemitism, as well as German-Jewish and German-Israeli relations, and he has repeatedly visited Germany for research. As a member of the German-Israeli Textbook Conference, he wrote a large number of textbooks for teaching history in Israeli schools.

Notes 1. Moshe Zimmermann. Wilhelm Marr: The Patriarch of Antisemitism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). For the history of antisemitism see also Peter Pulzer, The Rise of Political Antisemitism in Germany and Austria (London: Peter Halban, 1988); Jacob Katz, From Prejudice to Destruction (Cambridge, MA: Harvard 1982). 2. David Engel, “Away from a Definition of Antisemitism: An Essay in the Semantics of Historical Description,” in Rethinking European Jewish History, ed. Jeremy Cohen and Moshe Rosman, Littman Library of Jewish Civilization series (Oxford: Liverpool University Press, 2009), 30‒53. (The Hebrew historical Journal Zion published in 2020 a special volume with a collection of reactions to Engel’s article.) 3. Daniel Goldhagen. Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1996).

Antisemitism in Europe | 37 4. George Mosse made this statement quite often when talking about Nazi antisemitism. 5. Anna Merritt and Richard Merritt, Public Opinion in Occupied Germany: The OMGUS Surveys 1945–1949 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1970). 6. Werner Bergmann and Rainer Erb, Antisemitism and Xenophobia in Germany after Unification (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). 7. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus, 18. Wahlperiode, Drucksache 18/11970, 7 April 2017, retrieved on 11 March 2021 from https://www.bundestag.de/resource/blob/503858/d53b102fedfe3b2dd7dcc862aad673 ab/antisemtismusbericht_bericht-data.pdf ; see also Samuel Salzborn’s chapter in this volume. 8. David Feldman, Antisemitism and Immigration in Western Europe Today: A Five Nations Study (London: Pears Institute for the Study of Antisemitism, University of London, 2018), 18. 9. Andreas Zick, Beate Küpper, and Andreas Hövermann, Intolerance, Prejudice and Discrimination: A European Report (Berlin: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 2018), 57 10. Ibid., 65–69. 11. Andreas Zick, Beate Küpper, and Wilhelm Berghan, Verlorene Mitte Feindselige Zustände. Rechtsextreme Einstellungen in Deutschland, for the Friedrich Ebert Foundation (Berlin: Dietz, 2018/2019). 12. Ibid., 57. 13. Institute of Public Opinion & Marketing Research of Israel (PORI), Public Opinion Poll Israeli-German Relations, commissioned by the Koebner Center, Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 2009. 14. Theodor Herzl, Der Judenstaat (Leipzig: M. Breitenstein, 1896); Derek Penzlar, Theodor Herzl: The Charismatic Leader (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2020). 15. Zick, Küpper, and Hövermann, Intolerance, Prejudice and Discrimination, 57. 16. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus. 17. IHRA (The International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance), an intergovernmental organization founded in Stockholm 1998. The “working definition” of antisemitism was adopted in 2016. See IHRA, “Working Definition of Antisemitism,” International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance, 2016, https://www.holocaustremembrance.com/ resources/working-definitions-charters/working-definition-antisemitism. 18. IHRA, “Working Definition of Antisemitism.” 19. Herzl, Der Judenstaat, see note 13. 20. Eunice G. Pollack (ed.), From Antisemitism to Anti-Zionism: The Past and Present of a Lethal Ideology (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2017); Alvin H. Rosenfeld, “The Longest Hatred Renewed: A Tribute to Robert Wistrich,” Antisemitism Studies 1, no. 1 (2017): 116–29. 21. Wolfgang Kraushaar, Die Bombe im jüdischen Gemeindehaus (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 2005). 22. Michael Wolffsohn, Friedenskanzler? Willy Brandt zwischen Krieg und Terror (Munich: dtv Verlagsgesellschaft, 2018). 23. Jean Améry, “Der ehrbare Antisemitismus,” in Widersprüche (Frankfurt am Main: Ullstein, 1980), 242–49. Originally printed in Die Zeit, 25 July 1969. 24. Cf. Thomas Haury, Antisemitismus von Links: Kommunistische Ideologie, Nationalismus und Antizionismus in der frühen DDR (Hamburg: Hamburger Edition, 2002). 25. Peter Ullrich, “Neuer Antisemitismus von Links?,” Berliner Debatte Initial 19, no. 1/2 (2008): 57–69. 26. Albert Scherr and Barbara Schäuble, “‘Wir’ und ‘die Juden’: Gegenwärtiger Antisemitismus als Differenzkonstruktion,” Berliner Debatte Initial 19, no. 1/2 (2008): 3–14.

38 | Nothing New in Europe? 27. Deutscher Bundestag, Bericht des Unabhängigen Expertenkreises Antisemitismus. 28. Bernard Lewis, Semites and Anti-Semites (London: Norton, 1986). 29. Cf. Klaus-Michael Mallmann and Martin Cüppers, Nazi Palestine: The Plans for the Extermination of the Jews in Palestine (New York: Enigma Books, 2010). 30. Jeffrey Herf, Nazi Propaganda for the Arab World (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2009); Robert Wistrich, A Lethal Obsession: Antisemitism from Antiquity to the Global Jihad (New York: Random House, 2010). 31. Sina Arnold and Jana König, “Antisemitismus im Kontext von Willkommens- und Ablehnungskultur,” Jahrbuch für Antisemitismusforschung 26 (2017): 303–26; Sa’ed Atshan and Katharina Galor, The Moral Triangle: Germans, Israelis, Palestinian (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2020). 32. Mathias Berek, “Importierter Antisemitismus? Zum Zusammenhang von Migration, Islam und Antisemitismus in Deutschland,” Jahrbuch für Antisemitismusforschung 26 (2017): 327–60. 33. Theodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia. Reflexionen aus dem beschädigten Leben. Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Rolf Tiedemann, vol. 4 (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1997). 34. The results of this DFG project are in Monika Schwarz-Friesel, Antisemitismus 2.0 und die Netzkultur des Hasses. Judenfeindschaft als kulturelle Konstante und kollektiver Gefühlswert im Digitalen Zeitalter (Berlin: Technische Universität Berlin, 2018). An English-language translation is available at https://www.linguistik.tu-berlin.de/filead min/fg72/Antisemitism_2.0_short_version_final.pdf. 35. Interview, Shimrit Sutter-Schreiber (see chapter 7). 36. Interview, Miri Freilich (see chapter 13). 37. Björn Höcke’s speech in Dresden on 17 January 2017 (complete text of the speech in Der Tagesspiegel, 19 January 2017, retrieved 28 January 2021 from https://www .tagesspiegel.de/politik/hoecke-rede-im-wortlaut-gemuetszustand-eines-total-besieg ten-volkes/19273518.html). 38. Ibid.

Part

II Structured Biographical Interviews

chapter

3 Ronny Hollaender

For me Israel is a safe haven. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1988 Petach Tikva, Israel Ra’anana, Israel Jerusalem, Israel Winemaker and food engineer

The Story of My Family My maternal grandmother is originally from Poland. She survived the Second World War together with her family. My father’s dad is originally from Nitra, Czechoslovakia, where the family owned a winery. His entire family survived the war; they escaped to Hungary. They were saved because one of the workers had warned them about an imminent deportation of Jews. But in Hungary, my grandfather was captured and deported to Auschwitz and from there to Dachau. All the other family members were hidden in a bunker in Budapest. After the war, my grandfather and his brother emigrated to Palestine in 1946. The latter was killed in the Independence War of 1948, nine days after the State of Israel was established. As a consequence, his parents and sister left Slovakia. My mother’s father was born in Krakow, Poland, in 1925 to a religious Jewish family. He is the only member of his family who survived the Holocaust. He was imprisoned first in the Ghetto of Krakow, and then brought to the nearby concentration camp Plaszow. From there he was deported to the concentration camp Mauthausen in Austria, where he was liberated in 1945. Due to the Holocaust, he did not have any professional training. He stayed in Austria and worked for many years in a bank.

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My maternal grandmother was born in Jerusalem in 1938. Her parents managed to escape Nazi Germany together with most other family members. Since she was born before the establishment of the State of Israel, she is “Palestinian.” At that time, the territory of Israel was called Palestine under the British mandate. When she was older, she went to London to study. There she met my grandfather, who had come for the wedding of his cousin. They got married and settled down in Vienna, where my grandmother still lives today. My mother was born in Austria in 1962. She was raised there together with her seven brothers and sisters. My father was born and raised in Israel. Both my parents had a religious education; my mother even grew up in an ultra-Orthodox environment. They met in 1982 in Israel and got married in 1983. Since then they have lived in Israel.

My Own Story I was born in 1988, together with my twin sister. The two of us grew up in a religious environment, but still liberal home. We went to a religious school. During the six years of elementary school, I and my twin sister studied together with boys. Later on, we went to a girls-only school for another six years. Until today, I keep Shabbat and the Jewish dietary laws and celebrate all Jewish holidays; it never was a coercion to me. Since my childhood, I have been a member of a religious youth movement called Bnei Akiva. In 2006, I joined the army, against my father’s will. He was afraid that the military service would turn me into a secular person. My mother, on the other hand, encouraged me to do what I wanted. I was assigned to guide soldiers and foreign visitors on field trips, showing them the country and explaining our history. After completing my duty in the Israel Defense Forces, I started working as a tour guide in civil life, too. I guided religious kids from Europe and the United States who came to Israel for a month. I was always moved by the idea that I was walking around with the Torah, knowing that I was reading a story that happened at the exact spot thousands of years ago. In 2009, I went to the Hebrew University of Jerusalem to study biochemistry and food science at the Faculty of Agriculture in the city of Rehovot. In 2012, I decided to do an internship in Germany, in a small town near Hamburg, called Schwechow, in a distillery for liquor. I loved it. After my return to Israel, I decided to leave further academic studies behind and to go out into the field. I found a job at a winery. But three years later, I was trained as a Brennmeisterin (master distiller) at the University of Hohenheim in the German city of Stuttgart. After returning to Israel, I recently opened my own distillery for

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kosher schnapps. This business is the fulfillment of a dream for me, because I carry on the family tradition that had been interrupted by the Holocaust.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism to me is a situation in which I cannot live my life according to my religious beliefs. I want to dress as I please; I want to eat kosher food; I want to keep Shabbat without being criticized or stared at. During the time of my internship in this small town in Germany, I was the only Jewish person around. When I arrived, I was invited to the local school. The teachers wanted the kids to see a Jewish person and to learn about Judaism and Israel. They had good intentions, but I felt embarrassed, just like a museum exhibit. I was shocked how little knowledge the adults and the students had about these topics. I had one of the harshest experiences at the house of my host. One day, she gave me a few eggs. When two days later I asked her for more, she answered me, “I will gladly give you some more, but you should know that it is very unhealthy to eat more than two eggs a day.” When I answered her that I had not been able to use some of the eggs, because they had blood in them, she did not understand. So I explained to her that Jews who keep the dietary religious laws do not eat food that contains blood. She was completely flabbergasted and said, “But you Jews love blood in your food!” I had to sit down for a second. I was twenty-three years old at that time and not prepared for such a conversation. Nevertheless, I took the pain of explaining to her that Jews are strictly forbidden to use blood for their religious rituals. I tried to make her understand that such a statement was an antisemitic trope. I doubt that she got the point. I was also very shocked when I found out that her husband had been a member of the Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth). This happened while we were tasting Schnapps together and I suddenly saw a picture of him wearing a uniform. I was so upset that I immediately called my father. He suggested that I return home. In this conversation, he told me the story about a business trip to Germany he had once done with his father. They were about to close a deal with a client, but suddenly my grandfather saw a picture of that man in an SS uniform. At that moment, my grandfather stood up and said, “Thank you very much, but we don’t want to have any business with you,” then he walked out. My father recounted this incident, because he did not want me to have a bad conscience if I decided to interrupt my internship. But I decided to stay. It was the right decision, because I proved to my host that a Jewish person might have blue eyes and that we do not use blood for our rituals. Since then, I often

44 | Nothing New in Europe?

ask myself how elderly Germans had behaved during the Second World War. The topic of the Holocaust has preoccupied me for a long time, and I keep asking questions. I had another unpleasant experience when the mayor of the city invited me to visit the building that before the Holocaust had been a synagogue. I am sure that he had good intentions, but he did not consider how painful the view of this site would be for me. All these examples showed me a deep gap between these Germans and me. Although many of these Germans meant well, they had no knowledge about my history, my religion, and my traditions. They also lacked sensitivity toward me. When I traveled to Germany, I realized how strongly the Holocaust and antisemitic motifs are omnipresent there. My parents never talked about the Holocaust with their parents or with their children. In my generation, it is different. We want to know, are not afraid to ask and expect answers. The Shoah became part of my identity. My sister and I wanted to know why my grandfather had nightmares. Our grandparents started to tell their story, simply because we asked them. Today, I meet many Germans in the framework of seminars. I tell them about my family history and explain Jewish religion to them. I keep noticing that the young people—more than others—apologize for the past. I do not think that they have to do that; it is not their job. And it is also not my job to “absolve” them. But many of the Germans I meet do not want to face the Holocaust and avoid the topic. They prefer to focus on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I do not consider this antisemitism, but they do have the obligation to remember their family past. The fact that they do not talk about the Shoah does not imply that National Socialism is not part of their history. In order to look ahead, the Germans have to look back.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Israel is my home. If you cannot walk around in pajamas at home, where can you? Here I feel free. Nobody makes remarks about my religious way of dressing or asks me why I do not drive on Shabbat. For me, this country is a safe haven. I belong to a generation that was already born in the State of Israel. This gives me a sense of security that my grandparents did not have when they were hunted in Europe.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? In a democracy it is legitimate to express your opinion, to criticize and to protest. For me, the question is not if to criticize, but how. However, I think that you should be very careful with criticism if you lack knowledge about the situ-

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ation on the ground. I for my part do not express a clear opinion about things that happen in countries I am not familiar with. It would be stupid of me to pass a judgment without in-depth knowledge—literally stupid. The same goes for people abroad who automatically consider the Palestinians as the weak party of the conflict. They do not understand that the media usually polarize and that the situation on the ground is much more complex. This criticism based on a lack of knowledge hurts Israel. As a result, we cannot protect ourselves properly. And to reiterate, it is not antisemitic to express a negative opinion about Israel, as long as it is based on well-founded knowledge and multiperspectivity. And that is not the case most of the time.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? No matter which decision the Israeli government takes, it will always be criticized in Europe. I find it outrageous that Europeans who constantly focus on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict are much less interested in the war in Syria. And nobody cares that many more people are killed, and the impact of the war is much worse than here. That is just one example of many. From my perspective as an Israeli, the current government is acting the right way.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? I do not think that there is one answer to this question. Antisemites usually hate Jews because they perceive them as particularly successful. These stereotypes are obviously not grounded in reality; not all Jews are successful lawyers or rich doctors. It is like the wrong idea that all Moslems are terrorists. It’s not true. Antisemites might also hate Moslems, but not necessarily the LGBTQ community. It is a complex issue.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? It makes sense to fight antisemitism, because we do not know what will happen tomorrow. We do not know if Israel’s existence is guaranteed forever. Perhaps one day Israeli Jews will be forced to live in the Diaspora. For me, fighting antisemitism implies education. It means people should learn to accept and not only to tolerate minorities with different traditions, way of life, and religion. We are not identical, and this should not be seen as negative. In societies where differences are accepted, everybody’s situation improves. However, I must admit that I do not know how to achieve this goal. The reality on the ground in Europe proves that it is not possible to get antisemitism and other forms of racism out of people’s minds.

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Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? I do not know what Israel’s contribution to the fight against antisemitism in Europe is. But it is clear to me that it needs to act. I think it is in the interest of both sides. Countering antisemitism must go hand in hand with the remembrance of the Holocaust. The two issues cannot be separated. This is the right way to approach Jewish history and current developments in Europe. Israel can make a great contribution, because we have much educational experience.

chapter

4 Dafna Berger

In Berlin I feel more Jewish and Israeli than I do at home. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1978 Tel Aviv, Israel Ra’anana, Israel Berlin, Germany Office Manager

The Story of My Family My maternal grandmother was born in Vilnius, Lithuania, around 1915. In the early 1930s, she emigrated to what was then the British Mandate of Palestine. She had a rebellious character and wanted to escape the conflicts with her religious family by emigrating. This decision would later save her life. In her new home, she was one of the founding members of a kibbutz on the Sea of Galilee. My mother’s father was born in Me’a She’arim, the Orthodox Quarter of Jerusalem, around 1910. His strictly religious family came from Russia originally, but had lived in Jerusalem for several generations. My mother’s parents met in the late 1930s. My grandfather increasingly distanced himself from religion, although he remained faithful to some traditions throughout his life. He almost completely lost contact with the ultra-Orthodox family in Me’a She’arim. My mother was born in 1953, the youngest of four children. She has no connection to religion at all. She worked for years as an accountant. My father’s father comes from a religious Polish family. He was born during the First World War. He survived the Shoah. Last year, we learned from the documents of the Marburg State Archive that he had first been in three concentration camps in Poland. Afterwards,

48 | Nothing New in Europe?

he was deported to Dresden, where he had to do forced labor for the German national railway system (Deutsche Reichsbahn) and the last station was the Theresienstadt ghetto. His profession as an electrician probably saved his life in the concentration camps. After the founding of the state, he immigrated to Israel and went straight to fight in the War of Independence. He then settled in Herzlia and continued to work as an electrician. He died in the 1960s, so I never got to know him personally. My paternal grandmother was born as the daughter of a traditional Jewish family in Poland in 1910. She survived almost the entire war as a partisan in the forest, where she had hidden with her mother. After the war, the two women emigrated to Israel. She met her future husband—my grandfather—on the way to a refugee camp. They continued together to Israel, joined by my grandfather’s brother. At that time, they had passed the age of forty already, but they still [subsequently] had two sons. The Shoah had cast dark shadows over family life. My father kept remembering the sad atmosphere at home. The grief of his parents was so strong that they never celebrated their son’s birthday. My father was born in 1949. He is an engineer. He had a religious upbringing until he joined the army at the age of eighteen. To this day, he fasts on Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, and he also observes the religious commandments of the Passover festival. However, it bothers him that religion in Israel is so strongly involved with politics today and also takes on radical manifestations. My parents met through their mutual circle of friends. Our home is secular. I received my Jewish education mainly from school and family. At home we talked a lot about the history of Judaism and the importance of festivals. When I was a child, I also went with my father to the synagogue. We lived in Ra’anana, a small town near Tel Aviv.

My Own Story I was born in 1978 in Ramat Gan, a city near Tel Aviv. Six years later we moved to Ra’anana where I went to school. I had a happy childhood there. When I was in fourth grade, we moved to Nigeria from 1987 to 1989 because of my father’s work. During that time, I went to the American school and learned English. At this international school there were many Arab children, but also many Asian and African kids. These two years in Africa had a great impact on me. I became aware of the importance of language skills. Furthermore, through my fellow students I

Dafna Berger | 49

learned that there are so many different stories and narratives. This experience opened my mind. After our return to Israel, I became very friendly with a classmate. Her mother was a Holocaust survivor from Germany who told me a lot about her childhood. In her stories there was also a lot of love for Germany. In addition, I read many children’s books about the Holocaust when I was in sixth grade. All these experiences triggered my interest in the German language. I found a language course that I attended together with three pensioners. Our city also had a long-standing tradition of youth exchange with German cities, and I became involved in it. So, it happened that I visited Germany every summer, starting in eighth grade, and we also regularly had guests from Germany. From 1996 to 1997, I did my military service; I was a clerk. Afterwards I went on a trip to South America with my boyfriend. After our return a year later, I began studying international relations and Middle East studies at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. I also learned Arabic. At the same time, I continued to be involved in youth exchange with Germany; it was always very exciting to prepare for the trips. In 2004, I started a master’s degree in political science in Tel Aviv. But when I received a job offer from an Israeli company in Berlin, I interrupted my studies. The job was about business consulting for German-Israeli projects, a field I am still working in. I advise Israeli commercial companies that are looking for a foothold in Germany. When I came to Berlin, there were maybe three thousand Israelis living here. Today, that number is estimated at about fifteen thousand. With two other Israelis I came up with the idea of founding a Hebrew-speaking hangout in the city. In 2007, we started a so-called Stammtisch, a regulars’ table, for young Israelis. For three to four years, many people joined us—mostly Israelis, but also Germans who knew Hebrew or wanted to meet an Israeli partner. I noticed that many Germans take a great interest in Israel, but that this curiosity is combined with reservations. This observation gave me the idea to launch a privately funded cultural initiative in 2011. It was a platform for modern Hebrew culture. We organized readings, film screenings, and Israeli parties. At events in a synagogue or in a Jewish cultural center, I was often asked, “May I go in there if I am not Jewish?” and “How should I dress?” The police protection of Jewish events strengthens this feeling of discomfort. I have a German partner, who is from Dresden originally. He loves Israel and is critical of Germany. His family, however, sympathizes with Pegida (the Patriotic Europeans against the Islamization of the Occident, an anti-Islam, xenophobic, far-right political movement.) He would be prepared to move to Israel already tomorrow. However, as a tourist you do not see the difficulties of everyday life.

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Whether I will stay in Berlin or not, I do not know yet. At the moment I live here, and it is comfortable. I like my job and my circle of friends. One of my sisters has also been living here for eight years. At the moment I enjoy living in my “bubble” in Germany, but I feel more Jewish and Israeli here than I do at home.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? For me, antisemitism consists of prejudices against Jews. These stereotypes result in bad treatment and humiliation of Jews because of their origin. On the one hand, antisemitism is on the rise in comparison to recent years. On the other hand, the problem is much more dealt with in the public discourse than in the past. I experience “old antisemitism”—for instance, with the family of my partner from the former GDR (German Democratic Republic). I call it “frustrationrooted antisemitism.” This is racism against everything that is not German. It is expressed by people who believe that everything is being taken away from them by foreigners. Although I am now generalizing, I believe that this is more common in those parts of Germany that have belonged to the GDR. The antisemitism of Germans who grew up in the German Federal Republic comes in an “intellectual” disguise, but in fact it has the same religious and cultural roots. The hatred of Israel is a relatively new manifestation in Germany and other European countries. It exists in the broader society but is increasingly found among Muslims. I have also encountered “subtle” antisemitism. These were situations in which prejudices against Jews could be read “between the lines.” In most cases, it was about money. Many Germans take antisemitic tropes, such as “all Jews are rich,” for granted. I was surprised when a German colleague called me and said, “I am planning a trip to San Francisco in September and the prices are really high. Is it possible that this is because so many Jewish Americans are flying to San Francisco for the holidays?” He really thought that the rich Jews were flooding San Francisco and driving up airfares. I replied to him, “Maybe there will be a big trade fair. Have you checked that?” His answer was, “No, I hadn’t thought of that.” In fact, a huge cyber fair was taking place in the city at that time. Although I have never been physically attacked so far, I am afraid to read Hebrew books in the subway. At the same time, I have met people from European countries who take a real interest in Judaism and Israel. Most of them were people who have visited Israel or worked with Israelis. Some are also involved in German-Israeli ex-

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change projects. Therefore, I have also had many positive experiences. I was particularly impressed by a colleague who decided to learn Hebrew because of his cooperation with Israeli companies. So, there are two sides to the coin. By no means are all people in Europe antisemitic. I avoid generalizations and relate to each situation in its specific context. The origin of negative statements about Jews may as well be simple stupidity and ignorance. Today, I try to understand where negative stereotypes about Jews originate, at least among people who are close to me.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? I have a dilemma with regard to this question. On the one hand, Israel gives me a feeling of security. I know that I can return any time, and it is my home. On a practical level, however, I am aware that—in a case of emergency—Israel cannot save its citizens living abroad. This is the case when Israelis are attacked physically, which has happened several times already. Moreover, the Israeli embassy does not always know how to deal with the large Israeli community in Berlin. And why? It is part of the state’s Zionist ideology not to support its citizens in leaving the country—especially not in moving to Germany, the land of the perpetrators. There are many reports in Israeli media about Israelis in Berlin, often with a negative connotation, I suppose because most of them are highly critical of Israeli politics. However, I notice that many become more moderate in their view of Israel because of experiences in Germany. My observation is as follows: “You want to become a successful Israeli artist in Europe? Then criticize Israel in your work or initiate Israeli-Palestinian projects.” But with time, even these left-wing Israelis understand that, at the end of the day, they are also perceived as Jews.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? This always depends on the context, and that applies not only to antisemitism, but also to criticism of Israel. Very often I hear negative opinions about my country of origin in Berlin. For me, the question is, “Who makes these statements? Does this person have knowledge and understanding of the situation?” In discussions with journalists and youth groups, I always ask, “Have you ever been to Israel or the Middle East?” If the answer is “No,” then I do not see any basis for discussion. I can only engage in a serious exchange if someone has lived in Israel, is professionally involved with the country, or understands Hebrew and Arabic. But, unfortunately, it is not unusual that journalists who are not familiar with Israel express clear opinions. It does not bother them that they have never been in the country and have no idea what is really going on there.

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By this I refer to journalists whose opinion on Israel is negative from the outset and who tailor their articles to their prejudices. I consider it antisemitic if someone forms a negative judgment about Israel without any indepth knowledge.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? The roots of German antisemitism are very old. Today, Israel is associated with Jews, which means that many factors come together. Of course, I understand when people react with criticism to the suffering of the Palestinian civilian population. I criticize Israel myself, and one cannot expect others to automatically support Israel’s government policy. Today, the world is much more complex, and people are much better informed than in the past. In addition, Arab Israelis live in Berlin, too, and report on their discrimination. All these factors should be taken into account. But many times, the pictures from the Gaza Strip show only the Israeli bombing. These photographs are taken out of context, and barely mention the warfare of Hamas. In my eyes, Israel currently has a bad reputation in the world, including Germany. As I mentioned before, this is also due to foreign reporting. Furthermore, one must ask the question, “What is going on in the head of Europeans?” My answer is, “Europeans are willing to compromise to the point of naivety.” Germans and also other Europeans think this way because they do not understand the situation in Israel. As a result, they cannot comprehend the actions of the Israeli leadership. This is how I feel. They are more naive than we are, because they have a different life experience. If you want to speak the language of the Europeans, you have to show your willingness to compromise. The Israeli government does not do that. Therefore, a large majority of Europeans feel that Israel’s policies are wrong. As an Israeli, I am against the Occupation. At the same time, I believe that it is necessary to see the very real dangers that Israel faces.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Of course, there is a correlation between antisemitism and group-focused enmity. All these phenomena can easily lead to violence. For me, sexual harassment also belongs to this category. Problematic and “suspicious” phrases should always be seen in their context, and I suggest asking the following questions: “Who makes this statement? Why and with what intention? Who is the target audience?” The answers can

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help to deconstruct stereotypes and prejudices about the “Other,” not only in the context of antisemitism.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? Of course, it makes sense to fight antisemitism. For me, the most effective way to break down prejudices are encounters. They enable people to see the individual behind the stereotype. This is what I believe in and what I stand up for. I am interested in showing the human face, simply explaining Judaism and Israel. To reiterate, I would say, “We meet, even though we have different opinions and experiences. We talk about it, and together we turn our differences into something beautiful.” I know this from my own life: Eight years ago, I wanted to learn Arabic and in exchange teach the other person Hebrew. An Israeli friend of mine brought me in touch with an Egyptian woman who wanted to study Hebrew. When we first met, I did not know what to say. I had reservations and thought that she might be from the secret service. Today, she is one of my best friends here. But in the beginning I was afraid. I didn’t even dare to invite her to my place. Had she been German, that would have been no problem at all. There is a very interesting and meaningful project in which I also participated: “Rent a Jew,” an initiative that offers schools, adult education centers, universities, or church congregations the opportunity to meet Jewish persons of different ages and backgrounds. I have participated in several meetings and told my story. Sometimes it was about Israel and sometimes about Judaism. The audience asked many questions, but some were not able to overcome their shyness. In any case, I realized that a large part of the ignorance stems from the lack of opportunity to meet Jewish people.

Should Israel be Involved in the Fight Against Antisemitism in Europe? In my opinion, the establishment of an Israeli cultural institute would be a constructive way to show Israel’s positive and creative sides. But beyond that, Israel should be cautious. I find it problematic when Israeli politicians immediately take the floor as soon as there is an antisemitic incident in Europe. The Israeli government strongly criticizes the fact that Israeli human rights organizations such as Breaking the Silence or the New Israel Fund are funded with European money. In my view, this approach casts doubt on the claim to be involved in Germany. Moreover, it is not very credible if Israel denounces antisemitism in

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Germany and at the same time does not sufficiently fight racism in its own society. If we want to be open and criticize the way Germany treats Jewish people, we must also be open to foreign criticism with regard to the discrimination of the Arab minority.

chapter

5 Guy Band

Why now? Why here? Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1977 Givatayim, Israel Givatayim, Israel Jerusalem, Israel, and Berlin, Germany Executive Director of the Israel Program of Aktion Sühnezeichen Friedensdienste e.V. (Action Reconciliation Service for Peace)

The Story of My Family My mother’s parents came from Yemen. They immigrated to Palestine in 1929 and settled in Givatayim, a city near Tel Aviv. They were not Zionist in a political sense, but immigrated for religious reasons. My mother was born in 1944. My paternal grandmother was born in Warsaw. She immigrated to Palestine as a young woman in 1930. My grandfather immigrated in 1921; he was a convinced Zionist. Both families settled here, and, at some point, my grandparents met. My father was born in Tel Aviv in 1943. The two families lived in close proximity to each other. In those days, the children played together in the streets—that’s how my parents met. They have been a couple since the age of sixteen and got married in the mid-1960s. My father worked as an electrician for a state-owned bus company, and my mother was a bank employee. My brother was born in 1968. On my father’s side, my grandparents were traditional. They observed the Jewish dietary laws at home, and my grandfather went to synagogue regularly. But I do not think they would have considered themselves religious. My

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mother’s family was religious and followed the commandments of Judaism. Although my grandfather was a rabbi, he did not try to impose his beliefs on me. Our home was not religious at all. Actually, my mother would have liked to run a kosher household, but she soon realized that this would not work with my father. Her love for him prevailed, and she gave up on the idea. Nevertheless, tradition did play a role in our family. For example, we always said the Shabbat Kiddush at my grandparents’ house. This blessing, which literally means “sanctification,” is recited over wine. I never felt estranged from Jewish religion. On the contrary, I grew up with a great love for Jewish religion and culture. I never experienced it as threat or compulsion. When I visited my grandparents, it did not bother me at all to keep the religious commandments for their sake.

My Own Story I was born in Givatayim in 1977 and went to school there. From 1996 to 1999, I did the compulsory military service—I was assigned to develop educational programs. After my release, I worked as a sound and light technician for various theaters. At the same time, I was a tour guide for educational trips for Israeli schools. I did this as a hobby, because I was very interested in history and geography. That is the reason I studied history and archaeology. At the same time, I volunteered for the Israeli Gay Youth Organization, where I accompanied the first exchange program with the German organization Lambda (https://www. lambda-online.de/). On that occasion, I met one of the German activists, who would become my partner. We have been a couple since then. In the beginning, we had a long-distance relationship. Then, he spent a year in Israel as a volunteer, and in 2006 I did the same in Germany for a year with the Action Reconciliation Service for Peace (Aktion Sühnezeichen Friedensdienste). I worked as a volunteer in the House of the Wannsee Conference (https:// www.ghwk.de/en/). It is a Holocaust memorial and an educational institution. There I did guided tours and facilitated seminars. I also developed educational programs that focused on religion and multicultural societies in general. I deliberately did not limit myself to Israeli-German relations. The ChristianMuslim-Jewish dialogue was another focus of my educational projects. One day, I saw a job advertisement for Action Reconciliation Service for Peace. The organization was looking for a representative in Israel. I applied and got the job, which I considered to be a meaningful challenge. I returned to Israel in 2017, and since then I have been in charge of the volunteers and also of the educational programs in Israel. For the last year, I have been commuting between Israel and Berlin.

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Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? I define antisemitism as resentment against Jews or negative thoughts toward them for the mere fact that they are Jews. It is antisemitic to adopt a negative frame of mind toward Jews as a collective and not to relate to individual Jews at all. This attitude does not allow for any differentiation. I have experienced several situations in which I was confronted with antisemitic statements. In the House of the Wannsee Conference, which deals with the horrors of the Shoah, I sometimes heard sentences such as “Yes, right, but what the Jews are doing to the Palestinians today is just the same.” This kind of comment draws an unacceptable comparison between the occupation of Palestinian territories by Israel and the Holocaust. Such a phrase is obviously not based on serious analysis, but rather on the desire to demonize Israel and thereby delegitimize it. This is secondary antisemitism, which belittles the crimes committed by Germans during the Second World War against Jews and other minorities, such as Sinti and Roma and homosexuals. Once, a student of Muslim origin told me, “Yes, it is good what Hitler did with the Jews at that time!” But then again, I always try to understand the underlying motive for such hate speech. Because it is easy to dismiss it by thinking, “This idiot is an antisemite.” Especially with young people, I try to understand: Why now? Why here? In August 2018, I had a very enlightening experience in Berlin. An ArabPalestinian youth organization had invited me to facilitate a seminar on antisemitism for their staff. I was surprised how little knowledge the participants had about the history of antisemitism and its various components. I spoke about the historical roots of the hatred of Jews and the mechanism of stereotyping. They listened to me attentively and dealt with my arguments. Then we got around to talk about Israel. They argued that in Germany criticism of Israel is automatically equated with antisemitism. I explained to them that it was perfectly legitimate to criticize the country’s policies and the Occupation. I tried to make them understand that criticism becomes antisemitic when it uses demonization and delegitimization of Israel. The constructive atmosphere and rational discussion enabled these young Palestinians to gain new insights. The deconstruction of their prejudices also calmed their anger toward Germany. This experience shows me that hateful slogans can be a call for attention. When I identify such a mechanism in young people’s minds, I start a conversation and deconstruct their tropes. I show them the differences between the Middle East conflict and the Holocaust, without brushing aside justified criticism. Then they become willing to see a more differentiated pic-

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ture. Basically, they are afraid of not being heard in German society, so they use provocations. They draw on antisemitic mechanisms to achieve their own goals. These young people are not always antisemites; they might believe that attacks on Israel and the Jewish people get them attention. My own view on antisemitism has changed over the years. I have dealt with the topic intensively and learned a lot of new things. As a result, my perception has become more differentiated and complex. Not every form of criticism is antisemitism. Stereotyping is something I not only encounter in Germany, but also in Israel. In conversations that I have here, people ask me immediately, “You live in Germany. Aren’t you afraid on the streets?” My answer to them is, “No, guys, you are living with images that do not reflect the reality in Germany.” My everyday life in Berlin feels normal.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Israel is definitely a haven for me. By saying this, I mean that it will always protect me from persecution. I can always come back here. That is important today. If there is an escalation in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the safety of Jews is at risk everywhere. If something happens or someone incites [violence] against Jews, then Israel can react.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? The 3D test is helpful for checking whether criticism of Israel is legitimate or not: if the criticism is characterized by double standards, demonization, and delegitimization of the State of Israel, then it is antisemitic. However, criticism of Israeli politics is not only legitimate, but also welcome for me as an Israeli. I accept honest criticism from good friends—and only from good friends. They can and should express their concern if they feel that Israel is heading in the wrong direction. Then we can talk and also argue.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? There is an increase in demonstrations when the Middle East conflict escalates. As long as there is no verbal or physical violence, this is legitimate and not automatically antisemitic. But it is necessary to condemn attacks on Israelis or people who demonstrate for Israel. If someone who is clearly recognizable as a Jew (e.g., because he or she exits a synagogue) is attacked for exactly this reason, then this is undoubtedly antisemitism. It is wrong to automatically identify Jews with Israel. They are German citizens; they have no right to make decisions for Israel, and they certainly are not representatives of the State of Israel.

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On the other hand, I see a danger coming from Israeli right-wing populists. They define every incident as antisemitic, and thus they prevent any form of self-criticism. To me, this attitude is a threat to Israel’s existence. I believe that open debates are an important part of a healthy society and democracy.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? People who exclude minorities do not focus on one group. An antisemitic person is most likely to reject refugees and LGBTQ people as well. There might be exceptions, but from my experience, that is the way exclusion mechanisms work.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? It is important to fight antisemitism. Educational and encounter programs are important tools to counteract ignorance and prejudices. They are also effective in dealing with (negative) fascination with Judaism and Israel. Getting to know each other creates understanding and interest. It does not help much if teachers dismiss their students’ stereotypes by telling them “You can’t say that, it’s not legitimate!” Does that really change the opinion of young people? Do the educators understand where the hate speech comes from? Teachers often lack the tools to handle such challenging situations; they lack knowledge to engage in constructive discussions with their students. There is a problem with teachers’ training: who joins courses dealing with antisemitism? Teachers of civic education, ethics education, history. But the situations I described above are not limited to these subjects. It can also happen to the math teacher. The same applies to the working environment. Therefore, it is necessary to extend continuing education to a much broader part of society.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? Israel can clearly be involved in the fight against antisemitism. But the question is how much, to what extent, and how. The way it is done today is of little use. I am afraid that the Israelis in charge of dealing with antisemitism are not familiar with the situation on the ground. I sometimes feel embarrassed when I see PowerPoint presentations from ministries that focus on Israeli achievements. As enthusiastic as I might be about any Israeli success story, I do not believe that they counter antisemitism. Nor do I think it is a good strategy to

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use these arguments against the campaigns of BDS (Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions). It would be better to point out to the German public that BDS clearly has antisemitic tendencies and that some of its activists act from antisemitic motives. Furthermore, it should be pointed out that boycotts have a counterproductive effect on Israelis with regard to the conflict with the Palestinians. It hardens their positions. Boycotts stir up fear of antisemitism and they create resistance.

chapter

6 Sonja K.

Antisemitism is the problem of European societies and not the problem of the Jews. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1976 Moscow, Russia Moscow, Russia 2007 Jerusalem, Israel Tour operator at a travel agency

The Story of My Family My parents divorced before I was born, so I do not know many details about the family of my father’s family. Both my parents are from Jewish families in Moscow. My maternal grandfather was born in Ukraine in 1916. He grew up in Nikolayev, a small Jewish town. His mother tongues were Yiddish and Ukrainian. At the age of fourteen, he moved to Moscow. There, he learned Russian and began his academic studies. My grandparents belonged to the first generation of Jews who were allowed to study. Later on, my grandfather held a high position in the ministry that was in charge of the publishing sector. He was the only Jew in the entire ministry. My maternal grandmother comes from a very small village called Lahi on the Belarusian-Ukrainian border. She was born in 1924 but grew up in Moscow from the age of two. She visited her grandparents who had stayed in Lahi only for the summer holidays. She was familiar with Jewish religion because some of her family members were rabbis.

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My grandfather fought against Nazi Germany in the Red Army. My grandmother’s village was destroyed by the National Socialists in June 1941 after the invasion of the Soviet Union. The village’s Jews were killed on the spot. The only reason my grandmother survived was because she was out of town. She had gone to Moscow to celebrate her graduation party. That was in the summer of 1941. When German troops approached Moscow, she was evacuated to the Ural region. There, she lived in a cellar jammed together with fourteen other Jews. I grew up with these and other horrible stories. I was brought up in a Jewish home, although it was not clearly defined what that meant. In the Soviet Union, atheism was government policy, and since my grandfather was a staunch Communist after the war, he rejected any form of belief. Without the religious dimension, my family—like most Jewish people in the Soviet Union—considered being Jewish as belonging to a certain community. In everyday life my grandparents spoke Russian, but when they wanted to keep secrets from us, they suddenly communicated in Yiddish. They told Jewish jokes and had Jewish friends. My grandmother often said, “I am very grateful that Stalin died, because otherwise we all would not be here!” This was a reference to Stalin’s plans to deport the Jews to Siberia in 1953. My mother was born in Moscow in 1954. Later on, she studied biochemistry, graduated with a doctoral thesis, and started teaching at university. When I was eight years old, my mother remarried. My stepfather was born in Moscow in 1953 to a Jewish family. He took on the role of a father for me. On the one hand, my parents behaved like conformist Soviet citizens; on the other hand, they had many Jewish friends. Jewish tradition was practically not present in our lives. Nevertheless, we ate the Matzah bread for the Passover feast (Pesach) that the synagogue in Moscow sent to Jewish families. Neither my grandparents nor my parents had any illusions: they all realized that their Jewish origins would always be an issue in the Soviet Union, no matter how they much they tried to adjust to the Communist regime. Since my stepfather worked as a dancer in a Jewish theater, we had a stronger connection to Jewish culture than other families. The repertoire of the theater included Jewish classics such as the musical Tevye the Milkman, as well as folklore dances or modern drama with Jewish topics. The ensemble members were mostly Jews; they all learned Yiddish for their performances. From the mid-1980s, Mikhail Gorbachev initiated the perestroika in order to reform Soviet economy and politics. This change resulted in chaos. Many people, including my parents, could no longer work in their profession. My mother started trading in goods such as jewelry and sugar. When the theater closed in the early 1990s, my father was unemployed for a long time and eventually ended up as a vendor at a kiosk.

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Although we were not oppressed in the Soviet Union, my parents lived with their suitcases packed. And even if it took some time, eventually our family left Russia. In 2001, my parents moved to Canada together with my brother; they still live there today. My grandparents stayed in Moscow. Meanwhile, they have passed away.

My Own Story I was born in Moscow in 1976 and lived there until the age of seventeen. Even today, Russian language and culture are a part of me. At high school, I attended German lessons without realizing that they would be the key to my future. At that time, an agreement was concluded between the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia and Russia that each year three to five students could study in Bonn. I belonged to the first group that went to Germany in 1993. I lived in Bonn for seven years. The first six months, I went to a preparatory college. This institution prepared students for studies at German universities. I started studying art history and comparative religious studies. At that time, I also developed a deeper interest in Judaism. I am not a believing person; my interest in religion is rather scientifically based. Nevertheless, back then, for the first time it became clear to me: “These are my roots.” Then I visited my parents in Toronto and stayed there for eight months. Then I moved to Berlin, a city I really liked. In 2001, I started working as a guide in the Jewish Museum, which had just opened. This work made me delve even deeper into issues of Jewish identity. During this time, I also met my future husband. Through him, my connection with Judaism became even stronger. I started going to the synagogue on Yom Kippur and celebrating the Passover holidays. All that was new to me, and the topic fascinated me more and more. So when we got married in Berlin in 2003, it was clear that it was going to be a Jewish religious wedding under a canopy (chuppah). My children were born in 2004 and 2006. It was natural to us to have our son circumcised according to Jewish tradition. Today, I would be more skeptical about these rituals and would ask myself if I really want them at all. Because my husband wanted to move to Israel, we came to live there in 2007. I agreed because I wanted our children to grow up as Jews without that being an issue. Back then, I knew very little about the country. For me, Israel had beautiful beaches and exploding buses. But the moment I arrived, I felt at home in Israel.

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It immediately created a sense of belonging in me. And I had never known this feeling before. I studied Hebrew in Tel Aviv, got my driver’s license, and took care of the children. It was an exciting time. I eagerly took in everything that was new to me: the Israeli mentality, the noise, the heat, the communication between people, the politics. My professional path in Israel has been connected with the German language from the very beginning. I started out as an editor of a German-language newspaper. Then I worked in a law firm that dealt with the payment of German pensions to Holocaust survivors. Five years ago, we moved to Jerusalem. Since then, I have been working in tourism, in logistics, which means organizing trips for German groups to Israel, Palestine, and Jordan. Jerusalem is a very interesting city. It is often reduced to the “tense situation” and the dominance of religious people. This is the view from the outside, but actually the city has much more to offer. I am glad that by living in Jerusalem, I get to know Israel in all its complexity.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? It is very simple: antisemitism is hatred against Jews. And it is important to understand that antisemitism is the problem of European societies and not of the Jews. The Jews are its victims. Yesterday, I told my twelve-year-old son that I was giving an interview on the subject of antisemitism. He asked me, “What is that?” I replied, “That is when people hate all Jews.” He replied, “But you like the Jews.” I tried to explain to him that I do not automatically like all Jews, just because they are Jewish. It was interesting that my son did not know what antisemitism is all about. Basically, I have no desire to deal with antisemitism on a daily basis. I know who I am. Unfortunately, we are often defined by others, and we cannot escape this fact, because no matter how we perceive ourselves, the outside world often projects its prejudices onto Jews. In Russia, I have experienced everyday antisemitism. I remember an example from my childhood. My parents were better off financially than the families of most of my classmates. This led to envy. People said behind our back, “Ah, these Jews have money.” Sometimes they threw their insults directly in our faces. For some reason, I did not take it to my heart. What really hurt me, though, was the accusation of a classmate’s parents that I visited them so often in order to get a free meal. I was nine years old at the time. After this incident, I did not visit them anymore. My parents were convinced that these people

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were antisemitic. At least their viciousness did not affect my friendship with their son. In Germany, I only once encountered violent antisemitism. That was at the dormitory. An Egyptian student who did not know I was Jewish stood up one day and gave a long harangue against Israel and Jews. He shouted that Jews controlled everybody, were responsible for poverty in Egypt, and despised Islam. He soon invoked old tropes about the greediness of Jews and their obsession with power. The student expressed regret that Hitler had not killed all the Jews. The logical conclusion of this hate speech was that Israel must be eradicated. I was very uncomfortable with that. Through my work at the Jewish Museum, I have learned that many people think in a stereotypical way about Jews. Many visitors told me, “But you are all rich.” In my mind, it is also absurd when Diaspora Jews are collectively blamed for Israeli politics. It is absurd when people who may never have been in Israel are seen as representatives of the Israeli government. These are examples of antisemitic experiences I have had in Germany. As a matter of fact, I was more often confronted with the fear of the “Other.” By that I mean an anxiety that Germans tend to have toward anyone or anything foreign. This relates not only to Jews, but to all strangers. It is hard to explain: As long as I lived among students, some of whom were foreigners, I did not feel it so much. But later, I realized that it is very difficult to belong to German society with a foreign accent and a Russian name. A German passport does not necessarily go hand in hand with acceptance. For example, when I worked at the Jewish Museum, people often asked me if I was on a foreign scholarship because they heard my Russian accent. And they also wanted to know how long I intended to stay in Germany. Nobody would ask me this question in Israel or Canada, simply because they are immigration societies. In Germany, I had the feeling that I was always regarded as a guest and not as part of the community. That is the reason why I never felt part of German society. When I was young, I was less interested in the topic of antisemitism, because I felt less Jewish then than I do today. In addition, I now live in Israel. If Jews are not an issue, then Israel is. Without any doubt, the subject is more present in my life than it was in the past.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Israel provides me with a sense security. First of all, Israel is a state governed by the rule of law, which I trust a lot more than, for example, the Russian state. There are independent courts, a free press, and division of power. As a Jew, I can trust the security forces here. Of course, I do not speak for the Arab and

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other minorities. They probably see things very differently, and I fully understand that. Diaspora Jews know that they can immigrate to Israel as a last resort. Until the establishment of the State of Israel, many Jews tried to achieve equality and security by assimilation. They had no other home. Today, the situation is different. Personally, I could live somewhere else. Had I not met my husband, I probably would not be here now. However, in no way can I imagine what the Jewish Diaspora would look like today if Israel did not exist. So I am glad it does.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? I do not support the Occupation, nor do I approve of many other developments in Israel today. There certainly are many Germans who are influenced by their deep-rooted antisemitism. It annoys me when Europeans criticize Israel without knowing the situation on the ground. Whenever I find criticism unjustified, I fight back. It happens, for instance, with the tourists I meet through my work. Quite a lot of them have a preconceived black and white picture. Time and again I am confronted with the almost childish question, “Why can’t Israelis and Palestinians just get along with each other? Just make peace.” Sure, I am all for it. However, if you ask them for their solutions, they have no answers. On the other hand, there are many Germans whose criticism of the Israeli government I fully accept and share. I disagree when Israeli politicians and also members of the Jewish communities in Germany automatically denounce well-justified criticism as antisemitic. If criticism is formulated in a constructive way, it should not be brushed aside. To reiterate: the dividing line between legitimate and antisemitic criticism can be very blurred. It is therefore important to understand the underlying motives of criticism from abroad. I take it seriously on condition that it is wellfounded and based on multiple perspectives. But ultimately, it is much more important that Israelis and Palestinians get back to a more peaceful path than what Europeans think.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? In my opinion, Israeli politics todays is wrong, and it hurts the country. There is no doubt in my mind that it contributes to Israel’s loss of popularity abroad because it is being perceived as uncompromising. There are frequent reports in foreign media about Prime Minister Netanyahu’s corruption scandals; they certainly reinforce the stereotype about the “greedy Jews,” even if it is complete

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nonsense. Yet, antisemitism will always exist, regardless of Israel’s behavior. In that sense, my answer is: yes and no.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Antisemitism is a form of xenophobia. But I do not believe that anyone who is antisemitic automatically hates other minorities as well. On the other hand, in Germany’s extreme right-wing and populist party Alternative for Germany (Alternative für Deutschland, AfD), there are Islamophobic politicians. They make Muslims responsible for all their problems. At the same time, they love Israel, which is weird. It should be pointed out that racism is a universal phenomenon. Israeli society has its own share of it.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? Antisemitism is still a problem in Germany. Just recently, Jewish children at several schools in Berlin have been attacked. I have the impression that the official bodies have done little subsequently, and have tried to sweep it under the carpet. The only source of support for these families came from the Jewish community. I know Jews who are afraid to wear a Star of David or a kippah in certain areas of Berlin today. When I lived in Berlin, the term “Jew” was used as an insult in many schools; this is a worrying sign. Having said that, I am fully aware that today I am an outside observer. There are many Israelis and Jews in Berlin whose children have no antisemitic experiences at school. It is possible that the media coverage might have been blown out of proportion in some of the cases. When I worked at the Jewish Museum, I tried to counter antisemitic prejudices with logical arguments and historical examples. It does not work! Unfortunately, I do not have any recipe for how to address this problem. But what I can say from experience: people who do not know any Jew personally have the most prejudices. That is why personal encounters are of crucial significance. I am happy that I make a contribution to enhance tourism to Israel. When people visit Israel, they understand that some things are different from what they had imagined. I hope that this may bring about a change in their way of thinking or at least makes them reflect about their own judgments. Since I am fluent in German and Russian, the Ministry of Immigration asked me to defend Israeli positions in internet forums and thus enhance the image of the country. I rejected this offer. Although I realize that many wars are being waged in the social media, it just would not feel right to engage in it, no matter for whom. Maybe this reaction is rooted in my Soviet past. I want to live my life as an individual and not to define myself exclusively through my

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Jewish Israeli identity. It is certainly part of who I am, but I also want to focus on other nonrelated issues.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? As far as official organizations are concerned, I believe that the Jewish communities in Germany, as well as the Israeli government, exaggerate the problem. Of course, antisemitism must be condemned. It is also necessary to act against it. But that should not be Israel’s concern. This fear of “everyone is against us” and the fight against antisemitism are high on the agenda of the Jewish communities in Germany. I think they should be more future-oriented and be involved in global issues, such as populism, migration, social justice, and gender and environmental issues. It is Germany’s and not Israel’s duty to fight antisemitism in Germany. I do not know whether enough is being done or not. A commissioner for the fight against antisemitism has just been appointed by the Federal Government. As important as this decision might be, I wonder how much one person can achieve. It is as important to provide teachers with educational tools, to help them handle critical situations. In doing so, it is essential to take cultural differences into account. For instance, in many Muslim families in Germany, teachers are not regarded as an authority, especially not if they are women. The father or younger male family members are considered to be the source of authority. Those are different values from the German mainstream. This is not only relevant for antisemitism, but also for the status of women in the family. What I am trying to say is that the problem has additional dimensions. The key words are integration and acceptance from both sides. Once they feel respected by society, they will respond in a positive way. I do not want to downplay the hatred of Jews that exists in the minds of many Germans with non-immigrant background! It certainly exists. I see that all over Europe right-wing forces are becoming stronger again. Racist ideas are becoming socially acceptable again, even in mainstream society. This development worries me, independently of the question of how many AfD voters are actually convinced antisemites. Nevertheless, I think that the majority of German society is trying to learn from the past and reject antisemitism. That is why I consider antisemitism imported from the Arab world as the bigger problem, in the short term at least. Germany has done much more educational work to fight antisemitism than other European countries, such as Austria, Italy, or Hungary. At the same time, I do not feel at ease when German politicians repeatedly emphasize that they are obliged to Israel and the Jews. If Germany only wanted to help Israel on the basis of a collective feeling of guilt, it would at some point reverse into the opposite. Relations between Germany and Israel should be based on a much broader and also future-oriented basis.

chapter

7 Shimrit Sutter-Schreiber

Antisemitism starts with small things. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1972 Afula, Israel Rehovot, Israel Munich, Germany Translator, interpreter, and guide

The Story of My Family My paternal grandmother was born and raised in Silesia around 1900. She emigrated to Belgium in the late 1920s. My grandfather, ten years her senior, came from a very religious family from Bratislava in Czechoslovakia. Like many other Eastern European Jews at that time, he moved to the West and settled in Belgium. My grandparents met in Belgium. They had six children; my father was their youngest son. We did not have much information about my grandfather’s story during the Holocaust, but we tried to reconstruct it. We found a document that stated that he was deported from Belgium to become a forced laborer in Magdeburg, a city in Eastern Germany. In 1942, he was deported to Auschwitz, where he was sent to the gas chambers. My grandmother escaped from the train to Auschwitz and saved all of her children. She placed her eldest son with a foster family and her four daughters in monasteries. We do not know how she survived or where she hid until the end of the war. My father was born in Antwerp in 1941. A Belgian underground organization placed him as a Jewish orphan with a Christian family in Brussels. These people changed his name, treated him like their own son, and adopted him. My father has fond memories of that time. When my grandmother wanted to

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take the boy back home after the end of the war, the family refused to let him go. Therefore, in 1947, my grandmother placed an ad in a newspaper: She accused this renowned lawyer by name of refusing to return a Jewish child to his mother. The man feared for his good reputation and therefore sent the child to a Jewish organization. From there, his biological sister brought him to Antwerp. In 1949, my father emigrated to Israel with the Zionist organization Youth Aliyah, which arranged for the resettlement of Jewish youth in Israel in kibbutzim and youth villages. His mother sent all her children to Israel, one by one. My father first lived on a kibbutz in the south of the country. On my mother’s side, the history of the family is complicated. My mother was born in a hospital next to a labor camp in France in 1943. She does not know who her father is. On her document of birth registration—she has no actual birth certificate—it says “father unknown.” She does not really know her mother, either. Both had survived the war together, but apparently my grandmother suffered a nervous breakdown afterwards and was probably institutionalized. Her then three-year-old daughter was taken to a Jewish orphanage. The children whose relatives could not be located were then sent to Israel, my mother being one of them. She left France in 1951. It was only forty years later that we found out that her mother had lived in a Jewish old age home in Belgium until 1981. She had never gotten in touch with her daughter. My parents both grew up in the youth village Alonei Yitzchak in northern Israel. They fell in love, got married in 1962, and moved to Jerusalem. My father obtained his high school diploma when he was about thirty years old and began studying graphic design, but he did not finish his studies. He then studied mechanical engineering and was employed as a professional soldier in the air force for many years. My mother first trained to become a nurse. Later on, she became an occupational therapist. Our family is very secular. Although my father was originally brought up traditionally by his mother, he abandoned religion after his arrival in Israel.

My Own Story I was born in 1972 as the youngest of three siblings in Afula, a city in the north of Israel. Due to my father’s work in the air force, our family frequently moved from one place to another. When I was five years old, my parents finally settled in Rehovot, near Tel Aviv. As a member of the youth movement HaNoar HaOved VeHaLomed (the Working and Studying Youth), I was sent to Kibbutz Kfar Aza in southern Israel. The plan was to enroll there in an agricultural internship before going

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to the army. But I met a German man and fell in love with him. In 1991, we moved to Munich and got married. After my husband had finished his studies, we moved to Mexico for two years. After our return, we lived near Stuttgart for a few years and then moved to Munich, where I still live today. Our daughters were born in 1997 and 1998. We divorced in 2008. For some years, I raised my daughters on my own. In 2014, I married my second husband. Our daughter was born in 2016. My daughters grow up with a Jewish identity, and I speak Hebrew with them. The older one even did her military service in Israel. We celebrate all the Jewish holidays. Although the connection with tradition is important to me, I am not religious. Neither do I believe in God. Professionally, I am a trained translator and interpreter. Furthermore, I offer guided tours in synagogues and in the Dachau concentration camp memorial site (https://www.kz-gedenkstaette-dachau.de/en/).

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism is racism specifically directed against Jews. It starts with small things and has many faces. Paradoxically, it can deny the Jews their right to national self-determination and at the same time reject Jewish presence in Europe. Antisemitism has a long tradition in Germany in many families and in many social circles. Personally, I do not feel discriminated against as a foreigner. I live among people who accept me as a Jew and as an Israeli. A colleague at the Dachau Memorial once gave me a rather skeptical explanation: “Of course there is antisemitism, but people are being careful when they talk to you.” It is true that during my tours in synagogues and in Dachau, some of the visitors told me: “You Jews like to marry among yourselves.” When I hear this kind of statement, I explain, “Personally, I twice married non-Jewish Germans. From a more general perspective, it is easier for the education of the children if you marry a partner from the same religious or cultural background.” Another topic is kosher slaughtering, which is said to be more painful for the animals than the “normal” one. My answer to this kind of argument: “Personally, I do not eat animals at all and I am a vegan. Slaughtering animals is fundamentally wrong in my mind, no matter how it is done. Next time you eat meat, keep that in mind.” Another frequent point of criticism is the Jewish circumcision. I try to counter these arguments by explaining that there will be no more Jewish life in Germany without these traditions. There are many Jews who define themselves through these religious rituals, and they must be allowed to do so.

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Some people do not want to accept this and reply, “Why do the Jews not want to adapt to the modern world?” I answer, “I do not know any liberal religion. Every faith has its guidelines and laws. Christianity is not different from that perspective.” My reply irritates many people, because the Jewish tradition is so different from their own. These questions, which come up again and again, are rooted in an antisemitic heritage that is an intrinsic part of European culture. The people asking these questions might not be aware of this historical continuity and certainly would not admit to being influenced by it. But this discussion has an antisemitic subtext; it does not accept the laws of Jewish life. In fact, these kinds of questions express the expectations that religious Jewish life should adapt itself to the German mainstream way of life. When I was younger, I was less sensitive to antisemitic remarks than I am today. Nowadays, I listen carefully to the subtext. I am much more sensitive to the issue than I used to be. In my work, I deal with neo-Nazism and racism today, and I suppose these issues sharpened my perception. A particularly clear example is the statement of politician Björn Höcke from the extreme right-wing party AfD (Alternative for Germany), who publicly said that Germany’s politics of memory was paralyzing the country. He referred to the policy of Germany’s process of coming to terms with the history of National Socialism and the Holocaust (Vergangenheitsbewältigung). That man, who has many followers, not only turned his back on Germany’s Nazi past, but also approved of it.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Although I was born and raised in Israel, I have lived in Germany for twenty-seven years. Israel is my home and means a lot to me. But I do not feel that I want to go back. I feel comfortable and stable in Munich. To be honest, I do not necessarily see Israel as a protective shield against antisemitism. Although this is the core of the Zionist idea, I do not think that Jews are safer in Israel than in the Diaspora.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? Many people around me are well informed about Israel and know why they criticize the country. As long as Israel’s right to exist is not questioned and criticism is directed at a specific government or developments, it is not antisemitic. The problem is that many people hide antisemitic thoughts behind their criticism of Israel. This is often the case when a discussion addresses political issues. Then the situation in Israel can be easily mixed up with resentment against the Jewish tradition. Many Diaspora Jews and also Israelis are

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very aware of this mechanism. Then they raise the following questions: “Is this antisemitic or is it honest and constructive criticism?” Where is the dividing line? I see it at the point where people do not have enough knowledge and stop sticking to the facts. When this happens, I often notice that actually they do not want to learn, but justify their own prejudices.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? There is no automatic correlation between antisemitism and Israel’s political decisions. Antisemitism has existed long before Israel, and it is part of the European tradition. Sometimes antisemitism relates to current issues, but this does not change its core. I do not believe that a peace agreement between Israel and the Palestinians would really curb antisemitism in Europe.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Yes, absolutely. During my tours, I always emphasize this: “Antisemitism is one aspect of racism. The National Socialists also persecuted other minorities, for instance Roma, Sinti, and homosexuals.” Their hatred was directed against all those who did not correspond to their Aryan ideal. And since racist rejection can be so destructive, it frightens me that Islamophobia is becoming stronger in Germany these days. It is not only racism against Muslims, but in a second step rejection of other minorities too. Therefore, I defend Islam as a religion. At the same time I am aware that there are Islamists in Germany who are also prepared to use violence against Jews. It is not easy to find the right way for a peaceful coexistence.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? Human beings are born without prejudice and only become racists at a later stage. I believe that it is possible to convince many people to give up on their prejudices. But, unfortunately, this rarely happens. It can only work if the process of deconstructing stereotypes is initiated at a young age. I personally try to fight antisemitism by explaining to the people in my environment what it means to be an Israeli Jew. I sometimes visit kindergartens to explain Jewish holidays, sing Hebrew songs, and thus initiate a conversation. I enjoy this very much. Once, there were two Muslim mothers among the parents, and we engaged in a dialogue. My guided tours in synagogues give the visitors the opportunity to ask questions. I always encourage them by saying, “You can ask any question that

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comes to your mind, or talk about things you have been hearing and do not know whether they are true.” This is also true for my work with young people in Dachau. If at least some of the students start thinking about racism and its consequences, then I have surely achieved a lot.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? Israel should not be involved in the fight against antisemitism in Germany on a political level. Hatred of Jews is a German and European problem that only the respective societies can solve. Israel should stay out of it; in any case, its involvement will be counterproductive. I do very much believe in the importance of exchange programs and economic and cultural cooperation. Projects in these fields can certainly achieve more than empty rhetoric from politicians.

chapter

8 Ofer Moghadam

Why are you Jews so smart? Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1969 Frankfurt am Main, Germany Pforzheim, Germany 2007 Mevasseret Zion, Israel Tour guide

The Story of My Family Both my parents were born in Iran and grew up in Israel. Their parents were members of the Jewish community of Mashhad, a holy city for the Shiites in eastern Iran. What is special about the Jewish community of Mashhad is that its members were forced to convert to Islam in the nineteenth century. In spite of their conversion, they continued to practice Jewish religion secretly, just like the Marranos in Spain. To the outside, however, they were absolutely Muslim, including pilgrimages to Mecca, but actually they were practicing Jews. In contrast to the generations before them, my grandparents could live as practicing Jews. The community was very traditional and kept the Shabbat. My paternal grandfather was a cantor. Over time, the members of this community moved from Mashhad to Tehran, and from there a large number emigrated in the 1950s and 1960s. The destinations were New York, Milan, Hamburg, and other places. I do not know when my grandparents were born. My father was born in 1934 and spent his early childhood in Mashhad, where he grew up with seven siblings. Later, his family moved to Tehran. He stayed there until the age of

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fourteen or fifteen. Then, my grandfather sent him to Israel, together with two of his brothers. My father went to a religious kibbutz on the Sea of Galilee with the help of the so called Youth Aliyah, a Jewish organization that arranged for the resettlement of Jewish youth in Israel in kibbutzim and youth villages. That was in the 1950s. He grew up there as a teenager and later joined the army. At his father’s request, he returned to Tehran in his early twenties. In the early 1960s, he moved from Iran to Germany. In Frankfurt, he joined his uncle’s business and sold oriental carpets. My mother was born in Tehran in 1946 and came to Israel as an infant. She grew up in Israel. Although her parents spoke Persian, the children always answered in Hebrew. My parents are first cousins; they have known each other from childhood. The families encouraged them to get married. On the way from Iran to Germany, my father made a stopover in Tel Aviv and married my mother. Then they moved to Frankfurt together and lived there for several years. My sister and I were born there. The dire financial situation of my parents was the reason my father sent his children and wife to Israel in 1970. We lived with my grandmother in Hadera, a city in the north of Israel. When my father’s financial situation improved, he brought us back to Frankfurt. That must have been after 1971—I am not sure about the exact date. Sometime later, we moved to the city Pforzheim. My mother had a cousin there who traded in gemstones, and my father started to work there. Our family life was traditionally Jewish. My father attends synagogue but does not observe Shabbat.

My Own Story Pforzheim is a small city. I attended a German high school in Pforzheim, because there was no Jewish school. I did not find the people I met to be very open. The Jewish community consisted of about thirteen families in total. I did not feel at home, either in Pforzheim or in Germany in general. I always felt that I did not belong there. I wanted to leave the country as soon as possible. I wanted to return to Israel and live on a kibbutz, but my parents insisted that I stay with them until I was eighteen years old. I obeyed them, but it became a big issue of contention between us. My three siblings were a lot less ambivalent about Germany than I was. But in the end, all of us left Germany. As soon as I had graduated from high school, I went to the United States and studied there for two semesters. But I realized that America was not the right place for me either. I moved to Israel in 1990. I studied international relations at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and finished my BA in 1993. Then my

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father called me back to Pforzheim to help him with his business. But I realized soon that Pforzheim was still not the right place for me, certainly not after spending three years in Israel. Then I went back to the United States. After thirteen years there, I finally did what I had always wanted to do: I moved to Israel in 2007. I lived near Tel Aviv. I partied, enjoyed life, and reconnected with old friends. Then I started to work for an internet company. Later on, I founded my own company. Although I had a good income, it bothered me to spend the whole day in front of the computer. Then I realized that I had to set different priorities: I wanted a job that really fulfills me. I had spent so many years of my life fulfilling other people’s expectations; now was the time to do what I enjoy. So I sold my company and trained as a tour guide. Since 2014, I have been working as a tour guide, and I love the work. I mostly work with pilgrims—for example, from free churches, with Evangelicals or Protestants. These tourists have a Christian religious perspective on the Jewish people.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? I consider it antisemitism when people say: “The Jews are like this, the Jews are like that,” or “YOU Jews are this and that.” When you make a generalization about the entire Jewish people and believe that all its members behave in the same way: that is antisemitism. Actually, I experience antisemitism with many of my travel groups. Time and again I am confronted with the following statements: “Why are you Jews so smart?,” “Why are you Jews so good at earning a lot of money?” These are classic prejudices. The tourists who reproduce these antisemitic stereotypes certainly do not consider themselves antisemites. They believe that their love of Israel automatically absolves them of antisemitism. They love the concept of the Jewish people, but still they have prejudices against Jews. When I point out to them that their statements are antisemitic, they do not understand me at all. Basically, they do not grasp what they are saying. This is proof to me how deeply antisemitic tropes are rooted in the minds of many people. I also had antisemitic experiences in Germany. I was playing with friends in front of the house, and all of a sudden some kids shouted: “Ofer stinks, they all stink, these Jews!” I also heard repeatedly, “Gas the Jew!” Slogans like that came from the children. Later, I was in a pub with my friends in Pforzheim having a beer. When the bill arrived, they swapped “jokes”: “Oh, watch out that Ofer the Jew doesn’t rip us off and skip out on the bill.” This kind of situation annoyed me. I could not understand why my buddies did not question their

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own prejudices. It did not occur to them how insulting their “jokes” were for me. I just did not see myself as one of them; I looked different and celebrated different holidays. I did not have any sense of belonging to the society in which I lived. On the other hand, I felt a strong connection to my Jewish identity and heritage. At school, everyone knew that I was the Jew. And how do I know that everyone knew that? Because here and there people from other classes said to me, “Ah, you are the Jew, right?” I have never experienced physical violence; it was always verbal. At the time, it was not politically correct in Germany to make negative statements about Jews—the Holocaust was too present back then. I often had the feeling that the teachers and many friends were afraid of saying something wrong; therefore, they often kept their thoughts to themselves. They knew that certain things could not be expressed loudly. I suppose that things are very different in Germany today, especially since more Muslims live in Germany nowadays. The Holocaust was the most terrible manifestation of antisemitism. Although my family was not affected by this catastrophe, the subject has obsessed me since my childhood. The Holocaust was the reason I wanted to leave Germany. I cannot explain precisely where this obsession with the Shoah came from. I can only say that it did not come from extremely negative experiences. In the past, antisemites were always Nazis in my eyes. I thought only neo-Nazis could hate Jews. Later, I realized that that assumption was wrong. I discovered that antisemitism could take on the form of criticism of Israel and even come from left-wingers who said, “We have to boycott Jewish stores to harm Israel, because all Jews support Israel.” That is pure antisemitism. When I explain this to people who call for such boycotts, they do not see this correlation. They just do not want to understand that their actions are clearly antisemitic. That outrages me. It is because of these experiences that I realized that Germany can never be my country.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Israel gives me much security with regard to antisemitism. Of course, many people would say “Israel’s behavior contributes to antisemitism in the world.” For me, such a sentence is wrong. There will always be people who do not like Israel; there will always be people who do not like Jews. For me, this hatred of Israel, this illogical criticism of the Jewish state, is simply antisemitism in disguise, which comes strongly from the political left. Israel is the country where I do not have to listen to this stupid talk about all Jews being rich. On the other hand, in Israel I am the German, the “Jecke,” the term used for Jews who immigrated from Germany. Somehow, I do not really belong anywhere. Nevertheless, Israel is the country where I have felt most

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comfortable ever since I was a little boy. Although I realize that I am also very German, Israel is the country where I can live in peace; it is my home. And when I explain this to my guests, they say, “What? You can live in peace in this country that has so many wars?” And I reply, “Yes, in this country, about which you hear so much in the news, you can live very well and very comfortably and very safely. It is much more pleasant for me than in Germany or America.”

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? Not at all. I often criticize Israel myself. But it is a pity when people from abroad form an extremely negative opinion about Israel due to biased media coverage. I find it unacceptable when people who are not familiar with the reality here are convinced that they are well informed. I find it more unbearable when they insist on providing us with “good” advice. It upsets me terribly when people are prepared to believe any lie when it comes to Israel and Jews. Statements such as “the Mossad kills people” and “Israel is a criminal state” make me sick. And then I question my German friends who express such positions: “How can you say that? You have known me for years. Would I live in a criminal state? Would I live in a surveillance state? Where do you get these ideas from? I have shown you Israel.” They are not aware of the contradiction in their behavior: they visit the country with a Jewish Israeli whom they trust, and yet they accept any criticism of Israel, no matter how absurd. That is where logic stops.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? We are no angels. But there is a difference between expressing concrete and well-founded criticism and recurring to antisemitic tropes and motives. People can and should criticize Israel, but they should do it in a way that makes sense and is appropriate. Unfortunately, the mistakes of Israeli politics are often used as a pretext for antisemitic attitudes. There are all too many examples of this: caricatures, parodies, and articles. Time and again, the most evil antisemitic stereotypes are used, because they are part of the European cultural heritage.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Less and less. The classic right-wing radical person from the time I grew up— the skinhead with bomber jacket, bald head, and army boots—hated Jews and foreigners. At that time, only few Muslims lived in Germany. Foreigners were mainly of Turkish and Italian origin. And these racists certainly did not like gays and lesbians either.

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Today it is different. Antisemitism has become socially acceptable again; it can be expressed openly. And, unfortunately, it often comes from people who previously have been targets of group-related enmity. Antisemitic slogans can also come from other minorities or the LGBTQ community.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? I have always struggled with this question. On the one hand, you cannot change people who have antisemitic thoughts, since their prejudices are not logical, but based on emotions. On the other hand, I cannot ignore antisemitic behavior. But most of the time I avoid disputes. I simply have no desire to get involved. Furthermore, I do not want to justify myself all the time. I know what my Jewish identity and the State of Israel mean to me. Therefore, I do not automatically respond to antisemitism. However, when I do react, I ask, “What is the point of this statement, of this way of thinking? Just stick to the facts!” And when I know the facts, I confront people with them. Interestingly enough, they fall silent very quickly then. I think that you have to show your colors, that you should stand by what you believe in. If lies, rumors, and stereotypes about Jews and other groups are spread, you should at least draw attention to them. It is my goal to initiate a thinking process. I would like to get these prejudiced people to think logically, to acquire knowledge, to deal seriously with antisemitism instead of adopting phrases. In European countries, decision-makers must combat antisemitism so that it does not keep spreading like a cancer.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? I think it is right that there are various Israeli and also Jewish organizations in the Diaspora that focus on antisemitism. They deal with and document antisemitism, observe the development, and try to counteract. Their work is very important to ensure that a more balanced image of Israel and of Jews reaches the public and that antisemitic positions do not remain unchallenged. In this respect, Israel can certainly make its contribution in the fight against antisemitism.

chapter

9 Raphael Shklarek

If Jews do not fight antisemitism, they take on the role of a victim. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1991 Vienna, Austria Vienna, Austria 2016 Tel Aviv, Israel Political scientist

The Story of My Family My paternal grandparents are both from Israel: They were born before the founding of the state, my grandfather in 1936, and my grandmother in 1938. On my father’s side, the family was Orthodox, but my grandfather rebelled against the religious way of life. My grandmother’s parents came from Vienna and Poland and emigrated to Palestine at the turn of the century. Whether their decision was prudent foresight or simply luck, I do not know. In any case, they left Europe early enough to escape the Holocaust. The family was connected to the Jewish tradition, but at the same time they were very liberal. My mother’s family met a completely different fate. My great-grandmother lived in Vienna. She was pregnant with my grandmother when Hitler’s troops invaded Vienna in 1938. She was one of the last people to be allowed by the Gestapo (Geheime Staatspolizei—Secret State Police of Nazi Germany) to leave the country. She found her way to Damascus, where her daughter was born in 1938. However, they also fled from the pogroms over there: first to Beirut in 1947 and then back to Vienna when the State of Israel was proclaimed in 1948. My mother’s father took the hardest hit from the Holocaust. He was born in a small Jewish town (shtetl) in Poland. We do not know his exact date of

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birth, since his papers can no longer be found. His research revealed that he was born between 1926 and 1929. He was deported to the Lodz Ghetto and from there to Auschwitz. His last station was the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria, where he was a forced laborer. American soldiers liberated him from there in 1945. After the war, my grandfather studied journalism in Austria. Later, he was the publisher of the magazine Das Jüdische Echo (http:// juedischesecho.at/). He also founded the Jewish Welcome Service Vienna (https://jewish-welcome.at/en/). This organization invited Jews who had been expelled from the city, as guests of the municipality. Although their property, which had been looted during the Nazi-time, was returned to them only in the form of a minimal fraction, if at all, his initiative represented a gesture of reconciliation. My grandfather died in 2007. My maternal grandparents divorced when my mother was three years old. My mother moved to Mallorca with my grandmother and her sister. My grandmother married a strict Catholic Spaniard over there, and so it happened that my mother grew up without any connection to Judaism. At the age of eleven, she moved to her father in Vienna. It was only there that she became familiar with Judaism. My father and his older sister grew up in a deliberately Jewish, traditional, and at the same time liberal, home. His mother was a teacher of religious education at the French School. The family did not observe the religious laws of Shabbat, but they celebrated the Jewish holidays. My grandparents told me and the other grandchildren many stories from the Bible.

My Own Story I was born in Vienna in 1991 and had a happy and protected childhood. From the age of kindergarten until my high school graduation, I went to the French School, so my circle of friends stayed the same. On Jewish holidays, we visited the synagogue, but beyond that I had little contact with the Jewish community. I was reluctant to go to the synagogue. I was much more interested in the Bible stories my grandmother told me. As much as I appreciate the spiritual aspects of religion, I dislike its institutionalized form. I separate spirituality, the belief in God, and nationhood, the rigid rules, and the people with whom I associate organized religion. These two forms of expression do not necessarily have to contradict each other, but it definitely can be the case. After finishing high school, I studied psychology in Vienna from 2010 to 2013 and graduated with a bachelor’s degree. Afterwards, I studied sound engineering, because I have a passion for electronic music. In 2016, I moved to Israel. I knew the country from many visits with my family, but I also wanted

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to discover it by myself. Since then, I have completed a master’s degree in political science with a specialization in conflict studies. Now, I am looking for work.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? I differentiate between two types of antisemitism. The first form I call “classical” antisemitism, meaning that Jews are perceived as a threat. This form of Jew-hatred blames them for undesirable social developments and therefore uses them as scapegoats for social problems. This applies not only to Jews, but also to other minorities, but Jews in Europe have always been hit particularly hard by this phenomenon. The second manifestation is structural antisemitism that focuses exclusively on Jews. This is not only xenophobia directed against Jews, but also a collective demonization of this minority. Conspiracy ideologies and stereotypes such as “the Jews rule the world” can be attributed to this phenomenon. Moreover, such antisemites collectively slander all Jews as sly, stingy, rich, and obsessed with control. Personally, I was never exposed to aggressive antisemitism in Vienna. My friends believe in liberalism and humanism. I never hide my Jewish origins. Furthermore, I know how to defend myself, and the racist and antisemitic thugs sense that instinctively. They are mostly cowards and attack helpless people. Nevertheless, I have certainly experienced situations in which I was confronted with prejudices. In 2015, I worked as a waiter to earn money for moving to Israel. A friend visited the restaurant and was surprised to see me there working as a waiter. I asked her, “Why are you surprised that I work as a waiter?” She replied, “Well, your parents are Jewish and rich; why would you want to work as a waiter?” For me, this is a classic case of antisemitism. This phenomenon goes far beyond expressions like “Judensau” (literally “Jewish sow,” a Christian folk image that depicts Jews in obscene contact with a large sow) or slogans like “Kill the Jews!” It is not necessary to hate Jews in order to be antisemitic. It is enough to have internalized stereotypes such as “All Jews are rich, and it is beneath their dignity to work as a waiter.” Because behind such a statement lies the absurd idea that all Jews have been kissed by an invisible fairy who gives them money just because they are Jews so that they do not have to work. I remember a drastic incident marked by incredible stupidity. A student at the expensive private Vienna International School wrote on his Facebook page that he admired Hitler very much. When I once met him personally, I

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confronted him with this post: “How can you admire Hitler, who did so much harm, also to his own people, even if you don’t care about the Jews?” He replied, “Heil Hitler! The Jews are monsters.” There are countless examples of antisemitic statements and incidents in the public sphere in Austria that also affect the Jewish community. In the Austrian extreme right-wing party FPÖ (Freedom Party of Austria, or, in German, Freiheitliche Partei Österreichs), many politicians openly act out their antisemitism. For instance, Jörg Haider, their party chairman at that time, once attacked then president of the Jewish Community Ariel Muzicant. He used an allusion to the washing powder of the same name, Ariel: “For the life of me I cannot understand how a man called Ariel would have to do so much dirty laundry.” Among the fraternities that are close to the FPÖ and only accept academics, antisemitism is an integral part of their ideology and discourse. They refer to the Greater German Empire, created by Hitler since 1937, and meet annually at the Ulrichsberg to pay homage to the “fallen heroes”—that is, followers of National Socialism. This celebration is considered an event of right-wing extremists and neo-Nazis. In my opinion, the attitude toward antisemitism in Austria has not changed over the years. Although the current government tries to give the impression of fighting antisemitism, in reality it is making it socially acceptable. Members of the government get carried away many times and make antisemitic statements. They thereby strengthen antisemitic prejudices of their voters. This applies not only to the Jewish minority, but also—and especially—to other groups. Austrian right-wing populists pretend to be friendly toward Jews. But the only reason they do that is to discriminate against the Muslim minority, which they reject even more than the Jews. In my view, it is a worrying development that some, though very few, members of the Jewish community approve of the government’s xenophobia and are publicly involved with the government. My perception of antisemitism has changed over the years. In my youth, I was still very naive toward the phenomenon. My grandfather Leon Zelman wrote his memoirs, Ein Leben nach dem Überleben (A Life after Survival), together with the Austrian journalist Armin Thurnherr. Through this book, I got to know his whole story. Later, I was influenced by books such as Hitler’s Vienna by the historian Brigitte Hamann. Up until then, I had thought that the Nazis were the “big bad wolf.” Only by reading this and other books did I understand the complex sociopolitical context. Today, it is clear to me that Austria is not immune to such developments, even nowadays. My impression is that the act of coming to terms with the past is much more profound and sustainable in Germany than in Austria. Germany could not escape that guilt. This does not mean that every German would have volun-

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tarily said, “We were Nazis, and we are learning from our past.” The country, however, was forced to face its guilt. Austria, on the other hand, has staged itself as the first victim of Hitler for a long time. It was not until 1988 that the chancellor of that time, Franz Vranitzky, officially admitted the country’s complicity in the Holocaust. In a speech in Jerusalem, he expressed his willingness to face the past. This admission came fifty years after Austria’s annexation to Hitler-Germany. This delay only proves the great omission Austria has made on that issue. Now, thirty years after Vranitzky’s declaration, the last contemporary witnesses are passing away and can no longer talk about their experiences. Austria has waited far too long, because its society finds it difficult to learn from its history.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? On a personal level, Israel gives me security, because the establishment of the Jewish state marks the end of the history of Jews as a persecuted minority. As long as Israel exists, Jews will not have to be on the run again and again. With the destruction of the Second Temple, the Jewish people were no longer self-determined. Whether they wanted to or not, Jews did not have the choice, they had to adapt to an identity as (mostly second-class) citizens of states in the Diaspora. In my mind, this is one of the reasons why many clung to the Jewish way of life and wanted to marry only within the Jewish community. I can understand that this attitude might be interpreted as elitist and perhaps even racist. But it is a fact that there would be no Jewish life today if Jews had not held on so strongly to their own community. The establishment of the State of Israel completely changed this situation, and for me this is the greatest achievement of Zionism. At the same time, I see contemporary Israel as an antithesis to openness and liberalism, which define Jewish identity for me. What I mean is not at all the people of Israel, but the politics of the state. As a Jew, I cannot identify with this policy at all. On the one hand, the state is democratic, but since security is its first priority, many liberal values are increasingly pushed to the background. The government is democratically elected and thus represents society. This strengthens antisemitism abroad, since it gives many European critics of Israel the opportunity to hide their latent antisemitism behind “intellectual and humanist” arguments. Thus, the Israeli government provides the country’s opponents with ammunition against the country.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? There is no simple or clear answer to this question. It is always difficult to expose antisemitism that is directed against Israel.

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Israel is a country like any other and can and should be criticized in the same way. But compared to other trouble spots, Israel is denounced disproportionately often. UN resolutions regularly denounce the country, which does not apply to cruel dictatorships such as Iran, Syria, and others. These decisions completely ignore conflicts that have claimed many more victims than the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. This applies to the everyday level as well. When I was at a party with other students, the topic of Israel came up. A fellow student was excited: “To hell with the State of Israel; what they are doing there is genocide. Nothing that has happened to the Jews in history justifies what is happening there.” Germany caused two world wars. Its right to exist has never been questioned. The United States was built on the back of the Indians. Their right to exist has never been questioned. Africa is being exploited even today. All these examples did not seem to worry the student, whom I consider a representative for many others, nearly as much as the discrimination that the Palestinian population suffers. At the same time, she could easily deny the Jews the right to live in their own sovereign state. It seems that many critical Europeans forget the role of Europe in colonialism, which has created completely incoherent borders in both the Middle East and Africa, from which Israel emerged too. Such incidents give me the impression that Israel is today’s Yellow Star of David, the symbol that the Nazis used to mark Jews. The State of the Jews is measured by different standards than other states, while countries ignore Israel’s difficult history—for example, the fact that its neighbors still regard it as a foreign body in the region. By saying this, I am not trying to deny that Israel is also responsible for the conflict. Criticism of Israel is often justified. As I have said earlier, I oppose Israel’s government policy. The problem is that antisemitism can also hide behind legitimate criticism. This is the case when criticism is articulated exclusively in relation to Israel. I think therefore that it is very important to analyze the political statements of politicians as a whole. In this context, the case of Jeremy Corbyn is an interesting example. The current leader of the Labor Party in England repeatedly attacks Israel, while at the same time maintaining friendly relations with terrorist organizations such as Hamas and Hezbollah. He mixes left-wing liberal cosmopolitanism with sympathy for Islamism. So I keep asking myself: “Is Corbyn actually committed to the establishment of a Palestinian state next to Israel? Or is he fraternizing with terrorists to fight a common enemy? Is he therefore willing to sweep his moral claims under their carpet?” How am I supposed to understand that Corbyn publicly said he was prepared to lay a wreath for the Palestinian assassins on the Israeli team at the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, but not in the World Holocaust Remembrance Center Yad Vashem? He is not willing

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to commemorate the victims of the Holocaust, but he is perfectly prepared to do so for the Palestinians who attacked civilians. Why does he take part in demonstrations against Israel organized by sympathizers of Hamas and Hezbollah in London? He could initiate events himself to publicly debate Israel’s policies in a critical way without questioning and even clearly denying the country’s right to exist. There is no such politician in Austria today. Instead, right-wing populists are cozying up to the Jews. They want to show that they are not racist and antisemitic, thus legitimizing their incitement to hatred against Muslims. So it comes that antisemitic politicians make a pilgrimage to Israel to assure the Jewish state of their friendship. They admire Israel because it fights against Muslims. Their racism and also their antisemitism are disguised as philosemitism.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? On the one hand, on the Internet and in the media in general, Israel is often presented in a distorted and wrong way. On the other hand, because of the Occupation and discrimination against the Arab minority within Israel, the country cannot live up to its own claim to be a moral and open democracy. This creates a vicious circle. Israel tries to present itself as a moral country, while often the opposite is being documented. Then again, Europeans are not aware of the very real threats Israel faces. I do not believe that antisemitism in Austria would fade away if Israel satisfied the moral expectations of Europeans. However, it would be easier to expose antisemitism.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? There is a clear link between antisemitism and xenophobia. It is the general rejection of anything foreign. That is why I do not buy it from any fraternity member that he is a friend of the Jews. Then there is the version from the political left wing. The mantra of these people is “We love Muslims, we speak out against Islamophobia and for refugees. And we hate Israel because it belongs to the axis of evil together with America.” They might as well say “Jews” instead of “Israel.” That would be more honest.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? On a personal level, you always have to stand up for your identity; otherwise you have a sad life. If Jews do not fight antisemitism, they take on the role of a victim. Of course, this does not apply to the time before and during the Holo-

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caust, when Jews were helplessly exposed to persecution. But today it is in our power to react to attacks. It works best on a personal level. In our immediate environment, we can break down stereotypes through dialogue. At a national level however, the will to fight antisemitism is not genuine in Austria and other European countries: the containment of antisemitism is in most cases not a top priority of governments and societies in Europe. Therefore, I do not believe the politicians and their hollow speeches. This is also— and especially—true for Austria. Of course, there are praiseworthy exceptions: for example, organizations who dedicate their work to fight antisemitism. Unfortunately, most of their efforts remain unnoticed. The public discourse is mostly concerned with completely different topics. The majority of the population would prefer to ban history from its collective memory and regard antisemitism as a problem of the past. Therefore, educational work in this context must not focus primarily on the Holocaust. Dealing with antisemitism should focus on its origin, its current manifestations, and its close relationship to other forms of racism. In a second step, the relevant influencers should ask themselves the following questions: “How can we effectively counter racism in the globalized world of today? Do we need economic security or cultural exchange in order to be open to the unknown other?” I do not see this process happening in Europe; therefore, I want to emphasize again that I consider the speeches of European decision-makers as hollow phrases.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight Against Antisemitism in Europe? Israel should not be involved directly in the fight against antisemitism in Europe. Israel’s society has enough problems of its own. Europe would not accept interference on the part of Israel anyway. In this respect, Israeli involvement could even be counterproductive. Moreover, the inequity that exists in different spheres in Israeli society and the reality of the Occupation unfortunately add even more fuel to the fire of European antisemites.

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10 Arthur Karpeles

Antisemitism is an incurable disease. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Lived in Israel in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1954 Cluj-Napoca, Romania Romania and Israel 1961–1984 Vienna, Austria Fashion salesman

The Story of My Family My grandparents on my mother’s side were from Galicia, on my father’s side from Transylvania. My mother’s family was strictly Orthodox. My father’s parents were also religious, but less strict. My two grandfathers were soldiers in the First World War and fought for Emperor Franz-Joseph I. When the Second World War began, both families lived in Cluj-Napoca, Romania. Both my grandmothers were deported to Auschwitz, together with the smaller children, and murdered there. The older children were sent to forced labor with their two grandfathers. The hardships of the forced labor killed my paternal grandfather before the end of the war. My maternal grandfather survived and returned to Cluj-Napoca, but his wife and two children had been murdered in Auschwitz. Whereas my father and his sister survived the extermination camp, their two brothers were killed. My mother survived, together with her father and two of her brothers. My mother was saved from Auschwitz by two girlfriends. They always helped each other, which increased their chances of survival. One of them was my father’s sister. When they returned from the extermination camp, she

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set up my parents with each other, and they got married immediately after the war. This kind of a quick wedding was not uncommon at that time. The Jews returned from the camps without parents, without siblings, without anything. I suppose that is why many survivors got married quickly and founded a family. My parents returned to their hometown. While they had been imprisoned in the extermination camp, strangers had settled in their homes. They had to rent a new apartment and build everything from scratch. After the Second World War, Romania fell under the influence of the Soviet Union. The state, the economy, and the society were systematically reshaped according to Stalinist ideology. In theory, all people were equal in communism. According to the official political doctrine, there was no discrimination against ethnic or religious minorities. But the reality was quite different. In practice, Jews were considered to be enemies of the system at that time. They were collectively suspected of being “Zionist agents.” Our parents tried to keep the Jewish religious laws as much as possible under the given circumstances. But my father, who was a goldsmith, was forced by his employer to work on Shabbat as well. He was not even allowed to participate in my brother’s Bar Mitzvah, the religious initiation ceremony at the age of thirteen. As if all of this had not been challenging enough, my parents faced an additional problem: both came from bourgeois, not working-class, families. At that time, bourgeois people were considered enemies of society. My parents felt persecuted and therefore applied for emigration to Palestine in 1946. They were fully aware that this fact could lead to harsh reprisal measures from the regime. And indeed, my mother was jailed in 1956 for six months under false pretenses. In the early days of communism people were still allowed to own small businesses and practice their trade at home. That is why my father had a goldsmith’s workshop. However, the business was registered in my mother’s name. During an inspection, the authorities found out that it was her husband who actually worked there. Until that point, this would not have been a problem. But just at that time a new law had come into effect, which strictly prohibited the employment of others. Officially, this law was not directed against Jews, but as a matter of fact they were targeted by the communist regime. In the course of the ensuing wave of arrests, “coincidentally,” it was mainly Jewish people who were put in prison. Back then, at kindergarten, the atmosphere was very rigid, entirely in the spirit of the political regime. The children had to sit stiffly on the chairs for hours and sing the songs of the Communist Party. And still, at home, we remained true to our Jewish tradition as best we could under these adverse circumstances. For example, we celebrated Passover at my grandfather’s place.

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My Own Story My parents had two children: my brother was born in 1946, and I am eight years his junior. When I was five years old, my parents sent me to a so-called cheder, as is customary in traditional Jewish families. This is a school for young children where they learn the Hebrew script and prayers. Our cheder was in a back room in the courtyard of the synagogue. Very few parents dared to take this risk. There were perhaps four children there. As a child, I felt my parents’ fear and felt the same emotions. We had to wait fifteen years for our permit to leave Romania. We finally received it in 1961. I was eight years old at that time, and my brother fourteen. We were not allowed to take anything with us; forty-five pounds of luggage per person was allowed—that was it. My parents were forced to give up their apartment without any compensation. In addition, it cost us a lot of money to renounce our Romanian citizenship. We first traveled to Vienna. Then my mother and I moved on to Belgium, because she wanted to see her father one last time before leaving for Israel. He lived in England, but we did not get entry permits there. We could enter Belgium, though. So, my old grandfather and my uncle traveled to Antwerp to meet us. After spending two months there, we continued our journey to Israel. My father and brother went from Vienna directly to Venice, and from there to Israel by ship. They arrived before us. They were assigned one of the asbestos barracks in a camp for new immigrants. It was not even finished, only the side walls had been erected. My father stood by and waited for the completion of the roof. At that time, about five thousand Jews from many countries came to Israel every day. Today you would probably call them refugees. That is why hundreds of such temporary shelters were built overnight. Our family lived near the coastal city of Netanya, in the middle of the sand dunes. There were no streets, no stores, nothing. Since we had no furniture, my father turned the wooden boxes that had been our suitcases into a table and a chair. There was a kerosene lamp for lighting; we had not yet been connected to the electricity grid. I went to school in this camp, although I did not understand a word of Hebrew. Therefore, I could not follow the lessons and felt out of place. But then the teacher drew letters on the blackboard and said, “These are the ‘Aleph’ and the ‘Beth,’” the first two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. And I knew these from the cheder in Romania. Slowly, I learned the language and adapted to the new environment. At home we continued to live a religious-traditional life. We celebrated all the Jewish holidays and Shabbat.

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My father soon got a job in a goldsmith’s studio, although he did not speak Hebrew. My mother was a housewife. Later on, with the help of relatives from abroad, my parents bought a small subsidized apartment in Netanya. We were four people on fifty square meters, but happy and content. I graduated from a Yeshiva Tikhonit grammar school, which is a combination of a high school and a religious school. In the morning, we studied for our high school diploma; the afternoon was dedicated to the study of the Talmud, a collection of writings and the primary source of Jewish law. In 1972, I was drafted into the army. I was sent to a military base. It would have been very nice there, but, unfortunately, one year later the Yom Kippur War broke out. I fought at the front from the beginning until the end of this military conflict. Afterwards, I attended an officers’ academy and served for a few more years. In 1978, I quit the service because I longed for peace and quiet. I then joined my father’s business. I worked with him until I met my future wife who lived in Vienna. My wife was born in Vienna. She agreed to move to Israel. In 1980, we got married in Israel and lived there for three years. Then my wife fell ill, unfortunately. In Israel, they could not treat her condition properly, and she went to Austria to get medical care. For a few months, I went back and forth between Israel and Austria, and since 1984 I have been living in Vienna, too. My wife and I eat kosher food, celebrate all the holidays, and keep to the laws of Shabbat. I define myself as an orthodox Jew. I am a member of the Jewish community, but not active. I do not think that the community should be as involved in politics as it is. In my opinion, it should focus on Jewish people and institutions. When I am in Vienna, I always go to the synagogue. Except in the capital, there are almost no active synagogues left in Austria. Many have been turned into museums. Just like before, I came to the country without speaking a word of the language. At first, I did not realize that I would spend the rest of my life in Vienna. But as soon as I realized that, I made every effort to learn German quickly. But since I had to start working immediately, I could not attend a language course. I learned German while working. That was not easy at the beginning. Today, we have a family business in the fashion industry. I visit the customers, meaning I travel all over the country. In the Israeli army, I had been told to avoid being recognized as a Jew abroad, as this could have unpleasant consequences. Later, my Jewish friends in Vienna repeated this warning.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism is hatred against Jews without any real justification. For an antisemite, it is not relevant what Jewish people do or where they belong, he or

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she rejects them because they are Jews. And when you ask antisemites “Why do you hate Jews?,” they churn out old clichés such as “Because the Jews killed Jesus,” “The Jews are greedy,” culminating in the conspiracy ideology that they ruled the world or that they drove others out of the market, and so on and so forth. There is one incident I remember well: I went to a store in a suburb of Vienna—my German was still very poor. The owner asked me where I was from. I said Israel. He got mad. While I still was there, he called my father-inlaw and yelled at him because he employed foreigners. That was an antisemitic experience for me. He might have gotten as upset if I had been from a different country, but in my experience, many people in Austria have a different attitude toward Jews and Israel than toward other groups and countries. In Vienna, many Jews wear a head covering. The big city allows for that. But when I travel to rural areas, I do not wear a kippah. That would not be a good idea. I am not afraid of physical attacks; I am just concerned that some customers would not buy goods from me. I also remember a conversation I heard in a pub. An obviously somewhat drunk man said, “How dare the Jews come back here after what they have done to us, how dare they?” That was clearly an antisemitic remark. It would certainly not have been advisable to reveal that I’m Jewish to the people sitting there. At the beginning of my time in Austria, I thought that any person wearing a costume might have been a National Socialist at the time, because that’s what you see in the movies. But then I realized that actually there is no automatic correlation. Antisemites can wear costumes or suits, and Austrians in traditional costumes do not necessarily have to be hostile toward Jews. With the years, I have overcome some stereotypical perceptions, and today I have a more differentiated view of antisemites in Austria. The relationship between non-Jewish people and Jews is somewhat tense, usually. When people learn that I come from Israel, most of the time the reaction is: “Ah, how nice, I’ve been there once.” However, then, inevitably, people start to stutter and ask, “Are you . . . are you . . .” and they do not know how to continue, “Israeli . . . Israelite . . . ?” People do not dare to say “Jew.” Then I realize that “Jew” in their minds is actually an insult or a shameful expression. Otherwise they would have no problem pronouncing the word.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Many descendants of Holocaust survivors are convinced that Israel offers Jews from the Diaspora a refuge. What I want to say is that [Diaspora] Jews no longer have to endure; they have an alternative. This was not the case before the Shoah. This credo gives security and a good feeling to all the Jews I know. I grew up in Israel and served in the military for a long time. Israel means a

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lot to me. It would never be a problem for me to go to Israel in order to leave antisemitism behind.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? First of all, I take a look at who is criticizing and what is being criticized. If someone denounces human rights violations in Israel exclusively while ignoring much more serious cases in other countries, then that is pure antisemitism in my eyes. In our society in Western and Central Europe, antisemitic statements are not socially acceptable. Almost no politician can afford that. But to criticize Israel—that goes down well. So if European decision-makers only criticize Israeli violations of human rights and at the same time chum up with states such as Iran, then that is antisemitic behavior in my eyes. If the same politician would rage against the policies of twenty other countries at the same time and include Israel among them—then I could accept this statement as honest criticism.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? I do not see a correlation. There have been different governments in Israel with prime ministers from different parties. Nevertheless, the country has always been criticized in the international arena. For example, socialist parties or governments in Europe criticized Israeli governments even when a sister party was in power there, and that was no different even in the times of the Oslo Peace Accords between the Israeli prime minister Itzhak Rabin and the chairman of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), Yasser Arafat.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Antisemitism has a very long tradition in Austria. It is proven to date back more than a thousand years, and I have read old documents about it. In those early days, there were neither refugees nor openly homosexual people, but there was already antisemitism. Even today, there are people who do not basically have a problem with refugees, homosexuals, or Roma and Sinti, but who are antisemitic. If someone rejects Roma and Sinti, for example, he or she is also against Jews in any case. The other way round, however, this is not necessarily the case. What I mean to say is that if somebody rejects minorities in his or her society, he or she is certainly also antisemitic. As I already pointed out, it does not necessarily work in both directions. In the last elections in 2017, the Freedom Party of Austria (FPÖ) won many more votes. In several other European countries, too, populist right-wing par-

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ties have increased their power. Personally, I do not believe that the consolidation of right-wing parties will lead to a wave of antisemitism. This development has nothing to do with Judaism and antisemitism, but it has to do with xenophobia. Many Europeans refuse to welcome so many refugees into their societies. One of the arguments the right-wing politicians use to justify their rejection of refugees is that the latter could be a potential danger to the Jewish community. They claim that Muslim refugees import antisemitism to Europe. Whether their concern for the wellbeing of Jews is genuine is open to question. But in principle I see it that way, absolutely. Many surveys show that in their countries of origin—for example, Syria— the refugees grew up with incitement against Israel and Jews. And, thus, they bring antisemitic ideas to Europe. Many terror attacks against Jewish people or institutions in Europe are carried out by Islamist migrants. In Vienna, too, there have been attacks, ranging from verbal abuse to physical attacks against Jews.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? During my military service, I learned that in order to fight against an enemy, you have to know him very well. What is his strength, what is he, where is he, what does he want? To my greatest surprise, I am realizing that, to this day, no one in the world can explain the roots of antisemitism. It even exists in countries where there are no living Jews. I often ask myself, when did antisemitism—as we know it today—actually begin? I believe that it began with the spread of Christianity. When Christianity not only broke away from Judaism, but also wanted to be its successor, that’s when the antisemitic attacks began. These fell on fertile ground for many people because the Jews held on to their faith and tradition. In the nineteenth century, although many Jews in Europe were prepared to integrate and even assimilate, they did not achieve civic equality. I do not consider assimilation an effective way to escape antisemitism. I follow the media with much attention. Even though I cannot prove it statistically, I have the impression that Jews are disproportionally often the protagonists of negative media reports. I am no expert, but I have the impression that educational work does not contain antisemitism. In my perception, positive achievements are the exception, because antisemitism cannot be countered with logical arguments and evidence. These are ignored, dismissed as “fake.” Antisemitism is an incurable disease.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? It is uniquely and exclusively the task of the European countries to fight against antisemitism in their own society, and by no means Israel’s. However, only

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Jews are deeply concerned by this endeavor in Europe. Many politicians often pay lip service to combating hatred of Jews; it is just that, no more and no less. There is no political will, and therefore little is being done for the fight against antisemitism in Europe. If the efforts to combat antisemitism were serious, the curricula in schools would have to be changed. Moreover, media coverage of Israel would have to become less one-sided.

chapter

11 Tirza Lemberger

Not everybody who does not like me is an antisemite. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Austria since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1938 Jerusalem, Israel Jerusalem, Israel 1960 Vienna, Austria Lecturer in Jewish Studies

The Story of My Family My paternal grandmother was born in Oettingen (Germany) in 1877; she was the fifth of thirteen children. My father’s father was born in Nuremberg (Germany) in 1867. His parents were merchants; the family was Jewish Orthodox. They had a kosher kitchen, kept Shabbat and all Jewish holidays. When the National Socialists came to power, my grandmother, who had been widowed at an early age, did not want to leave Germany. Like many other German Jews, she could not imagine what was to come. But my father insisted, and so she fled to Palestine in 1933. My maternal grandparents were both born in Germany, my grandmother in Frankfurt in 1887, and my grandfather in Halberstadt in 1879. They lived in Frankfurt and were members of the neo-Orthodox community founded by Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. Rabbi Hirsch had taught Orthodox Jews how they could combine religiosity and academic education. His approach countered the common prejudice that Jews were either religious or had a broad general education. For instance, my grandfather was an ordained rabbi and doctor of physics and mathematics. He taught these subjects at the Hirsch School.

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In 1939, my maternal grandparents fled from Germany to Palestine. My father was born in Nuremberg in 1911, the youngest of three children. He studied mathematics and physics. In 1932, he was still given permission to postpone an oral exam at university that was supposed to take place during a Jewish day of fasting. But only a few months later, as a consequence of Adolf Hitler taking power, he was expelled from the university for being a Jew. My father sensed the danger to his life and got hold of a passport just in time. He justified his request with his need to spend a semester abroad. Thus, on 30 January 1933, he held a valid passport. At first, he stayed in Germany and trained as an electrician. In Nuremberg, the employment of a Jew was no longer conceivable at that time. So he moved to an aunt’s house in Stuttgart. He worked there for the BZ-Werke and very soon received a permanent position, even though the company knew he was Jewish. Thus, there were also differences within Germany in the discrimination against the Jewish population. At the end of 1934, he was able to emigrate to Palestine, where he was employed by the Jerusalem electric company. At the same time, he continued studying mathematics and physics at the Hebrew University. My mother was born in Frankfurt in 1912 as the second of four children. She graduated from the Hirsch School and passed her high school diploma at the municipal grammar school. She studied mathematics and physics, and was also forced to leave the university in 1933. That same year, she left for Palestine. There, she continued her studies. She earned her living as a worker in the kitchen of the hospital Shaare Zedek, and later on as a nanny. After she had finished her studies, she first worked as a music teacher, and later as a math teacher at a religious teacher training college for young women in Jerusalem. My parents married in Jerusalem and had four children.

My Own Story I was born in 1938 as the first child to my parents in Jerusalem. It was in this city that I lived through the Second World War. There were repeated air raid alarms, but since the Italians mostly bombed Tel Aviv, our lives were not endangered. In 1942, when the German general Rommel reached El-Alamein in Egypt, fear rose in Palestine. I certainly did not understand everything back then, but I did feel the fear and despair even as a child. To this day, my mother’s words sound in my ears as she said, “We fled Germany, but from here there is no escape.” My father served in the Palestine Volunteer Force, a Jewish-Arab force trained in defense. Therefore, most of the time he was not at home. This training benefited him in the defense of Jerusalem when the War of Independence started in 1948.

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I went to a religious school. After graduating from high school in 1955, I first studied at the music academy for one year. From 1957 on, I studied biology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem for a few semesters. After completing my year at the music academy in 1958, I went to London to continue my musical education. In England, I met my husband. After we got married in 1960, I moved to Vienna, where I have lived ever since. My husband was born in 1925 in the Polish city of Krakow; he was fourteen years old when the Second World War started. At first, he lived in the Krakow Ghetto; from there he was deported to Plaszow (Poland) and then to the Austrian concentration camp Mauthausen. After that he was brought to Linz (Austria), where he worked as a forced laborer at the Hermann-Göring-Werke, as they were called back then (today’s United Austrian Iron and Steel Works VÖEST). By the way, the State of Austria has not recognized this time for his pension, because he had not paid any social security contributions in the concentration camp. Just a note on the way Austria deals with its own history. Our family is religious, we belong to the Orthodox Kehal-Israel community in Vienna. I have eight children. Accordingly, for twenty years I was “only” a housewife and a mother. In official Austrian diction, this means that I had not worked at that time. Since the Austrian curriculum stipulates only two hours of religious education, Kehal-Israel and others started offering Jewish religious education. At first, I worked as a substitute teacher; later on, from 1990 to 1997, I was in charge of girls’ classes. In 1985, I enrolled in Jewish Studies with a minor in Arabic Studies at the University of Vienna. After my master’s degree in 1991, I started teaching Hebrew at university. I completed my doctoral thesis in 1994; my area of expertise is the history of the Jews in Islamic countries. Since then I have been teaching Jewish and Arabic studies at the University of Vienna.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism is the collective negative stereotyping of Jews. That does not mean in any way that if someone does not like a Jewish person in particular that he or she is automatically antisemitic. Not everybody who does not like me is an antisemite. As an Orthodox married Jewish woman, I always cover my head. But that does not necessarily imply that I am identified as a religious Jew. I think that is why I personally had little antisemitic experiences. It might also be because

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I live in a relatively protected environment. The non-Jewish people I meet are interested in Judaism and mostly have no antisemitic attitudes. When I taught Middle Eastern studies, I avoided such discussions. However, politically speaking, those years were relatively quiet. After the peace negotiations in Oslo. I even had some Arab students who wanted to prepare for the bright future for which we were hoping. Even later, when I also taught Muslim students in history, there were no special incidents. However, my children have had some unpleasant experiences at school. In 1975, a classmate said to my then ten-year-old daughter: “It’s a pity you weren’t all burnt.” I complained at school the next day. The very next day, the father of the child called me and apologized. I pointed out to him that his son surely must have picked up such statements somewhere. My daughter and this boy were in the same class then until they graduated from high school. There were no other problems between them in this matter following this incident. My other children also had confrontations with classmates. But they knew how to fight back and, when necessary, informed the teachers. Having said that, I would like to emphasize that these incidents were exceptional, and that the people in charge at school reacted quickly. The public sphere in Austria has always been marked by a more or less hidden antisemitism. At my children’s schools, the topic of the Holocaust was taught only in a marginalized form. I attribute this to the fact that Austria has always portrayed itself as the first victim of Hitler’s Germany. People tend to forget how enthusiastically people received Hitler in 1938. They welcomed the Anschluss, which was the annexation of Austria by Germany. In the past, we all heard those “slogans” from the right-wing political corner. Since the public most of the time rejected them vehemently, no concrete consequences were to follow. Today things are different. Due to the massive reception of mostly Muslim refugees and migrant workers, antisemitism is on the rise in Austria and Europe. Now the racists shout out their hateful messages, also against Jews. The functioning of antisemitism and racism can be compared to mechanisms in the body: when the democratic immune system of a society is weakened, the disease of group-related enmity breaks out. Of course, not all Muslims are criminals; however, many people have the impression that crime has increased in the wake of immigration. In the past, you could move around freely in Vienna without fear at any hour of the day or night. Today, we have become more careful. Some subway stations, including those I frequent, have become very uncomfortable places. The associated loss of a sense of security offers right-wing populists a base from which they can build their hate propaganda. Not only in Austria.

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There were also physical attacks against Jews in Vienna. But this is not part of everyday life, and the police protect Jewish institutions.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? The existence of Israel is a guarantee for the Jewish people not to be afflicted by a disaster on the scale of the Shoah ever again. Back then, the world stood by idly and accepted the mass extermination of the Jews. Today, Israel would not simply accept any acute threat against Jews in the Diaspora, but rather act. In this respect, Israel gives me a feeling of security. But it must also be said that the Middle East conflict has been exported to Europe many times. Repeated attacks are being perpetrated on Jewish institutions outside of Israel. In this sense, it also poses a threat to Jewish communities in the Diaspora by Islamist terrorism.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? For me, that is the case when people automatically adopt the Palestinian point of view without questioning. Europeans are naive and adopt the Arabic narrative without checking it for accuracy and without taking the Israeli version into consideration. This leads to a criticism of Israel based on imprecise or incomplete facts at best. For me, this is a bias based on antisemitism.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? Israel’s policy, in my opinion, is too focused on “What will the others say?,” and that can sometimes harm the country’s interests. Ultimately, this excessive consideration of public opinion abroad does not pay, because Israel is “scolded” regardless of its actions. International criticism is harsh in any case. In this context, though, I must emphasize that, to my knowledge, the Jewish community in Vienna is not being used as a scapegoat.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? If someone goes against a specific minority, this rejection can be extended to other minorities as well. The loss of a sense of security that many Austrians feel—whether justified or not—leads to the fact that the atmosphere against minorities becomes more violent. The next step is a rise in racism against different minorities in the society in general and antisemitism in particular.

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Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? It is important and appropriate to oppose and to deal with it proactively. A lot can be done there. It is not possible to eliminate the rejection of Israel, but it can be reduced significantly. The “traditional” European antisemitism, whether in its latent or open form, also has to be confronted with prevention. However, you have to know how to tackle it, because too many or the wrong measures can be counterproductive. Teachers should be trained how to deal with these subjects at school. The right information is a precondition for them to react appropriately. That includes the use of material used by antisemites, because then it is easy to expose false and stereotyping tropes. Therefore, educators must not only know the facts, but also be taught which arguments to use—and I believe that it can be done. In my own experience, correct arguments based on knowledge are the best weapon against antisemitism and unjustified attacks on Israel. When I am confronted with antisemitism, I react to it. However, I do not actively initiate discussions on the subject. With my lectures, articles, and radio interviews, I try to contribute to a correct picture of Judaism in Austria.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? In my opinion, Israel should keep a low profile in this context. It can act in international forums, but, in everyday life, the Jewish community and its members should counter antisemitism in Austria. I consider it our task to make Jewish history, culture, and religion accessible to the Austrian people who do not know much about it. I expect Israel to convey profound knowledge about everyday life in the country. For that, the Jews in Austria need more information and support from the authorities. So far, they do not provide us with enough support.

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12 Etgar Keret

To fight antisemitism exclusively does not make the world a better place. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1967 Ramat Gan, Israel Ramat Gan, Israel Tel Aviv, Israel Writer and filmmaker

The Story of My Family Since I am a son of Holocaust survivors, I know very little about the past of my family. My maternal grandparents lived in a small Polish town, Moshonov, close to Warsaw. It was a secular Jewish family. My mother was born there in 1934. There was some lack of clarity about her date of birth in our family. We were all sure that she was born in 1935. But we discovered later when we got access to a file that she was actually born a year earlier. Since she had lost her entire family, she had no reference to anything. She did not even remember her correct date of birth. When the Second World War started, she was five years old. Therefore, she did not understand everything that was happening around her. Nobody from her family survived the Shoah. Until today, there are many things about her history that she does not know. My mother was first imprisoned in the Warsaw Ghetto in 1940; then she was transferred to a ghetto just outside Warsaw. After the war, she was sent to an orphanage in the city. Later on, a Zionist organization brought her first to France and then to Palestine on a Jewish ref-

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ugee ship. We do not know the exact date, but it was before the establishment of the State of Israel. My mother was basically on her own when she arrived, and she lived in a boarding school until the age of her military service. She did her army service in the air force. After she was released, she worked as a copywriter for an advertising company. My father was born in 1927 in Bernovice, which belonged to Poland at that time. His parents were traditional, but not religious. The family had been imprisoned in the town’s ghetto, but they managed to escape. They hid in a hole they had dug themselves on a plot of a farm. My father and his parents spent more than six hundred days in this narrow and shallow hole, unable to stand or lie down. They were confined to sitting. When the Red Army liberated them, the Soviet soldiers had to carry them, because they were unable to stand or walk. That’s how they survived the Holocaust. Immediately after the end of the war, they were brought to Palestine on a refugee ship, like my mother. However, their vessel was caught by British soldiers and they were deported to Cyprus, since, under the British mandate, Jewish refugees were not allowed to enter Palestine. My father’s brother was born on the island. Right after the establishment of the Jewish state in 1948, the family immigrated to Israel. My father was drafted to fight in the War of Independence right away. Soon after his arrival, my grandfather opened a grocery store in Ramat Gan, a city near Tel Aviv. In the course of a dispute, a neighbor killed him. His murderer—also a Holocaust survivor—was apparently insane. A few years later, his widow was run down by a bus. These events strongly traumatized my father. In addition to that, he could not afford to study, since he had to earn money. He decided to change his profession every seven years. That was his way to cope with the distress. He used to say, “I do not want to live one life, but many!” I suppose that was his way to compensate for the inhuman circumstances he endured during the war. He started as an electrician. Later on, he owned a canteen at a swimming pool in Tel Aviv. Then, he was a distributor of cigarettes, and continued on to real estate. In some of his occupations he was more successful than in others, which had direct consequences on our standard of living. So during my childhood, there were times when we could afford a holiday in Europe, and at other times we did not have money to buy new shoes. My parents got married in 1958. It was a second marriage for both of them, and neither of them had children from their first marriages. Our family is secular. My mother lights candles on Shabbat out of a sense of tradition. My father used to work on Shabbat as well. Nevertheless, he was connected to Jewish tradition and fasted on Yom Kippur and spoke Kaddish, the Jewish prayer of mourning, for his parents every year.

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My Own Story I was born in 1967 as the youngest of three children. During my childhood, I often ditched school, and my parents would always write an excuse for me. Although I did have asthma and was not a strong child, my family blew my medical issues out of proportion. In any case, I did not consider school a fun place. So I stayed at home often. If I had not prepared my homework, my mum would write excuses to the teacher. I think that she did that because she had lost her parents at a very young age. As a consequence, she wanted her children to do only what they wanted to. My parents’ past preoccupied me very much, even though they did not speak about it. As a child, I had a lot of anxieties; therefore, I did not like going out and also wanted my parents to stay at home at night. I felt safe at home. I asked myself questions such as, “Had I lived during the Holocaust, would I have survived?” I am afraid the answer was always “No.” I also felt a lot of guilt every time I would let my parents down or make them unhappy. I compared any kind of frustration I experienced to the suffering of my parents. During our trips to Bad Reichenhall in Germany, where my mother received health treatment, I also felt the impact of the Shoah. Although I liked it very much there, I felt how anxious my parents were in Germany. They tried to avoid any frictions with the staff at the spa. Many years later, my wife once told me, “The difference between you and me is that I am living, while you are in survival mode.” I think that there is something to it. But I also see the positive side of it: I appreciate many things that other people take for granted. From 1986 until 1988, I did my army service in a computer unit. It was there that I started writing, and I never stopped since then. After my release, I moved to Tel Aviv and started to study philosophy, computer science, and mathematics. It upset my parents very much that I did not finish my studies. They considered an academic title to be a survival tool. Luckily, I became a professor without having to do a PhD, because at my university, the Ben-Gurion University of the Negev in Beer Sheva, there are a few positions for professionals—and they seem to consider a writer a professional. My books have been published in Europe since the 1990s. That is when I also started to visit Europe on a regular basis. At the beginning, I gave many lectures in Germany. I also spent a few months as a guest professor at the Freie Universität Berlin. Later on, my books brought me to Poland, Italy, and France. I got married in 2001. Our son is twelve years old. We are a very political family, with the opinions of all three of us somewhere in the realm of the social-liberal left. One of our regular family activities besides going to the beach or to museums is to participate in political and social demonstrations.

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Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? The truth is, I have never tried to define antisemitism before. In my mind it is a special kind of racism. I think there is something about the term antisemitism that implies that there might be a “hierarchy of racism,” as if the Jews were in the business class of being hated. True, Jews have been hated for many more years than most other groups. I think that the difference between antisemitism and racism against people of color, for instance, is that you can’t always tell who is a Jew. Therefore, it can easily happen that someone tells a distasteful antisemitic joke to a Jew. It is improbable that something similar would happen to a person of color. In that sense, antisemitism reminds me of homophobia. Jews and homosexuals are minority groups that cannot be recognized automatically. That does not apply to Orthodox Jews, who are outwardly recognizable by their way of dressing—for example, the yarmulkes. I refer to secular Jews. Antisemites hate Jews, and at the same time they attribute almost magic powers to them. In my eyes, this combination of two basically contradictory attitudes makes this kind of racism unique. Examples from Poland come to my mind. Since I wrote a lot about the history of my family, I have a special connection to this country. Isn’t it historical irony that I—the son of Jews who have been persecuted in Poland—now have some kind of special status there? On Wikipedia I am even described as an Israeli-Polish writer. I haven’t encountered a lot of open antisemitism in Poland, but a lot of exaggerated and unnatural love or admiration for Jews. I find that not less scary than antisemitism. When I visited that country the first time in 2000, I drank alcohol with my host. The man had made an effort to bring kosher Vodka. He explained to me in all seriousness that the Jews have some special process of making vodka kosher that saves you from hangovers. A year after that I was making a documentary film that was supposed to fight antisemitism, together with a famous Polish singer, a professing Catholic. We went to the extermination camp Treblinka together. Later on she visited Israel. In one of our interviews, she mentioned the fact that her children went to a Jewish school. When we finished shooting, I asked her, “Why?” She answered, “I want them to be as smart as the Jews.” These and many other examples show me that many Poles consider Jews to be admirable and at the same time perceive them as being somehow different. Part of that concept is the prejudice that Jews are rich and more ambitioned than others. I couldn’t help feeling that people were expecting me to teach them the secret of what they perceive as the mysterious success of the Jews.

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I remember a weird incident in my mother’s hometown Moshonov. She had refused for many years to visit Poland. It took me many years to convince her to accompany me on one of my visits. We met the mayor of the city, and he invited us to a restaurant. I entered the place first and saw a picture of an ugly Jew with a big beard holding a coin in his hand. I asked the host to take down the picture. He did not understand and assured me, “This is a lucky charm, so that the restaurant will earn much money.” I could not convince him that this portrayal was very inappropriate for our visit, but he insisted that this was meant as a compliment. I am distressed by the thought of being considered different from the rest of humanity because of my origin and my religion, even if this attitude is formulated in a positive context. I have the impression that this kind of mystification is part of the Polish folklore. It strikes me that antisemitism or this exaggerated admiration for Jews is particularly strong in places where people have never met a Jew. It is not as if a Jew ever helped or harmed them; they just never met one. That’s how myths are constructed in people’s minds. There are other European countries where I had borderline antisemitic experiences as well. Once, an Englishman explained to me why he was supportive of Israel: “The experiment with the State of Israel must succeed, so that the Jews do not return to Europe.” In the Arab world, there is this new antisemitism. A Palestinian writer once told me that currently Hitler’s book Mein Kampf and “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion” were very popular in Arab countries. It is interesting to observe how the old antisemitism has been exported to the new Arab world as well. There it merges with old Muslim hatred of Jews. The Arab people who have been influenced by this attitude do not differentiate between Israel and Jews. A nice Palestinian once told me, “The Holocaust was terrible. I think that the world does not really recognize it, since the number of victims is being lied about. It was not six million, maybe sixty thousand, but the Jews have been boosting the number excessively.” Statements such as this one remind me of the Catholic antisemitism present in many Polish villages. It is based on ignorance and has deep religious roots. Although I hear many declarations like that by Arabs and Palestinians, it does not apply by any means to the majority of those I meet. My perception of antisemitism has changed over the years. I related to that in my latest book, The Seven Good Years. In the past, I was very sensitive about this phenomenon. My wife, who has known me for twenty-one years, says that in every European country I visit, I discover a swastika on the wall within twenty seconds. It is true. It is as if I cannot relax until I discover a swastika. Of course, there are just lots of them, and it isn’t that difficult to find one. But these Nazi symbols upset me less than they used to. My vulnerability in this regard is less strong than it used to be. Maybe all these experiences have made me more resistant.

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What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Historically, I am a descendant of Holocaust survivors. My parents raised me with the concept that Israel is a haven for Jews who suffer from persecution. Indeed, this is true for my parents. At the time of the Holocaust, they had no refuge and were completely left to their fate. My brother who is a radical leftist rejects the idea that all Jews automatically have the right to immigrate to Israel. In his eyes, this is racism. These differing views within our family made me feel ambivalent about this issue for a long time. Today, I think that you need to differentiate between Israel and the Jews in the Diaspora. In the past, Jews had a cosmopolitan view of reality because Jews were expelled and had to flee from country to country. They did not have the same rights as the majority of the population. The situation has changed since the establishment of the State of Israel. If Jews decide to stay in Europe and not to live in Israel, they should integrate into the country they live in. The current Israeli government asks Jews in the Diaspora to back up Israel unconditionally. It is my impression that the current Israeli prime minister is staging himself as the king of all the Jews in the world. This attitude is dangerous and arrogant. Netanyahu hasn’t been elected by Diaspora Jews, after all. Thus, he forces an unpleasant situation on the Jewish communities abroad. He expects them to put their loyalty to Israel above their loyalty to the country they live in, even if they do not agree with his politics. This could increase prejudices against Jewish communities abroad and raise suspicion that they are more supportive of Israel than of their own country.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? Unfortunately, there are many reasons to criticize Israel. But there is criticism of Israel that is antisemitic. I once published an essay in the New York Times in which I wrote how much I hate the terms “pro-Israeli” and “anti-Israeli.” I do not know anybody who is pro-Swedish or anti-Swedish or pro-Italian or anti-Italian. Somehow, when it comes to Israel, many people feel obliged to position themselves. Speaking in terms of Star Wars, they must decide who is Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader, who is the good guy or the bad guy. And there is no room for any ambiguity or grey zones in the discourse—it has to be either black or white. The moral standards by which Israel is judged are not applied to other countries. It seems to me that the attitude of many Europeans toward the Israeli-Palestinian conflict reveals more about themselves. It mirrors their confrontation with their family history and self-perception in their own society. For example, I met many French citizens who declared that they are anti-

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Israel. After talking to them, I found out that basically they had problems with their country’s colonial past. They had a bad conscience because their parents or grandparents had been colonizers. They wanted to take a strong position against that. And taking a strong position against colonialism implied for them taking a strong position against Israel. On the other hand, I met many Germans who felt that they have to support Israel unconditionally. This attitude was intended as a kind of compensation for the crimes of their parents or grandparents. When it comes to Israel, people do not base their opinions on fact but on feelings and their relation to the past. I wish that people would see the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as it is and study the facts. Then perhaps they could relate to it without their own emotional baggage.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? I think our current government is the least liberal of all the governments we have had so far. It takes a racist stand against Israeli Arabs and keeps the Palestinians in the Occupied Territories without democratic rights and without the freedom of movement. On the one hand, there is no doubt in my mind that antisemites benefit from the ugly political reality of Israel today. They use the wrongdoings of the Israeli government to direct moral accusations against all Jews. On the other hand, the Israeli government automatically declares any objection to its agenda as antisemitism. I disagree when Israelis react to German criticism by saying “We do not want the Germans to preach to us after the Holocaust.” Israel must take responsibility for the Occupation and the discrimination against its Arab citizens. My parents taught me never to use the Shoah as an argument to avoid criticism.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Most of the antisemites I met were also racists. They cannot treat other groups as equal. They can be chauvinists, hate African Americans, women, or Moslems. I think that it is similar with homophobia. There are people who have very strong and dark views of homosexuality who never met a homosexual. In my mind, it is not possible to be specifically xenophobic about one minority and pluralistic toward the other. Racists might have some kind of hierarchy of hatred. For instance, they would not want their daughter to marry a Jew. But it would be even worse for them to have an Arab or Black son-in-law. In this case, the Jew would just be the lesser evil.

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Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? I was confronted with antisemitism many times. But I do think that no form of discrimination should be tolerated. It is not enough to say “I will never be a victim again.” We have to add the second half of the sentence: “and it is our responsibility to make the world a better place.” To fight antisemitism exclusively does not make the world a better place. I want to live in a society that fights racism, antisemitism, homophobia, and chauvinism at the same time. Justice is not a piece of cheese about which you can say “Give me ten ounces of justice, please.” Instinctively, I fight the same way against antisemitism and any other form of racism. It is my goal to create empathy for and curiosity about others. Literature, film, theater, and music can make an important contribution to encourage exchange and dialogue between people.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? Israel should be involved in the fight against antisemitism, but also against any form of group-related enmity, including racism in its own society. As an Israeli writer and a speaker, I try to explain our situation in all its complexity. In a scene from The Seven Good Years, I tell the story of how a missile alarm caught my wife, my son, and myself in the car. I then describe how we threw ourselves with the child on the floor and told him that we had just invented a new game, called “the family sandwich.” My criticism of Israel goes together with its existing and legitimate dilemma, which the audience can relate to emotionally and intellectually.

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13 Miri Freilich

Commemoration on the International Holocaust Remembrance Day is certainly not enough. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1954 Lodz, Poland Jerusalem, Israel 1957 Netanya, Israel Historian

The Story of My Family My mother was born in 1921 in Przystain, a small village in Poland. Unfortunately, I have little information about my grandparents. I know that they were shopkeepers in a small village in Poland. They led quite happy, normal lives, a big family with eight children. They were traditional Jews. She only finished elementary school. When my grandparents’ shop and the house of my grandparents were vandalized in 1935, my grandmother decided to protect her daughter. She sent her away to relatives in Lodz. There, the young girl learned the profession of a seamstress at the age of fourteen. When the Second World War started in 1939, she ran away from Lodz with her relatives. I do not know the details. She just told me that they met German soldiers who did not harm them. Somehow, she managed to return to her parents. My mother and her family were deported to the ghetto of Klobuzk in Poland in 1942. From there they were sent to a work camp named Langenbielau in Bielawa in southwestern Poland. From her seven siblings, only three sisters and one brother survived. They all worked as seamstresses, and that saved their lives.

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As to my father’s family, I know even less. He was born in 1912 to a Zionist family in Kovel, a city that then belonged to Poland and is part of the Ukraine today. The boy grew up with his mother, since his father had died early. His only brother emigrated in the 1930s to Palestine. His hometown was invaded by the German army in 1941; until then it had been under Soviet occupation. A Polish friend saved him. This man was also prepared to hide my father’s first wife. But she did not want to leave her father and went with him to the Kovel ghetto. Soon after their arrival, the ghetto was burned down, and many Jews perished in the synagogue. I do not know the details, but it’s a horrible story. When this massacre happened, my father was hidden in his friend’s home. But as the situation became more and more dangerous, he fled to the forest. Ironically, my father’s dark complexion helped him because nobody suspected him to be a Jew. People thought he was from Turkey. When the war ended, he moved to Lodz, where many other Jewish survivors of the Shoah had gathered. That is where my parents met and got married. They had two daughters. Our family lived in Communist Poland. When my parents applied for immigration to Israel in 1949, they did not get a permit to leave. The official explanation was that my father was needed as a dental technician. That is the reason why we moved to Israel only in 1957. Although both my parents came from religious families, they had totally abandoned Judaism after the war. In their mind, Judaism was the reason for their persecution. That is why they never went to a synagogue and never had a prayer book at home. Neither my mother nor my father talked about the Holocaust.

My Own Story I was born in Lodz in 1954; my sister, in 1949. When I was three years old, our family emigrated to Israel. I grew up in a neighborhood in Jerusalem where Jewish immigrants from many different countries, such as Morocco, Egypt, Germany, Hungary, Poland, and Romania, had settled. It was wonderful—we felt like one big family. The children would play together, the parents were friends, and the origins of our families were not an issue. On Saturdays, my mother would dress up nicely and put on her white gloves. Then we strolled around with neighbors and also played cards together. However, we had economic problems. My father, who was a dental technician, had to work very hard to provide for the family. My mother was a housewife. We never had enough money; nevertheless, I had a beautiful and happy childhood. I was a very good student and had many friends. Nobody talked about the Holocaust. The adults wanted us to believe that they had created a new world for themselves and for us.

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The situation drastically changed with the sudden death of my father; I was twelve years old at the time. My mother was widowed and suddenly forced to make a living for herself and her two daughters. In retrospect, I think that the grief triggered my mother’s deepest fears from the trauma of the Shoah. It was then that I moved to a new school, the Hebrew University Secondary School. At first, I felt like an outsider there, because all the other kids were better educated and more nicely dressed than I was. But soon I felt integrated, and, when I was sixteen, I also changed the name Miroslawa, which my parents had given me in Poland. They were afraid to give their daughter a name that sounded Jewish. I went for an Israeli one: Miri. At the age of eighteen, I went to the army. One year later, in 1973, the Yom Kippur War broke out. It was a very painful experience. Two of my high school friends were killed in combat. After the army, my relatives in the United States invited me to visit them. It was the first time I traveled abroad. In New York, I experienced a cultural shock. Israel and New York were two different worlds at the time. I was deeply impressed by the huge cars, the color TVs, and the great food. My family members were very well off—they all lived in beautiful houses. They tried to persuade me to stay, but I was very Zionist, and I returned to Israel. I started studying Biblical Studies at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, and then continued for a master’s degree there in history. At the age of twenty-six I got married. From 1982 until 1987, my husband and I moved to the United States, where I started my PhD at Columbia University in 1982. My son was born there in 1986. My daughter was born in 1990 after our return to Israel. The coming years I worked at Massuah, the International Institute for Holocaust Studies, and in 2000 I finished my PhD on the subject of “Assimilation and Polonization of Jews in Inter-War Poland.” Then I conducted a research project on the Beitar youth movement during and after the Holocaust. From 2001 until 2015, I worked as a lecturer at Beit Berl Academic College. At the same time, I also continued to conduct research that focused on the role of Jewish youth movements and women fighters in the Holocaust. Since my retirement in 2015, I have continued my research on different topics related to Polish Jewry. I participate in workshops on the topic and publish articles.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism is a negative attitude toward Jews as individuals and as a collective. For the antisemite, it does not matter if this Jewish person is religious or secular.

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I have met scholars who had antisemitic attitudes. For instance, a Polish colleague repeated again and again that Jews are a weird group, different from all other people. There was something about the Jewish issue that made his eyes sparkle. This obsession with Jews was new to me at the time. Since then I listen very carefully when people emphasize the particularities of Jews. Antisemitism is very present in Poland today. When you walk around, you see many graffiti against Jews. Then there are these dolls with a beard and a big nose representing Orthodox Jews that hold a coin in their hand. They are meant to bring wealth and good luck because Jews are connected to money. But that doesn’t make this kind of doll less antisemitic. Antisemitism has always been very present in this country, long before the Second World War. On the political level, it mostly originated from nationalists and right-wing parties. Today, this phenomenon is still prevalent in Poland, especially with the current nationalist government. Since there are hardly any Jews left in the country, the Polish discourse on antisemitism currently focuses less on Jews and more on the narrative of the country’s role in the Holocaust. The government enforced a problematic law. It states that it is punishable by jail to say that Poland took part in crimes perpetrated by Nazi Germany on its soil, specifically referring to concentration camps such as Auschwitz. Calling these camps Polish is indeed historically inaccurate, but the threat of imprisonment seems extreme, even if it was not said in all innocence. The dark side of this law is that it aims to cover up the involvement of many Polish people in the Holocaust. There were many cases of collaboration in which the local population betrayed and also killed their Jewish neighbors. The law may still be repealed or changed, but this approach mirrors the attitude of the current government toward the Second World War. It wants to emphasize only its own losses and the heroic deeds of Poles who saved Jews. I have the highest respect for these brave people, many of whom have been recognized as Righteous Gentiles by Israel. However, the official narrative is in denial of the country’s historical antisemitism and the crimes committed against Jews by the Polish long before the Holocaust. I am convinced that this country cannot come to terms with its past as long as it does not acknowledge its guilt. On the other hand, there are scholars who have gone out of their way to study the Holocaust. Many young historians are very committed to researching the Holocaust and the history of the Jews in Poland. Until the right-wing government took power, they received public funding for their research. But now their work has been endangered by budgets cuts. They are afraid that their scholarly work might be restricted.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Diaspora Jews are concerned with the question whether Israel will protect them in case antisemitism endangers their life in Europe. On a personal level,

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these thoughts do not preoccupy me. Because I grew up in Israel, I just took it for granted. Antisemitism has never been a factor in my everyday life in Israel. For me, it is just normal and natural to be Israeli. Nevertheless, there have been moments when I was grateful to live in Israel and not in Poland. For instance, in 1989, toward the end of the Communist era, I visited Poland with a group of students. It was the first time I returned there, and it was a traumatic experience. At the time, the country was going through a severe economic crisis; there was hardly any food, no toilet paper, no coffee, empty shelves in the shops. The atmosphere was dark and depressing, and people were worried about their future. When we returned home, everything—even the plane—looked bright and cheerful again.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? It depends. I criticize Poland, I criticize America, and I criticize Austria or Germany or any other country. Therefore I consider it legitimate to criticize my country as well. I do not see anything wrong with criticizing; however, it depends on its wording and its intention. I have no tolerance whatsoever for a condemnation that—explicitly or implicitly—denies Israel’s right to exist. But I fully accept criticism of the Occupation as long as it considers the positions and problems of all sides. For instance, when the German chancellor Angela Merkel publicly expresses her dissatisfaction with Israeli politics, it would never occur to me to consider her an antisemite.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? An interesting example in this context is the subject of corruption. Several Israeli politicians have been found guilty of corruption; some were even jailed for their misdeeds. Foreign media reported about these events. It would not surprise me if they strengthen antisemitic stereotypes because phrases such as “Jews love money” are present in many people’s minds anyway. The politics of the current government certainly does not raise sympathy for Israel abroad, and I do understand that.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Antisemitism is unique in the context of racism because it has always been part of European culture. At the same time, whoever hates Jews also hates other minorities. In this sense, I see a clear correlation between antisemitism and the rejection of other minorities. If I look at Poland, it does not surprise me that the country refuses to contribute to the effort of other European countries to integrate refugees from Africa or Syria. Many people in Poland are

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xenophobic. On the streets, there are almost only Poles; one hardly meets any foreign-looking people.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? Antisemitism and any form of racism are caused by an instinctive resistance against people who are different from the mainstream. This attitude not only characterizes society at large, but also families. Their role in shaping children’s outlook should not be underestimated in this context. Such is human nature. But with proper education and the right instruments, the mechanism of suspecting the “Other” can be deconstructed. Education is the only way to confront antisemitism and racism; it is the only solution.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight Against Antisemitism in Europe? The fight against antisemitism is first and foremost the responsibility of European countries; Israel can support them in facing this difficult challenge. One thing I know: if this task is to succeed, it needs continuous input and not grand gestures. All European schools should include the fight against antisemitism in particular and racism in general in their curriculum. Poland might stand out negatively in the context of antisemitism and racism, but is definitely not the only European country strongly affected by hatred of Jews and other minorities. In the United States, antisemitism exists too, but Europe must acknowledge that the phenomenon is an integral part of its history, its present, and its culture. It has not disappeared. So commemoration on the International Holocaust Remembrance Day is certainly not enough and will not solve the problem.

chapter

14 Stephanie Courouble Share

We also need to differentiate between antisemitism and antiZionism, because they have to be fought with different tools. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in Profession

1971 Paris, France Paris, France 2008 The south of Israel Researcher and historian

The Story of My Family I do not have much information about my family’s history. There are many details missing. My mother’s father was born in Transylvania on the border between Hungary and Romania. His wife and son were murdered in Auschwitz; he himself was deported to a work camp. After his liberation, he went back to Transylvania in search of his relatives and found out that they had been murdered. As a consequence, he left Romania and went first to France, and later on moved to Tunisia. There he met my grandmother. They had five children together. The family lived according to Jewish tradition. At the beginning of the 1950s, they decided to go to Israel and stayed there for a few years. My mother was born in 1953, and her two sisters were also born in Israel. They lived on a kibbutz in the north of the country. But life there was too difficult for them, so they decided to return to Tunisia, and their odyssey finally ended in France. As for many other migrants, life was difficult for them.

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In addition to that, my grandfather was marked by the trauma of the Holocaust his whole life. He never spoke about what he went through. We just knew that he had been ill when he came back from the labor camp. It was also clear to us that the memories of his first family, who had been murdered, were painful for him, so we didn’t ask any questions. The topic was taboo. Despite his trauma, he was open for reconciliation. His openness deeply impressed me when my German pen pal visited us in France. We were thirteen years old back then. We went to my grandfather’s house and were afraid that she wouldn’t be welcome there. But the old man surprised us. He welcomed her warmly, and he even wanted to talk to her in German. It was a very moving experience. With this attitude, my grandfather set an example for me. My paternal grandfather was a Frenchman. Although my father knew that his mother came from a Jewish family, he didn’t take any interest in her heritage. My parents met in Paris and worked in a company they had founded together.

My Own Story I was born in 1971 and grew up in a suburb of Paris populated by immigrants from all over the world. My mother was afraid of antisemitism because she constantly had her father’s history in mind. So she didn’t want me to show that I am Jewish. In the 1980s and 1990s, French Jews kept a low profile, which was quite normal in France at that time. Judaism did not play an important role in our home. We only observed the holiday of Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. I remember that we didn’t go to school on that day. The Jewish students did not attend school on that holiday because they fasted. It was a kind of Jewish secret between us that the others were not supposed to know. Therefore, the excuse our parents wrote us did not state the true reason for our absence. The teachers might have known, but they didn’t ask any questions. However, from the age of eighteen, I wanted to know more about Jewish religion and tradition and delved into the topic. At the beginning of the 1990s, I started studying history in Paris. The more I learned about the Holocaust, the more I wanted to find out. During my master’s studies, I specialized in the subject of Holocaust denial. I remember that at parties I told people that I was working on that subject. Nobody ever asked me whether I was Jewish. True, I do not have a Jewish name. Nevertheless, it was interesting that nobody ever dared to ask that question. A year later, in 1997, I went to Columbia University in New York for one year. There I went to a party, and I told the people that I was doing research

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on the subject of Holocaust denial. The first question was “Are you Jewish?” Americans did not have any qualms about asking such a question; for them it was not a taboo. This relaxed approach was at the same time surprising and liberating for me after my experiences in France. In the United States I felt free because I could live openly as Jew. In my home country it was not the case. After my stay in the United States, I continued my research in France, Germany, and England. I met my future husband in France in 2001. We got married in Israel in 2002. I continued my research on the topic of Holocaust denial for another year in Jerusalem. After that we returned to France, where we lived for a few years. I worked on my PhD, worked as a teacher at several Jewish schools, and held lectures at the University of Paris. After I completed my PhD in 2008, we went back to Israel with our three children. Since then we have lived in Israel, and we now have six children. Our home is religious, between modern Orthodox and liberal.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism is the diffusion of prejudices about Jews. This hatred manifests itself through either verbal or even physical violence. Personally, I have never experienced antisemitism in France, but I think that is because I was never recognizable as being Jewish. It was clear to me that I’d better not display any Jewish symbols in public. Nevertheless, I remember several examples: When I was a child, I used to wear a Star of David necklace, but later on I did not dare to do that anymore. My mother insisted that I should not read a Jewish newspaper in the subway. Although I never suffered any personal attacks, I was confronted with many stereotypes, such as “Jews are rich” and “They have the power over the media.” Once I also witnessed how a man with a kippah was insulted as a “dirty Jew.” When I was teaching at a Jewish high school in a suburb of Paris, my students told me that they were constantly being attacked verbally on their way to school. Today it is also dangerous to be recognized as a Jew in different areas of Paris. There have been several antisemitic terror attacks in France, which shocked me deeply. That is especially true for the murder of Ilan Halimi in 2006. The twenty-three-year-old Jewish man was abducted. The kidnappers thought that because he was Jewish, his family had to be rich and able to pay a ransom. So they blackmailed the family. When their plan did not work out, they tortured

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their victim to death in the most brutal way. The perpetrators were convicted, and it was stated in court that this was clearly an antisemitic crime. In 2012, a jihadist fanatic carried out a terrorist attack against a Jewish school in Toulouse. He killed the thirty-year-old Rabbi Jonathan Sandler, his two small children, and the eight-year-old daughter of the principal. I went to the funeral of the victims. These and other cases have shown me how threatening antisemitism can be even for little children today. You can be killed in France today just because of the fact that you are Jewish. This realization has changed my perception of antisemitism forever. It is my impression that the situation has even worsened since then. Today I am afraid to let my sons wear a kippah in the streets of Paris. At the same time, I want to emphasize that I do not equate these examples to the Holocaust. We should be very careful about this kind of comparison. A few months ago, an elderly Jewish woman was murdered. As soon as she had been killed, many people immediately and automatically assumed that it was an antisemitic crime. But this assumption is not proven yet. We have to wait until the justice system answers this question. Because of these many crimes I do understand that Jews in France are obsessed with antisemitism. But in order to fight the phenomenon properly, it should neither be exaggerated nor repressed. There is another issue, the concept of “new antisemitism,” which manifests itself as opposition to Zionism and the delegitimization of the State of Israel, going so far as to denying its right to exist. It is mostly attributed to Muslims, particularly Islamists. But this is not the case; it can come also from the Right, from neo-Nazis, as well as from the extreme Left. Therefore, antisemitism has to be seen as a global phenomenon. As a historian, I work intensively on the subject of Holocaust denial. Antisemites combine classical antisemitism, anti-Zionism, and Holocaust denial. Holocaust deniers pretend not to be antisemites, but their hatred of Jews is concealed behind pseudo-scientific arguments. It is their intention to incite hatred against victims of the Shoah, Jews in general, and Israel in particular. That is why they accuse all Holocaust survivors of being liars. They claim that the Jewish people created fake archives and invented fake documents to prove that the Holocaust exists, and that the Jewish State of Israel helped to create this conspiracy against Germany. That is clearly antisemitism.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? Israel gives me a sense of security. The kidnapping of Ilan Halimi, which I mentioned before, sent shock waves through the Jewish community in France.

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As a consequence, many Jews decided to go to Israel because they did not feel secure anymore. I had the same reaction. At the time we had two children. I was afraid that they might be hurt because I was raising them as Jews. So I told my husband that the time had come to return to Israel, and we left Paris. Because I am an expert on Holocaust denial, my research focuses on people filled with hatred. That can endanger me personally, and therefore I have to protect myself. In Israel I feel less threatened. Perhaps I am not cautious enough, but I have to find a middle way between my work and my personal security. Although I miss France and my family there very much, we stay in Israel. Europe and France would not be an option for me now. I think that the situation of the Jews has worsened there. Even though I do miss France a lot and also my family there, we will stay in Israel. I know that it is not a country where everything is pure happiness. The conflict with the Palestinians has a strong impact on my life too. In 2002/2003, I experienced the First Intifada, with many bomb attacks in Jerusalem. Today, I live in the south of Israel, and I am afraid of the rockets from the Gaza Strip, which many times force us into shelters. The conflict strongly influences my life. That is why I want to advance a peaceful solution with the Palestinians. I want to live in peace and security.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? This is a complex and confusing issue. Therefore, we need to differentiate between antisemitism and anti-Zionism. It is a mistake to think that they are exactly the same. Antisemitism is a prejudice against Jews, anti-Zionism is directed against the State of Israel and wants to destroy it. Everybody—including Israelis—can criticize the government of Israel. That is perfectly legitimate; it is not antisemitism and it is not even anti-Zionism. It becomes problematic when Europeans hide their prejudices against Jews behind anti-Zionism. Since antisemitism is forbidden in Germany, France, and England, and the memory of the Shoah is still important, many European antisemites turn to anti-Zionism. That is why anti-Zionism and Holocaust denial go hand in hand and use the same rhetoric. Holocaust deniers claim that Israel and the Jewish people invented the “myth” of the Shoah in order to extort money from Germany. Antisemitism and anti-Zionism blend into each other many times. For instance, the attacks against Jewish shops are often motivated by the belief that the owners automatically have a connection to Israel. Recently, I saw a picture of the door to a Jewish grocery in Paris that had been smeared with anti-Zionist graffiti. It is difficult to tell whether this was an antisemitic or anti-Zionist act or a combination of both.

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Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? With regard to the correlation between the conflict here and antisemitism, it is difficult to know. There are surveys that show that with each escalation of the conflict, antisemitism is on the rise in France. That happened during the Second Intifada in 2000, and the same thing is happening now because of the fight between Hamas and Israel. As soon as there is a problem here in Israel, the conflict is imported to Europe.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Yes, there is a correlation. When we deal with antisemitism, we also must fight any form of racism; this is our responsibility. But it is important to differentiate between different forms of group-related enmity. They are not identical and cannot be fought in the same way.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? The fight against antisemitism is very important in France. Of course there are radical Islamists in France, but we should not believe that they are the only source of antisemitism in France today. The Jewish community in France is becoming more and more anti-Muslim, which is very dangerous for shared living. In my opinion, civil society has an important role to play in this context. An interesting example in this regard is a project founded in 2003: The Bus of Friendship (https://www.dw.com/en/in-france-a-rabbi-an-imam-and-aninterfaith-friendship-bus/a-18547290). A rabbi and an imam have joined forces to fight against prejudices against Muslims and Jewish people. They travel around in a bus and do not avoid neighborhoods with a lot of social tension. Their goal is to inform people about Islam and Judaism. They set an example that Jews and Muslims can be friends and even fight stereotypes together. And the people come and listen to them. And when young Muslims refused to talk to the rabbi, his answer surprised them: “Now I want to talk to your parents. Please come with your mother and we will visit the synagogue together.” And that is how Muslim families visited Jewish houses of prayer together with the imam. The visitors learned about Jewish religion, and they had meals together. This project has been running for over ten years, and it has worked well in both directions. This is very important. We can organize many conferences and write many books about antisemitism, but if we do not deal with the grass roots, it won’t work. That is why it is important to me to provide European educators with tools for fighting Holocaust denial in their classes. Surprisingly, French researchers are just be-

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ginning to deal with Holocaust denial as if until now the problem had not existed. I would like to point out that we also need to differentiate between antisemitism and anti-Zionism, because they have to be fought with different tools. Confusing the two issues is dangerous. Antisemitism can be addressed by deconstructing negative stereotypes such as “all Jews are rich and control the media.” If we want to deal with anti-Zionism, we need to explain Israel’s existential fight as the Jewish state. And we also need to talk about the fact that Israel has been legitimized by the United Nations.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? It happened that Israeli politicians used the subject of antisemitism to convince French Jews to come to Israel. For instance, when Prime Minister Netanyahu visited France last year, he clearly wanted to push French Jews to come to Israel by telling them “In Israel you will be safe!” In my mind, this attitude is manipulative and counterproductive. He was exaggerating the danger for his own political purposes. However, Israel has a constructive role to play in the fight against antisemitism in Europe. Israeli experts and research institutes have been working on that subject for a long time already; there are several good projects. For example, Israel has initiated the Global Forum for Combating Antisemitism. These initiatives play an important role in the fight against antisemitism.

chapter

15 Daniel Shek

Antisemitism: I am still against it! Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1955 Jerusalem, Israel London, Paris, Jerusalem, and Vienna Tel Aviv, Israel Former diplomat, consultant

The Story of My Family Both my parents were born in Czechoslovakia. My father was born in 1920 in a small town in Moravia called Olomouc (Olmütz); he came from an Orthodox family with six siblings. He used to say jokingly that he left the Jewish religion for his love of Zionism and football. I do not actually know how he came to be a Zionist. I just know that he left Olomouc, moved to Prague, and became an activist in a Zionist youth movement there. My mother came from a different background. She was born in Prague in 1927 to a mixed couple— mixed in two ways: her mother was a non-Jewish Austrian who was born in Vienna and immigrated to Prague; her father was a Czech Jew. A quite typical Prague-intellectual-assimilated Jewish family. So she grew up with very little Jewish background. They met in Prague after the Nazis came to power in 1939. Since my mother was forbidden to go to school, she went to the same Zionist youth movement where my father was active as an instructor. They were sent to Ghetto Theresienstadt, both in July 1943, but separately. There, my parents got married secretly in a symbolic way, but were separated soon after, in 1944. This happened when my father discovered that his mother was on the list of those being sent to Auschwitz, and he volunteered to be deported alongside her. He instructed his wife to record everything that was

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happening around her in the ghetto. From then on, she wrote a diary and documented what she saw until her liberation. My father was sent on from the ghetto and was finally liberated in Auschwitz. After the end of the war, they met again in Prague and married formally. My father had lost practically his whole family. Only his half-sister survived the Holocaust. My mother lost both her father and her sister. So she was left with just her mother. My father’s Zionist aspirations had not changed during the war. He came to Israel in 1946, and my mother followed in 1947. They settled in Palestine, which was to become the State of Israel in 1948. My father was recruited to the Israeli Foreign Ministry. With time, he became one of the most prominent first-generation diplomats of Israel. It was a common procedure at the time to post diplomats in their countries of origin because they knew the language and they had connections. That is why my father was sent to Prague. As with other early-day Israeli diplomats, his role was to encourage Aliyah, meaning immigration to Israel. The couple’s first daughter was born there. But, in 1952, they returned to Israel, because the diplomatic relations between Israel and Czechoslovakia were broken due to the Slansky trials. After a stint in Jerusalem, my father was then posted to London, Paris, and Vienna. In the 1970s, he was ambassador in Rome, where he suddenly died at the age of fifty-seven. My mother returned to Israel. She lived in the city of Caesarea until she died in 2007 at the age of seventy-nine. Throughout most of these years, she volunteered at Beit Terezin, the Beit Theresienstadt Memorial (https://bterezin.org.il/en/), until almost the last day of her life. Both my parents were among the founders of this memorial. Our home was secular, but since my father had a broad knowledge of religion and deep roots in the Jewish way of life, he maintained certain traditions. He was particularly attached to rituals with a strong family dimension, such as traditional Friday night family dinner including Kiddush and the Passover Seder (Feast on the first night of Passover, centered around the retelling of the biblical story of the Jewish people being freed from slavery in Egypt). But we did not keep the religious dietary laws or Shabbat. As for me, I would say that I am somewhat attached to tradition, but not in a religious manner. As a diplomat, I spent many hours in a synagogue and cannot say I did not enjoy some of it, but outside of my professional obligations I hardly ever go.

My Own Story I was born in Jerusalem in 1955. I left Israel at the age of nine months for the first time, and actually only returned when I was eight. So you could, for all practical purposes, say that I

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made Aliyah at the age of eight. Due to my father’s work, I traveled a lot in my childhood and youth, for better and for worse. At the age of sixteen, I had lived in four different countries and spoke four different languages. In 1971, I returned to Israel after four years in Vienna—that was really the first time that I solidly settled in Israel. I graduated from high school in Jerusalem and did my army service in the Intelligence. I then studied history and French literature, although I certainly did not feel I was going to become a historian. I still had no idea what I was going to do with myself. I took on a job as a translator for Israeli television; then I became an editor of foreign affairs for the news. I worked there for a few years and at the time married my first wife. Then, a friend who worked at the Embassy of Israel in Belgium offered me a job there in Brussels. Although it had not been my intention to work as a diplomat, I took on the job, and we moved to Europe for a year. We returned to Israel and settled down in Tel Aviv. In 1984, I followed in my father’s footsteps and joined the Foreign Ministry. From that time on, I started my own diplomatic career. My first son was born in the same year. In 1985, we moved to Jerusalem, and I started a cadet course, which is the internal training process that takes two years. In 1989, our second son was born. My first foreign posting was to Paris in 1990 as a press counselor and spokesperson, where I stayed four years. Then, I returned for three years to Israel as a spokesperson of the Foreign Ministry. In 1997, I discovered the United States, where I had several assignments, the last being Consul General for the Pacific Northwest region in San Francisco. In 2000, I returned to Israel as the head of the European Division in the Foreign Ministry. Throughout my whole diplomatic career, I specialized in working with the media and public diplomacy. I took a break from the Foreign Ministry and worked in London for a pro-Israel NGO called BICOM, the Britain-Israel Communications and Research Center. Two years later, then Israeli foreign minister Tzipi Livni offered me the ambassadorship in Paris. So, from 2006 to 2010, I became Israeli ambassador to France. That was my last diplomatic post. I decided to retire from the Foreign Ministry, because I no longer felt comfortable with the government and its policy. Since I really, really loved my profession, I thought that time had come to leave. I was fifty-five years old at the time; it was still a reasonable age to start a new beginning. That was also true for my personal life. I got divorced and since then live together with my current partner in Tel Aviv. I built a puzzle of different professional activities—some of them I do for a living and others just for my pleasure. I teach, I am a consultant for a variety of

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projects, I give lectures, I am a regular commentator on a television channel, I write restaurant reviews—all sorts of eclectic things. I am also involved in a number of nonprofit projects and political activities.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? It is a very challenging question. The best short definition I can think of: “criticizing Jews not for what they do, but for what they are—that is antisemitism.” In my mind this formula also works with regard to criticism of Israel. It is legitimate to criticize Israel for what it does or what its government does. But if criticism is directed against the essence of Israel as the Jewish state and the homeland of the Jewish people, it becomes antisemitic. In general, my experiences with antisemitism were of a professional, not personal, nature. In my private life, I did not have any antisemitic experiences. I do not remember anything of that sort from my childhood, but I have only vague memories of that time. I cannot tell you that I have never heard with my own ears an antisemitic remark, but it was usually nothing really shocking. With official representatives, people usually keep their thoughts to themselves and speak cautiously, unless it is their explicit intention to offend an Israeli ambassador. So, when I was an Israeli diplomat, people were usually careful. However, I was confronted with antisemitic incidents in my work. For instance, when I came to Paris in 1990, thirty-four graves in the Jewish cemetery of the city of Carpentras were desecrated, and a corpse was mutilated. This event brought thousands of people to the streets of Paris, and President Mitterrand joined them. As I remember this crime, it saddens me how common and banal this kind of attack against Jews has become today. I spent nine years in France altogether. In this time, I had to deal with many antisemitic episodes. I was confronted with Jean-Marie Le Pen, at the time the leader of the right-wing Populist Party National Front (Front National). Although most of the time he tried to be cautious, Le Pen sometimes could not hide his antisemitism—it was just too powerful for him to resist. For example, on several occasions, he publicly referred to the gas chambers as “a small detail” in the history of the Second World War, creating an outrage in France that resulted in lawsuits and convictions. In the last decade, antisemitism has mutated in France to become mostly a Muslim-Jewish problem rather than sort of “good old” Christian-nationalist antisemitism, although that exists too.

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Antisemitism accompanies you throughout the job as a representative of the State of Israel. It is very present when you talk to members of the Jewish community in France. In the 1990s, antisemitic movements rose in Eastern Europe—for example, in Poland and Hungary. In Austria, Jörg Haider, the leader of the right-wing Freedom Party, became a member of the government in 1999. As a result, Israel downgraded its relations with Austria, because the man was considered an antisemite. As the head of the European Division in the Foreign Ministry, I was involved in this decision. Antisemitism is very deeply rooted in European culture. There is a certain kind of antisemitism that does not even mean to be nasty—it is part of everyday culture to use certain expressions, such as of the word “youpin,” which, apart from being the hurtful version of “Jew,” is used to describe a person who is stingy, avaricious—regardless of whether that individual is Jewish or not. I am not saying that this is ok. I am just aware that this use of language shows that even people who do not consciously intend to be antisemitic may use themes and vocabulary that to a Jewish ear—a sensitive ear—are clearly rooted in antisemitism. Then there are the openly convinced antisemites. But again, those would be very careful to express themselves in the presence of the Israeli ambassador. Unfortunately, antisemitic crimes have become more common and can even culminate in murder. The fact that there are more antisemitic incidents does not imply that French society is more prepared to accept them. Having said that, many French Jews feel more threatened than in the past. In my mind, this is the outcome of the fact that France is home to the largest Jewish and Muslim communities in Europe. That creates an area of friction between these two communities. In the last years, antisemitic incidents have mostly been perpetrated by Muslims, although there are attacks against Jews by skinheads, ultra-Right, or ultra-Catholic groups. Certain parts of the greater Paris area where Jews used to live are mostly populated by Muslims today. The Jews were afraid and left those suburbs. Many Jews in France, even the most assimilated people who are very well integrated in French society, told me that they feel uncomfortable. Sometimes, there are demonstrations on the streets of Paris that have nothing to do with Islam or with Judaism. They can be about general subjects that bring out young people to the streets, and suddenly they shout “Death to the Jews!” At that moment, you know that there is a problem. But the French Republic, its legal and political system and its civil society, do not accept it. In France, you can be jailed because of hate speech, and not only in theory. But more important than that: antisemitism—for the majority of the French elite for sure, and I believe also for a large majority of the general public—is still unacceptable. Will that always be the case?

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I am not sure. Europe is in a crisis today and identity policy plays an important role in this context. Democratic institutions could be weakened. As a consequence, aggressions are released, which always have an antisemitic dimension. When these things happen, many people rightly feel that antisemitism and nationalism are on the rise all across Europe. But I want to emphasize again that, in France, antisemitism is not acceptable for the majority of the elite, and I believe also for most people in general. That has not always been the case, but the republic has done a good job in the fight against antisemitism. Many politicians, including President Emmanuel Macron, have publicly expressed their concerns that Jews do not feel safe in France any longer and emigrate to Israel. France has one prominent far-right-wing party, the National Front (Front National), which established itself well in French politics, although it was still safe with a glass ceiling, especially as long as Jean-Marie Le Pen was the leader of the party. It is not a neo-Nazi-party; it is not even an openly antisemitic party, because antisemitism is not part of its declared ideology. But there are clearly antisemitic elements within the party, and some of its most prominent representatives, including Jean-Marie Le Pen, make use of antisemitic motifs, including jokes and wisecracks about death camps and Jews in general. So, the Jewish establishment refused to have anything to do with them, and as a general rule the State of Israel, too. But there were a few instances when the Israeli political establishment was prepared to reach out to these far-right political forces. Why? Because very often, they are antisemitic and at the same time very supportive of the State of Israel. What they want from Israel is an official seal of approval—because if the State of the Jews gives them legitimacy, how could they be antisemites? And that is why—as long as I was in a position to influence that decision—I stood up against any temptation to build bridges with these people. I said “We do not have the moral right—as long as the local Jewish community feels threatened by these people—we have no right to go over their heads and give them the legitimacy.” With the Front National we actually stuck to that policy for many years. Had Marine Le Pen, the current leader of the party, said, “I know my father did terrible things. I know that there are antisemites in my party, but I reject them. I am prepared to cooperate with Israel in order to find a way to rebuild our relations,” then I would have been prepared to give it a try on condition that these words would have been followed by deeds. However, Marine Le Pen was looking for political rapprochement to Israel without making any commitment. I already referred to hatred of Jews in the Muslim community. In addition, there is also resurgence of the good old nationalistic, right-wing antisemitism in Europe, which you can see in countries where there is no Muslim community, such as Hungary or Poland.

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Talking about these issues reminds me of an anecdote with Woody Allen. When I was ambassador in Paris, I went to see one of his movies. After the screening, a young lady in the audience asked the director a lengthy question about his attitude toward death. She went on and on. Allen nodded, and when she was finished, his brief answer was: “You know, I never changed my mind about death. I am still against it.” That is exactly how I feel about antisemitism: I am still against it!

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? I was born here, and Israel is part of me. It is the place where I feel most at home. Although I could live anywhere, I will probably always come back here. I feel very connected to this place. I feel safe in Israel. I realize that what I am saying is irrational, because Israel is probably the most dangerous place for Jews on Earth. From a historical point of view, it creates security because it stands for continuity. For Jews, this country is a homeland. Today, there is an alternative to the Jewish experience in the Diaspora to which many generations of Jews have been subjected: “We have a good life now in Poland, France, Germany, wherever, but who knows? Maybe the government will change, maybe the time will change and they will not like us anymore and we will have to move to other places.” In Israel, you do not carry this feeling within yourself any longer. I certainly do have many question marks about Israeli society and politics. But if I take a big step back and a big zoom out—the fact that I do not like what is happening does not mean that I have changed my mind about the historical role of the State of Israel. Why? Maybe because I am an optimist. Although I think that Israel is going in a very bad direction, I believe that things will sort themselves out somehow. I hope that I will still see better days for this country in my lifetime. From my perspective as a diplomat, Israel’s role for the Jewish communities in the Diaspora is an important factor. I have worked in the three largest Jewish communities in the Western world—in the United States, in the United Kingdom, and in France. They are different from each other in their perception of Israel. For different reasons, the French Jewish community is by far the most Zionist and the most connected to Israel: the current French Jewish community is made up of relatively recent immigrants themselves, so they do not have very deep roots in France. Most of them are first- or second-generation immigrants from North Africa. They do not have a deep attachment to France, unlike the British Jews, who have lived there for generations. All Jewish schools, including the religious ones, have a Zionist orientation. They celebrate the Israeli Independence Day just as they celebrate the Jewish

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New Year. They attach the same importance to both events. They not only study biblical Hebrew for prayers, but also the modern everyday language. For all these reasons, the French Jewish community is the most stable source of immigration to Israel from the Western world.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? I am much more relaxed than most Israelis and many French Jews about criticism of Israel. I do not feel uncomfortable with people criticizing Israel, as long as they focus on specific issues such as the Occupation of the Palestinian Territories. Usually I am fine in dealing with it. Sometimes we deserve criticism, just like any other country and any other government in the world. We are not perfect—far from that. I start to worry when somebody asks me, “What right do you have to exist? What right do you have to establish a state based on a religious basis?” That is an antisemitic statement. French Jews are very frustrated with the media coverage of Israel. They do not always know how to respond to such criticism and feel isolated in this fight. I also think that there is some paranoia in Jewish pro-Israel circles who feel that every negative headline in the newspaper is an existential catastrophe for Israel. I believe that the main enemy of Israel in public opinion is ignorance, not hatred. I have met thousands of journalists from all over the world, and very few were hateful. But many have preconceived ideas, and they over-simplify, simply because they do not know enough. They come to Israel for a three-day visit, and after twenty-four hours they know everything, they understand everything, they have all the solutions for the Middle-East Conflict.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? This is a difficult question, because reality is very complex. There are radical left-wing Jewish circles who claim that the main source of antisemitism in Europe today is the State of Israel and its behavior toward the Palestinians. They think that without the Occupation there would be no antisemitism. I think this theory is nonsense: it is just as absurd as holding every Jew in France responsible for Israel’s actions. Jews are attacked because of the policy of the Israeli government. People are unhappy with the Israeli government, so they take it out on the Jewish neighbor going to synagogue. They do not care that he is not Israeli and perhaps has never set foot in Israel. Again and again, Jews are accused of double loyalty. These old ugly questions are heard again: “These Jews—on which side are they exactly, France or Israel? Can they be trusted?”

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Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Yes, absolutely. In many countries, we witness a resurgence of xenophobia, nationalism, and racism. It is very simple: behind every xenophobe, every racist, there is an antisemite. And the fact that European racists today are more hateful against Muslims than against Jews does not mean that they are not antisemites. And Jews will also end up suffering from it.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? Fighting is probably not the right word. It is naive to think that antisemitism could be eradicated. In the same way, neither crime nor racism nor terrorism will ever disappear. But it does not mean that we can allow ourselves to sit back and do nothing about it. I think that it is very important to take action against antisemitism, especially in countries with a large Jewish community.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? In its relations with European countries, the State of Israel has the responsibility to include educational projects dealing with antisemitism and the remembrance of the Holocaust as a top priority in its agenda. There is also the question of legislation against antisemitism, combined with law enforcement. Some countries, such as Germany and France, are prepared to confront their history. This was not always the case in France. After the war, De Gaulle, and to a certain extent Mitterrand, created the myth that all the French had fought against the National Socialists in the Resistance. Everybody had fought the Nazis. The Vichy Government, which collaborated with the German occupiers? Not part of us. It was sort of a bubble in their history—they would rather cut it out. Jacques Chirac was the first president who took responsibility for French collaboration with the German occupiers. He said, “We must face our history, and Vichy is an integral part of it.” States that have gone through that process of acknowledgment accept that the Holocaust and antisemitism become an integral part of their dialogue with Israel through institutions such as the World Holocaust Remembrance Center Yad Vashem and the Ministry of Education. There is a correlation between the fact that the Holocaust is moving further and further away and the growing danger of antisemitism. The Holocaust is the tragic culmination of antisemitism, but hatred of Jews existed before: there were pogroms and antisemitic theories and writings; there were ghettos. Antisemitism did not start in 1933, and in France it did not start with the German occupation. It would be simplifying to reduce the problem to the remembrance

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of the Holocaust. At the same time, learning about the Shoah shows young people what terrible consequences hatred can have. I do not know what the thinning memory of the Shoah will do to antisemitism. Will it make it more presentable, easier to sell, because it will no longer be connected so strongly to this unanimously condemned tragedy? It will necessitate a change in the approach to how you talk about the Holocaust and how you teach it, how you educate about it. I do not know the answers, but I am sure that we cannot use the same tools in 2030 as in 1980.

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16 Bernadett Alpern

I would not like to raise my child in Hungary. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1987 Budapest, Hungary Budapest, Hungary 2015 Tel Aviv, Israel Photographer

The Story of My Family The father of my father was born in a small Hungarian town called Sárbogár; my grandmother is from Budapest. Both of them were raised in nonreligious Jewish families. My grandparents met in Budapest when my grandfather was studying there. That was a few years before the outbreak of the war. In 1944, my grandfather was deported by the Germans to Russia—I do not know the name of the place—together with his father and his uncle. There, they were forced to remove the bombs from the fields, and that’s how my great-grandfather and his brother were killed. Somehow my grandfather managed to escape and got back to Budapest. When the German army (the Wehrmacht) occupied Budapest in March 1944, my grandmother was imprisoned in the Jewish ghetto of the city. She was supposed to be deported to Auschwitz, but she and her mother arrived at the train when it was already full, and the soldier sent them away. So she took down the yellow Star of David from her collar, and the two women managed to escape from the ghetto. After the war, she reunited with my grandfather and married him. I do not know exactly what they did at that time. Hungarians had to adjust to the

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official political doctrine after the Communist Party had established a dictatorship in 1949. It forced people to adopt the ideology of collectivism and distance themselves from religion. Therefore, my grandparents tried to obliterate their Jewish origins, especially my grandfather, who was traumatized by the war. He wanted to forget. The couple never talked about it, never celebrated Jewish holidays, and did not have any ritual objects at home. My grandfather was traumatized for the rest of his life. He just wanted to forget the terrible experiences and was terrified that the Holocaust could repeat itself. He had a great fear of antisemitism. Therefore, he never accepted any higher position. He always wanted to stay in the background. It went so far that he secretly changed our Jewish-sounding family name “Alpern” to the Hungarian “Alapi.” He asked his son to sign a paper, and my father did without noticing what it was all about. Then my mother received my younger sister’s birth certificate, and she was surprised to see the new name. Suddenly we were all Alapi. Later on, my father changed the name back to Alpern. When my grandmother was widowed, she returned to Judaism, which secretly she had never completely abandoned. I found out that she actually knew how to pray in Hebrew because I discovered a prayer book after her death. It was perhaps even more surprising that she asked her son to recite the prayer for the deceased, the Kaddish. My father did not fulfill her wish because praying was not meaningful to him. As a consequence, she prayed herself until the last day of her life. My father was born in 1954. He is a dog breeder and lives in the countryside today. He was married twice. He did not mind that his first wedding was held in a church, since Judaism did not mean anything to him. It is interesting, however, that he did not agree to baptize his two daughters from that marriage. My mother was born in 1968 to Catholic parents. She is half Croatian and half Serbian, but both sides of the family had been living in Hungary for many generations. As with my father’s Jewish family, my maternal family was not connected to religion, due to the Communist pressure. She was sixteen when she met my father, and they got married three years later. In our family, the issue of religious rituals didn’t even come up. We just lived a completely secular life.

My Own Story I was born in 1987 and grew up in Budapest. I did not have any Jewish identity; Judaism did not interest me. When I was a little girl, my father told me that we are Jewish, but he warned me not to reveal the secret to anybody, and I obeyed him. This changed when my grandmother died. All of a sudden, I wanted to know all the details of my grandpar-

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ents’ story, but nobody could answer my question. My aunt and my father just had no information. From a very early age, I wanted to be a photographer. After school, I studied photojournalism in the city of Kaposvár. I then studied one semester in Denmark, then in England for one year. In 2010, I did an internship at Haifa University because I wanted to reconnect to my Jewish roots. But this expectation was not fulfilled at that time. Israeli reality hit me unpleasantly when I talked to my Arab friends, who felt discriminated against. I returned to Hungary in 2011 and did not intend to come back to Israel again. I finished my studies in 2012. Then, I started to work as an art photographer focusing on Jewish issues. I cooperated with an Israeli journalist who lived in Hungary, and we had several exhibitions. In one of our projects, we documented people who had found out only as young adults that they were Jewish. This exhibition meant a lot to me because it was inspired by my own biography. For another exhibition, we were looking for synagogues that had been destroyed and were not used any more as Jewish houses of prayer (https://bernadettalpern.tumblr.com/usedstones). I started my research because I wanted to find my grandfather’s family house in Sárbogár, where he was born. In this city, I found the synagogue, which today is used as a secondhand furniture store. It was the beginning of my journey to Europe; I visited Jewish communities and listened to many personal stories. In hindsight, it was my personal journey to my Jewish roots. I recited my first Shabbat prayer in the Polish city of Poznań. I was looking for the key to the synagogue. The members of the Jewish community told me that they would give it to me only on the condition that I would pray with them on Shabbat. It was a very important experience for me and for them, too, I think. The synagogue exhibition was shown all over Europe. I received a lot of positive feedback and media attention. In 2015, I was invited to hold the exhibition in Haifa, and I attended the opening. After one week, I suddenly realized that I wanted to stay in Israel. It was a very dramatic and quick decision. I returned to Budapest, packed up, and immigrated to Israel. Very soon after, I met my future husband. That happened only three years ago, and today we have a beautiful two-year-old daughter. We live in Tel Aviv, and I work as a photographer.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? Antisemitism is discrimination against the Jewish people as a collective and also against individual Jews.

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As long as I lived in Europe, I do not remember any experience that was directed against me personally. I always felt cosmopolitan there. People always thought that I was local, no matter if it was in Paris, Tel Aviv, or Budapest. So I did not experience antisemitism on my skin. But then again, as I already pointed out, our Jewish origin was a well-kept family secret. Only when I came to Israel, I realized that most of my friends in Budapest were also Jewish. Like me, they had just never talked about it. Since we met in galleries and in cafes and not in the synagogue, it just wasn’t an issue. Therefore, I was shocked when people in Israel immediately asked me if I was Jewish. In Europe such a question would be impolite. However, my research for the project did confront me directly with antisemitism. For example, at the synagogue in the Hungarian town Szigetvár, which had been turned into a library, the office of the director of the place was filled with Nazi symbols. I was so horrified that I ran away. In general, I am less concerned with antisemitism than in the past, because I live in Israel. But when I visit Hungary today, it is more on my mind. There I am confronted with the subject through stories I hear, but also through my own experiences.

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? My spontaneous reaction was to answer “none.” But when I think more deeply about this question, I understand that Israel gives me security. My daughter’s birth made me realize it. I want to stay in Israel and to raise my child here. I would never return to Hungary with my Israeli baby and my Israeli husband, simply because I am afraid of antisemitism there. When I visited Budapest a few months ago, I took a cab. The driver was very nice. I told him that we live abroad. He then asked where we came from. When he heard that it was Israel, he suddenly stopped talking to me. I experienced a similar situation a few times. I was surprised by the negative reactions when I told people that I live in Israel. Therefore, I stopped telling strangers in Budapest that we live in Israel. Perhaps because it is not only about me anymore. I have to protect my baby. The situation in Hungary has changed since I left. Maybe the problem is blown up in the media—I do not know. I believe that Hungary has become much more racist under the Orbán regime; his policy looks very scary to me. I would not raise my child in Hungary.

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? It depends on the criticism. There are many things to be criticized about Israel. But it depends how the criticism is formulated and with what intention.

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Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? Sometimes I do see a correlation, but it is not automatically the case. I think the media many times give a distorted picture of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. For example, I know that English people are very critical of Israel. When I watch the BBC, its biased coverage of Israel strikes me again and again. No matter what happens, the Israeli side is always presented as the only guilty one. At the same time, I believe that the government should be more liberal and look for a peaceful solution with the Palestinians. Perhaps that would create a more positive perception of Israel in Europe, but I am not sure about it.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? In Hungary, there is a clear correlation between antisemitism and antigypsyism. Antisemitic Hungarians hate Sinti and Roma as much as—if not more than—they hate Jews. They also hate gay people. In Budapest, the Gay Parade had to be protected by a fence against violence. The Hungarian government is stirring up hatred. Prime Minister Orbán incited hatred against refugees and also against the EU. During the election, they put up huge billboards with a lot of blurred people of color in the background and a stop sign. To me, this is inhuman and frightening. But unfortunately, this does not only happen in Hungary. Austria and Poland, for instance, are also heading in a similar direction.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? We should all fight against antisemitism and any form of racism. We must look for what connects us and not what separates us. For instance, I combine my Jewish and my Christian heritage in my everyday life. Even today, I recite the prayer that my Catholic grandmother taught me in my childhood. When I am in a church and I light candles, I do that for both, my Jewish and my Christian grandparents. I believe that God will listen to me. At the same time, I also fast on Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. My photographic work is my personal way to fight against antisemitism. I believe that art can contribute to change the world for the better. If my pictures touch people’s hearts, then I made a contribution. Since I have a child, I put my hope in the young generation. It is our duty to educate our children to respect others, regardless of their origin or way of life. We cannot change the past anymore, but we should try to shape the future.

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Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? I do not have an opinion on this issue. I can just talk about my personal experience and ways to tackle the issue of antisemitism.

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17 Lydia Aisenberg

For the first time in my life I do not know how to fight antisemitism and racism. Year of birth: Born in: Grew up in: In Israel since: Currently lives in: Occupation:

1946 Birmingham, Great Britain Wales, Great Britain 1966 Kibbutz Mishmar Ha’emek Informal educator and freelance journalist

The Story of My Family My fathers’ parents were originally from Poland. They arrived in England at the beginning of the twentieth century, on their way to the United States. When the ship docked in England, they were told that they had arrived in America. Since they were poor, they did not have the means to continue their journey. The British immigration authorities sent them to Wales, and my grandparents ended up in Ystrad Mynach in the south of the country. They were religious Jews who came from the shtetl and did not speak English. They brought three children with them, and another four—including my father—were born in Wales. My grandfather started to work in a furniture factory, but later opened his own business. I remember him standing there with the kippah on his head talking to the clients in his heavy accented English. My mother’s father had a Polish and Russian background. I know very little about this side of the family, not even when he came to England. He met his future wife in Birmingham. She was a British Jew, very patriotic and an English lady. My grandfather invented a cigarette lighter, which turned him into a

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wealthy man. The family went to synagogue on a regular basis and considered themselves traditional Jews. My father was born in Wales in 1912. After finishing high school, he went to work with his father and his brothers. They opened furniture shops in different coal-mining towns; my father and another brother started a business in Caerphilly, South Wales, and settled down there. My mother was born in 1922 in Birmingham and grew up there. I have very little information about her, and I also do not know how or when my parents met. They got married in Cardiff, Wales, in 1941. Nine years later, my mother died at the age of twenty-eight from polio.

My Own Story I was born in 1946 in Birmingham, where my maternal grandparents lived. A few weeks after my birth, my mother returned to Wales with me. When my mother died, my brother and I were small children: I was four years old; my brother, six. He was sent to a Jewish boarding school in England, and I went to my mother’s older brother and his wife in Birmingham. A few years later, my father remarried and brought me back home. My stepmother was Irish and came from a religious Jewish family. We lived a secular life and did not have any connection to a Jewish community, since the closest one was in the capital of Cardiff. When I was fourteen, we moved to Cardiff. I finished school at the age of fifteen, went to a secretary college for six months, and then started working. At the age of seventeen, I left Wales and moved to London, where I rented a room and worked as a typist. In the spirit of the times back then, I lived like a “hippie.” I believed in socialism and that all people should be treated equally, participated in antiwar demonstrations, and grew long hair. In 1966, I visited Israel for the first time. I came for a six-month program to a kibbutz in Israel. There I met a young man from Manchester. We got engaged, and I moved to Manchester with him. There I started working for a Jewish newspaper. But a short time after, I decided to move to Israel. This decision was primarily based on antisemitic experiences, which I will talk about later on. Since my boyfriend wanted to stay in England, we broke up. I immigrated to Israel in 1969. I was sent to Kibbutz Mishmar Ha’emek, where I live still today. Soon after my arrival, I married a member of the kibbutz. During the first two years, I worked in the poultry farm. After this stint with the chickens, I was put in charge of the Hebrew-teaching class (Ulpan) for new immigrants and volunteers for fifteen years. The following fifteen years

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I spent milking cows. In the 1980s, I also started to work in Givat Haviva, the seminar center of the kibbutz movement (https://www.givat-haviva.net/ givat-haviva-israel). Since then, I facilitate seminars for visitors from abroad. The focus of my activities are Jewish-Arab relations and the Middle East conflict. I am also a freelance journalist, contributing articles to English language publications in Israel and abroad. I have five children and twelve grandchildren. In the last twenty years, I have been traveling to England regularly for business and private life.

Antisemitism: Thoughts, Experiences, and Positions How Do You Define Antisemitism? Can You Name Specific Examples from Your Experience? I remember the subject of antisemitism being discussed in our family since my childhood. My grandparents had hoped to part from it by leaving Poland. But as they used to say, “Antisemitism traveled along on the ship with the many non-Jewish Poles,” some of whom became their neighbors in Wales. My earliest personal experience was in public school. My family name was Greenberg, a well-known Jewish name in Britain. Although I knew that I was Jewish, it did not mean anything to me emotionally. My origin was rather a burden to me, because the children kept insulting me using old stereotypes and vilifications. They pulled my nose and said that it was not long enough for a Jewess. Others jeered at me: “You used to have horns, they just have been cut off. “ When I was eleven years old, the religious education teacher said to me in front of the whole class: “Lydia, you are Jewish. Tell the children why your family killed Christ.” So, the children called me “Christ killer.” I was so scared that even today I still feel the fear. I ran away from school to my father’s shop and burst in shouting: “Dad, did we kill Christ?” He did not complain, because he was afraid to harm his business as the teachers and the children’s parents were his customers. But I left that school. I started to play golf in Caerphilly, and I won trophies. But when I moved to England, I found out that most of the established golf clubs did not accept Jews. Finally, I played in the Jewish Gold Club in Birmingham, where my uncle was a member. Upon finishing school, I looked for work. I applied by phone for a job in a toy shop. The owner had not asked for my name. He invited me for an interview and wanted to hire me. So he gave me a form to fill out. When he saw my name, Lydia Greenberg, he realized that I was Jewish. He screamed at me: “Get out of my shop, I don’t want any dirty Jews working for me!”

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After that experience, I thought that I could solve the problem by adopting the name “Green,” assuming that it sounded less Jewish. Indeed, it became easier to find a job and also to be accepted by other young people. When I was looking for a room to rent in London, many advertisements openly stated “Jews, Blacks or dog owners do not need to apply.” Sometimes Irish were added to this list as well. In London, I signed on with the Manpower Temporary Agency and was sent to St. Thomas’s Hospital where the woman in charge of the typing pool addressed me as “Manpower”—she was not interested in my name. At a tea break, she asked me to hand her a newspaper on the table in front me. As I passed it over my shoulder to her, it opened, and I saw that the headline was to do with an exchange of fire between Egypt and Israel. She then said to all the women in the tearoom: “It’s a shame Hitler didn’t make soap out of all of the Jews!” I stood up, turned around, and asked her what her problem was with Jews. She looked at me and said hatefully, “So you are one of those Jews?” She walked out. Nobody said anything—the silence was deafening. I told the person in charge of administration at the hospital that I was leaving. He convinced me that it was the wrong thing to do, that I should sit among them, hold my head up, and not give in to the hatred. So, I completed the five days in silence. Although it took me some time to make up my mind about Israel, this was a central moment leading to my decision to leave Britain. In Manchester, I worked for the Jewish Chronicle & Gazette, and often had to report about antisemitic incidents, such as graffiti on the walls of cemeteries, and damage to gravestones or synagogues. I could not understand why the members of the Jewish community did not shout out its protest. Why did they accept antisemitism, as my father had when the teacher had accused his eleven-year-old daughter of killing Jesus? Since the time of my youth, antisemitism has gone through a metamorphosis. When I lived in England, antisemitism had nothing to do with Israel and everything with Christian antisemitic motives, such as the belief that Jews drank the blood of Christian children on Passover. When I came to Israel, the first years I was busy with my family, learning a new culture and language. At the time, we had no telephone, television, no internet, so we were rather disconnected. So the issue of antisemitism was not a priority for me. But from the 1980s, I went on regular visits to Great Britain for personal and professional reasons. I came back as a British Israeli Jew visiting the “Heimat.” I was not confronted anymore with the antisemitism I had known in my youth, but with a new form. The British people held Israel in high esteem until 1967, when Israel conquered the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, and the Golan Heights as a result of the Six Day War.

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However, as the years passed and Israel did not retreat from some of these territories, then people started to change their view of Israel. This time, I was not seen negatively because I was a Jew but because I was an Israeli. Today in England the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement is a much politicized anti-Israel movement that is laced with a good portion of antisemitism. Its activists do not fight against the Occupation of Palestinian territories, but, at its core, they fight against the very existence of Israel. In London and Cardiff, I have witnessed several BDS demonstrations. They give legitimacy to antisemitic people to stand in a crowd and yell abuse at Israel. I tried to speak to some of the protestors, but they would not talk to me because I am an Israeli. I could have as well shown a red rag to a bull. In comparison to the past, additional factors have been thrown into the arena with regard to the dissemination of antisemitism. The use of clever technology and social media give easy access to visual propaganda. It is being pumped through a mobile phone the size of a packet of cigarettes being carried in your pocket. People are gullible, believing lies without giving them much thought—taking the easy way out. They go for black and white and do not deal with huge grey areas in between. Sometimes I am asked questions about Israel and Jews that shake me to the core and, upon asking where they received that information about Israel or Jews, people answer, “Actually, I don’t really know.”

What Role Does Israel Play for You in the Context of Antisemitism? My kibbutz is a community that was founded almost one hundred years ago, and I have lived here for half of that time, almost two-thirds of my life. Against all odds, we are still a socialist-based community. Nobody receives more than anybody else irrespective of what work they do—university professors, hightech whiz kids, lawyers, doctors, gardeners, and farmers. The mere fact that there is a state for those Jews who choose to live here is a “finger-up” to antisemites who feel they can so freely assault Jews in Europe and elsewhere. My kibbutz, where non-Jews are also members, has always been a place where the strength of the community has been strongly felt by the individual member, some of whom are Holocaust survivors, Jews who came from Arab countries to Israel in the 1940s, Russian Jews who fled antisemitism and communism and much more. Where would we all be today had there not been Israel to come to?

Do You Consider Criticism of Israel as Antisemitic? No, it is not at all antisemitic to criticize Israel. However, it depends on what that criticism is based on. People who honestly want to criticize Israel should make sure that they have multiperspective knowledge and that they base their

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criticism on “facts” and not on preconceived ideas fed by others and particularly the media. Many of those with deep prejudices are usually incapable of listening to any other opinion, as they just want their preconceived prejudiced ideas confirmed. From my experience, when you confront haters of Israel with their lack of knowledge and thus push them into a corner, they recur to pure antisemitism. I heard so many statements such as “Jews control the banks and want to take over the world,” and “Israelis want to steal all the land from the neighboring countries.” Many times, when I have been in discussion with people in Europe and try to talk about Israel’s contributions to humankind in the form of advancement in medicine, agriculture, and of course high-tech, instead of relating to the positive message, they turn it on its head as another proof of Jews wanting to take total control of the world. At the same time, I do not know of any antisemitic person who has thrown away his/her mobile phone and computer upon learning they were developed with the help of Israeli technology.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Israeli Politics? The behavior of the present Israeli government plays into the hands of antisemitic elements abroad—that is for sure. Unfortunately, it adds fuel to the agenda of the dedicated, totally biased, and tunnel-vision antisemite who refuses to see anything positive about Israel. However, a large percentage of people abroad who are critical of Israeli actions are not antisemites. Treating them automatically as Jew haters is totally wrong; such a narrow-minded attitude is very damaging to the country.

Do You See a Correlation between Antisemitism and Any Other Form of Group-Related Enmity? Yes, absolutely. Today the biggest part of nonacceptance in Europe is directed against Muslims and Jews. Islamophobia has become a card for creating havoc, for gaining votes, for drawing attention to oneself in order to publicize, free of charge, one’s political agenda. It should be noted at the same time that things are not clear in this respect. Homosexuals can be antisemites as well; antisemites can be homosexual, and Islamophobes are not automatically antisemitic. It is all very complex, more than it seems at first sight.

Is There Any Point in Fighting Antisemitism? Of course, one must fight antisemitism, racism, and ignorance in all its most subtle and vicious forms. If we raise our hands in surrender, what future will

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our children and grandchildren have in this world? But I must admit that for the first time in my life I do not know how to fight antisemitism and racism. I do not have the answers anymore.

Should Israel Be Involved in the Fight against Antisemitism in Europe? Jewish communities in the Diaspora need the support of Israel in their fight against antisemitism and in their continuing struggle to keep their institutions physically safe. By the same token, Israel needs the support of the Jewish communities abroad, financially and politically. But, unfortunately, the decisions of the Israeli government are also becoming a major factor in driving division between Jews in those very same communities and those living in Israel.

Epilogue Antisemites Are the Others On Recent Difficulties of Surveying the Problem of Antisemitism in Europe Gisela Dachs

It was part of the self-understanding of Europe’s liberal democracies after 1945 that antisemitism was a phenomenon of the past. There could be no Judeophobia; it was not allowed to exist. This statement was, of course, incorrect. Very ancient traditional prejudices lived on and continued to be very much alive. At the Stammtisch (the regulars’ table) in German pubs and elsewhere, jokes about Jews will be swapped after the third glass of beer at the latest. It was only in the open or on the public stage that antisemitism was taboo. Whoever violated this rule risked losing public office, honor, and respect. However, what has been happening since the publication of the German original of this book demonstrates in horrifying ways that antisemitism is nowadays not a phenomenon merely to be found in the history books. This essay is about the increasingly politicized debate in the media and among academics. After all, Judeophobia comes from all sorts of directions and is at home in many places. However, antisemitism is less an object of active resistance than an issue used by many for their own purposes. Depending on one’s ideological and political positions, the antisemites in other camps are invariably said to constitute the more serious threat. This leads to a new difficulty of grasping this problem, and it is these divergent fronts that are being outlined in this essay. Like the two introductory scholarly articles, what follows will be largely focused on the Federal Republic, also in view of the subsequent set of interviews that are also more heavily weighted toward Germany. By way of introduction, three cases that occurred in Germany, Britain, and France in 2019 illustrate the problems at hand. In Germany, a brutal attack on the synagogue in Halle in Central Germany took place on Yom Kippur, the highest Jewish holiday. On that day, a right-wing radical assassin had tried in

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vain to shoot his way into the place of worship, which was filled with members of the local Jewish community. His failure to force his way through the locked main door so enraged him that he shot two people who happened to pass by. He then posted his criminal acts on the Internet. After his arrest, his mother, a primary school teacher for ethics (who has since been suspended), defended her son on the Spiegel TV channel, claiming that “he had no animus against Jews as such. But he objects to people who wield financial power, and who do not share this.”1 The second case involves eight Labour Members of Parliament in Britain who gave up their seats. They felt that they could no longer serve a party that, led by Jeremy Corbyn, was institutionally antisemitic.2 Although Corbyn was subsequently voted out of office, they also reproached him for his “friendly affinity” with Hezbollah and Hamas, even if he did not share their views. The case of Corbyn is also mentioned in the interview that Anita Haviv-Horiner conducted with Rafael Shklarek. To him, the Corbyn case is an example of how a left-liberal cosmopolitanism became mixed up with sympathies for Islamists (see chapter 9). He added that moral criticisms are only made of the Israeli side, while these are unceremoniously dropped when it comes to Israel’s enemies. Third, with regard to France, there is the case of the Jewish philosopher Alain Finkielkraut, who was called “You dirty Jew!” during protests by the Yellow Vest movement. The demonstrators also shouted that “the people will punish you!” until security forces moved forward to protect him. As Finkielkraut told it, one of the most threatening demonstrators had pointed to his own Muslim head covering and added that “God will punish you,” since “France belongs to us.”3 According to the police this man was a Salafist. On the following day, some one hundred grave stones were desecrated with swastikas in the Jewish cemetery of the Alsatian town of Quatzenheim near Strasbourg. While the perpetrators remained unknown, such deeds are now no longer exceptions. There are also fears that Germany might follow the French (and British) example. According to a 2020 survey by the Central Council of Jews in Germany, the association of Jewish communities in the Federal Republic, members were asked about how secure they felt in their town. Some 41 percent replied that they felt “more likely insecure” or “not secure at all.”4 These may be subjective perceptions, but these statistics are worrying. In the three countries mentioned here, crimes by Judeophobes have continually increased over many years. In Germany, the police registered more than two thousand antisemitic felonies in 2019, most of which were committed by rightists. However, the daubing of swastikas was counted as right-wing extremist, even if they were traced to an Islamist. As a result, much of this activity remains in a gray zone. Antisemitic incidents were registered in Britain in 2019 during four consecutive years, reaching a total of 1,805.5 In many cases, these were verbal attacks

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in the streets, directed against people whose Jewishness was recognizable. Some 687 antisemitic incidents were registered in France in 2019 alone. This includes the murder of Mireille Knoll, an 85-year-old Holocaust survivor, who is mentioned by Stephanie Courouble Share in her interview (see chapter 14). The sentence against the murderer had not yet been rendered at the time of the interview. Since then, the court decided that this was clearly an antisemitic crime. The question of the adequate assessment of violence against Jewish victims also preoccupied the state attorney in Hamburg after an attack on the Hamburg synagogue in October 2020. Wearing a fatigue of the German Army, the 29-year-old culprit had attacked with a spade a 26-year-old student who was wearing a kippah, causing a serious head injury. Investigating the case, the state attorney could not find that the attacker was motivated by antisemitism, since he was mentally disturbed. Although a scrap of paper had been found in his pocket with a swastika scribbled on it, the investigation concluded that the crime was not politically motivated.6 These incidents have given rise to a dispute over who and what should be called antisemitic and whether and how much antisemitism has in fact increased. Moreover, opinions have begun to diverge sharply over the source of the biggest threat. Many on the Left view Judeophobia expressed by Muslims with forbearance. To be sure, much, or even all, can be justified in terms of sympathies with the Palestinian cause and by the fact that in Europe Muslims are treated with hostility by racists. But they vigorously refute the notion that this “protest in favor of the suppressed” or they themselves are in any way linked to antisemitism, which—they seem to think—is merely a phenomenon of the Right. It is in this context that the argument is being made that antisemitism has been exported from the West to the East. This basic attitude may have manifested itself in another court verdict rendered in 2017, when an arson attack on a synagogue in Wuppertal in the Rhineland was not deemed an antisemitic crime per se. The perpetrators were three Palestinians from the West Bank. The judge accepted the defendants’ explanation that they had intended to draw attention to the war in Gaza taking place at that time between Israel and Hamas. Whoever is looking for another case in point may be referred to adherents of Hezbollah who have been marching through the streets of Berlin year after year on Al Quds Day, which the Iranian Ayatollah Khamenei proclaimed to demand not only the “liberation” of Jerusalem from the Zionists, but also sending the “Jews into gas.”7 Up to that point, many had assumed that such words would never again be said in a public space. The marches seem to have caused them to gradually lose their significance as a taboo. Silke Mertins has called this development a “selective loss of eyesight,”8 which has exempted groups viewed as being weak from the injustices perpe-

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trated against them. In particular, she bemoaned the absence of statements among Leftists relating to Islamism: Islamophobia that saw a rise in Germany and throughout the West, made this kind of positioning easier. Islam and Islamism were telescoped by a growing number of people. Public discourse was determined by angst and rejection. The right-wing spectrum began to take possession of this topic. How could one still take a position without being racist, ethnocentric or paternalistic? The question is perfectly justified, and it is difficult to find an answer to it.9

This kind of caution was also noticeable during the refugee crisis of 2015. There was a desire to shield men and women who sought protection from war in their homeland and who were potentially exposed to racism on their arrival in Germany due to additional stigmatization. Consequently, people ignored that these refugees had been socialized into a world in which anti-Jewish resentment was widespread, and not just as part of a political ideology, but also as a cultural code.10 In a kind of competition as victims, they transformed themselves into “the Jews of today.”11 This type of logic may also have been at play when the established media reported rather belatedly on the massive sexual harassment of women by men in Cologne during the New Year’s Eve celebrations on 31 December 2015 and finally also identified the ethnic background of the perpetrators. This delay had a sustained impact on the credibility of the media. It also gave a boost to the growing right-wing radical and populist Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) that had already made the slogan of the “Lügenpresse” (lying press) part of its propaganda.12 However, the representatives of the New Right have also dissociated themselves from antisemitism. They prefer to vehemently condemn the “imported antisemitism,” thereby pointing to the Muslims in order to justify their own xenophobia. Moreover, they frequently pose demonstratively as being proIsrael, above all to mark the supposed front against the Arab enemy. This selective Judeophilia—at least among some AfD politicians—is accompanied by a blatant attempt to minimize National Socialism and thus the Holocaust. After all, it was no lesser politician than Alexander Gauland who did not recoil from calling the Nazi period “a bird shit of history.”13 This means that each side tends to shift the blame for antisemitism onto the other sides and thus plays down its own contribution, if not denying it altogether. It is the “Others” who are the antisemites: right-wing radicals, Muslims, refugees, Leftists, or even the so-called Center. The perspective is already filtered from the outset. If the perpetrators do not fit into one’s own worldview, the problem is turned into a taboo emerging from or held by specific groups. In 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic hit the world. In many countries, this became a year that was marked by a general weakening of whatever social and cultural inhibitions had existed. There are some circles now in Germany

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where protective measures taken by the public have led to a cynical disdain of Holocaust victims. Followers of the so-called “hygiene movement,” who protested against the government’s COVID restrictions, presented themselves as victims comparable to those of the Holocaust. Demonstrators appeared in the streets in concentration camp uniforms, displaying a Yellow Star with the words “vaccinated” written across it. Others compared their predicament to Anne Frank and Sophie Scholl.14 Such pictures were widely posted on social media. Rumors were also spread that Jews were the ones who had caused the pandemic and were profiting from it. Conspiracy theories have always emerged in the context of mass infections. In Europe, they were almost always directed against Jews, who, as a religious minority, were particularly prone to being attacked. In the fourteenth century, Jews were accused of poisoning wells and thus causing the Black Death. They were also deemed to be members of secret associations that pulled the actual strings behind the curtains. When the printed book was invented, it was possible to submit and copy so-called “evidence.” These conspiracy theories continued all the way to the twentieth century—for example, the alleged correspondence between Jews in Spain and those in Constantinople that aimed at the destruction of a Catholic country was a precursor of the fraudulent document titled “Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion.” Today, few still believe in the devil, but conspiracy theories continue to be attractive. Some like to believe horror stories or find pleasure in breaking taboos. Other people are uplifted by a sense of being more knowledgeable than others and to belong to a small group of the chosen whose insights are superior. According to surveys, some 30 percent of Germans believe their life is determined by conspiracies that are secretly created. No less than 33 percent think that their politicians are mere puppets directed by powers behind them. And some 40 percent believe that there are secret organizations that are having a tangible influence on political decision-making.15 These are fantasies that are either antisemitic from the start or are capable of being merged seamlessly into antisemitic conspiracy theories. Thus, a study undertaken at the University of Oxford16 found that just under 20 percent of Britons agreed up to a certain point with the assertion that the COVID-19 virus had been produced by Jews in order to profit economically from it. An equally high percentage made Muslims responsible for the pandemic. This was allegedly their way of attacking Western values. However, there are also conspiracy theories to be found among Muslim migrant groups. The German-Israeli Palestinian Ahmad Mansour, who works with radicalized Muslim youths in Berlin, had described how antisemitic conspiracy theories are also being spread in mosques and on the Internet. Many Muslim adolescents, he found, are convinced that the Al Qaida attacks on New York and Washington on 11 September 2001 were staged by the United States and

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Israel; they also believe that Jews do not pay taxes or that the supermarket chains of Aldi, Lidl, Saturn, and Media Markt are owned by Jews.17 When David Ranan, a Jewish Israeli with German roots, asked Muslims in Germany about their views, he, too, came to the conclusion that anti-Jewish attitudes are widespread among them.18 However, there is a marked difference between him and Mansour. It is his impression that the situation is now much less tangible. In his view, current definitions and methods of recognition are no longer sufficient to describe the latter forms of antisemitism. It is at this point that the role of Israel comes into play. This book examines Judeophobia as a transnational problem. All interlocutors are Israelis with close connections to the Old Continent. Some of them even grew up there or live in Europe today. They share their experiences, but also provide insights into how other societies view Jews and Israel. Most of them are critical of Israeli politics, and yet there emerges a clear consensus among them with respect to how Israel is perceived in Europe, and which they consider warped. The focus of this book is on the established mainstream media that, in the group’s view, shape images of Israel incompletely at best. They reproach these foreign reports for providing insufficient context. The media are poorly informed, superficial, and unable to explain complex situations. For Daniel Shek, it is not hatred that is the main enemy of Israel in public discourse, but ignorance (see chapter 15). One is dealing with journalists who have pre-existing opinions that simplify matters because they lack sufficient knowledge. There is also Ronny Hollaender’s complaint that the reports always highlight Israeli actions, while the real dangers with which the country is confronted are not mentioned (see chapter 3). Journalists no doubt have a special role to play in the context, as they produce images that shape public opinion in Europe. After the Six-Day War of 1967, Israel morphed from David to Goliath and hence was no longer a country attracting sympathy. Marc Grimm shows how the norms of what can be said about Jews in Germany have changed and how images have also shifted in the established mainstream media since German reunification in 1991.19 With the growth of satellite TV and the Internet, the influence of these media has grown further.20 The Israeli-Palestinian conflict during the Second Intifada was “exported” by the media and thus also began to influence other societies. In his book “Le récit impossible,” Jerome Bourdon has written about the difficulties of foreign reporting and also about the exporting of this struggle by the media.21 The photo of a little boy in Gaza cowering behind his father at the start of the Second Intifada was widely circulated, and yet it is by no means clear that—as has been asserted—it was Israeli bullets that killed the boy shortly after the photo was taken.22

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However, this question did not figure in the impact that this image had. Instead, it became an icon that was replicated on Egyptian stamps and innumerable graffiti in the Arab world. It also provided the visible backdrop to the decapitation of the Jewish-American journalist Daniel Pearl. French Jews were particularly negatively affected by the consequences of this incident in that they became the involuntary hostages of the conflict in the Middle East. Since then, many Jews have felt increasingly abandoned after antisemitic incidents. This was also true in 2015, when the victims killed in the kosher HyperCacher supermarket were overshadowed by the public attention given to the attack on the Charlie Hebdo magazine offices.23 Both attacks were part of the same terror wave. However, there were no equivalent to the slogan “Je suis Charlie” in the media and in the French public that expressed solidarity with the Jews who had been murdered in the supermarket.24 The conflict has also reached the streets and increasingly multiethnic classrooms in Germany. When giving talks on Israel to groups of students and teachers from Germany, I have time and again experienced how much these groups felt overwhelmed by the disputes about the Middle East and antisemitism. Interestingly enough, it is less often the history teachers, and more often the physical education and English teachers, who bemoan their own helplessness. They frequently just do not know how to make substantive points if there is a dispute among students during their breaks. In her interview, Tirza Lemberger (see chapter 11) refers to the need to equip teachers with the appropriate tools. It is her view that these are skills that can be acquired. Complaints made against one-sided reporting on Israel frequently deal with the question of how reliable reports in international media actually are.25 Thus, as the former agency journalist Matti Friedman wrote, the construction of a hundred apartments in a West Jordan settlement is always newsworthy, unlike the smuggling of a hundred rockets by Hamas into the Gaza Strip.26 In simplified reports, Jews more than other people on this planet are presented as examples of moral failure. It is a thought pattern that has deep roots in Western civilization. What is not mentioned are the rational fears of Israelis who are opposed to the Occupation and would like to live in peace with their neighbors, yet are afraid of a retreat of the Israeli army from the West Bank. The responsibility of journalists was also the subject of a report that was published in 2013 by the International Press Institute in Vienna and that analyzed the adequacy of the vocabulary used in reports on the Middle East.27 This was an appeal to uphold journalistic accuracy and professionalism. It was also a belated response to the heated political climate during the Second Intifada. Indeed, the language used by journalists in conflict zones can perpetuate stereotypes. It can also inflame hatred and divert attention from the actual issues at stake. How this conflict is covered is not less important than what is

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covered. It should be a taboo to make comparisons with the Holocaust, just as it is to extol Palestinian suicide bombers as martyrs. However, it is often not so much the texts themselves but the headlines, the pictures,28 and the subtitles chosen by the editor back home that are more friendly to the Palestinian narrative. The destitution of the Palestinians is simply easier to put across than the fear of the Israelis of the next attack.29 The titles also like to repeat well-worn themes, from the constantly escalating circle of violence all the way to the metaphor of “an eye for an eye” that has been endlessly misapplied. But is all this antisemitic? According to Daniel Shek (see chapter 15), people who very consciously do not wish to appear antisemitic may well resort to descriptions and notions that clearly sound so “to a Jewish ear.” This raises the question of how far journalists are open to self-criticism. After all, if a quarter of the Germans display Judeophobic attitudes, adding up to some twenty million citizens, it is not possible to assume that journalists are the exception in this respect. Esther Shapira and Georg M. Hafner have a particularly critical take on this. In their view, there are many mainstream journalists who turn into “missionaries and provide their clients with images that feed into those that already exist in their minds.”30 Many of them may “barely be aware of their own resentments, and yet they accompany their work.”31 It is indeed good to ask what motivated the editors in charge of two dailies, the Hamburger Morgenpost and the Berliner Kurier, when they published an article with the title “The seven craziest (durchgeknalltesten) leaders of the world” and put Benjamin Netanyahu on a par with Iran’s Ayatollah Khamenei, Syria’s Bashar Assad, North Korea’s Kim Jong-un, Russia’s Vladimir Putin, the Philippine’s Rodrigo Duterte, and Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe.32 Such headlines undoubtedly deserve to be called out. According to a survey by the progressive Mitvim think tank, 59 percent of the Israelis believed in 2017 that the criticism of their country was rooted in a basic hostility against Israel, and not in a critical attitude toward the policies of the Israeli government.33 At the same time, there is a danger in passing summary judgment on critical foreign reporting and automatically seeing it as evidence of prejudice. After all, such evaluations should not be guided by pre-existing opinions, but must be examined on a case-by-case basis. This volume has been posing the question of the correlation between antisemitism and Israeli policies. While most of the interviewees’ answers contain much criticism of the Israeli government, some doubt that there exists a direct link between the two, with others taking Israeli politicians to task. Some of the interviewees are interested in the political moorings of the critics. The British sociologist David Hirsh found that some of these critics are in fact quite removed from where events take place; yet their critique of Israel can still be a key element of their political identity, which tends to be related

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to a subterranean antisemitism.34 Behind it may also be the desire to belong to a milieu that is deemed enlightened and liberal. In this context, religious, unenlightened, patriotic attitudes are merely deemed to exist among the Israeli settler movement.35 This may be a very generalized statement, and yet it cannot be overlooked that Islamist actors, for example, are much less likely to find themselves in a cross fire because of their ideology. Where Israel is concerned, there is invariably much more still to be negotiated. Thus Etgar Keret, an avowed critic of the Israeli government and of the occupation, defines Israel in his interview as a screen for the projections of the Europeans. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is frequently viewed through the prism of one’s own history, as I have argued in my article of 2002.36 Those who talk about Israel therefore often speak about themselves. When Germans deal with Israel, the Holocaust inevitably plays a role. When it comes to occupation, the French tend to remember Charles de Gaulle and his retreat from Algeria. With the Belgians, it is the colonialist past in the Congo. And when it comes to Ireland, Israel is seen in the role that Britain played in that country up to the twentieth century. Settlers in West Jordan are treated as analogs to the British Protestants who moved to Northern Ireland. Switzerland changed its tone and language toward Israel when the so-called sleeping bank accounts of Jews were discovered who had been murdered in the Holocaust and the Swiss had to face the question of whether they had been neutral, as the notion of Swiss neutrality has become a fixed point in national discourse. At the same time, attitudes in some East European countries are pro-Israeli today, also as a way of distancing themselves from the former Communist regimes that had been pro-Arab. But where is the border between legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and motivations that are antisemitic? This is a question that has recently again preoccupied the Germans, in particular after the Federal Parliament condemned the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement as antisemitic. It also voted to stop the allocation to BDS of public funds and space for its meetings. This in turn led others to oppose the move in defense of freedom of opinion. Thus, representatives of prestigious cultural and scientific institutions rejected the parliamentary vote at the end of 2020.37 Support of the BDS became a sort of stance in defense of human rights, even though the institutions simultaneously and explicitly distanced themselves from BDS policies. The resolution of the Federal Parliament, it was said, would result in an “overzealous surveillance of the political views of cultural producers from the Middle East and the global South.” It amounted to a “racial profiling through the backdoor” and was also to the detriment of “the continuing struggle against the virulent growth of antisemitism around the globe as well as inside the German Parliament, the police, the Federal armed forces and the secret services.” The resolution would also lead to a “climate of censorship.”38 Those who had initiated the appeal were

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of the opinion that criticism of the policies of the Israeli government and its interference in cultural and academic affairs was to be silenced in Germany. There are hence two fronts that face each other increasingly irreconcilably. On the one hand, there are the “critics of Israel,” and, on the other, there are the critics of the critics of Israel. The first group points to the inflationary use of the charge of antisemitism. The second group argues that the term “Israel-criticism” has meanwhile become a standard concept that can even be found in the German Dictionary. It also points to the fact that there is no thing such as China-criticism or Russia-criticism. Put differently, the first group suspects that the charge of antisemitism is intended to mute legitimate criticism, while the second group sees criticism of Israel as a pretext to articulate antisemitic resentments. As if the battle in this particular field were not being fought strenuously enough, the dispute has been further intensified by the question of the role of scholars of postcolonialism from the global South. They have their own, non-German, approach to the Holocaust and Israel that is also rooted in the perspective of victimhood. The argument advanced by Irit Dekel and Esra Özyrűk39 is that such voices were indiscriminately defamed because they compared the Holocaust to other genocides and did not view antisemitism as separate from racism. They demand that ancient and current forms of antisemitism should be discussed next to ancient and current forms of colonialism and racism. There is yet another group, with Felix Klein, the Federal Government Commissioner for Jewish Life in Germany and the Fight against Antisemitism,40 among them. They see a danger in this approach, as it represents nothing less than a conscious or unconscious playing-down of the Holocaust. They also warn that this approach leads to a situation in which contemporary Israel is used as the screen for the projection of comparisons that relativize the Jewish catastrophe under Nazism. What is therefore at stake here is the specificity of the German context and the inclusive right to participate in matters concerning the Holocaust, Jews, and Israel in the twenty-first century. This right is claimed in particular by those European societies that have only just begun to deal with their own colonialist past. However, such an opening up of a discussion cannot be automatically removed from the issue of antisemitism. Yet this is an argument that those who advocate fresh approaches to historical studies41 are merely reluctantly, if at all, prepared to ponder. Moreover, many participants in this debate believe that the separation of antisemitism from other issues is outdated. They position Judeophobia as a subcategory of xenophobia. They must be seen in juxtaposition to those who adhere to more inclusive notions of antisemitism42 that extend beyond the neo-Nazis and the Far Right identitarian movement. This perspective may even extend itself to people who are themselves victims of racism.

Epilogue | 157

All agree that antisemitism, racism, and xenophobia must be confronted. But what remains so difficult is finding answers to the questions as to what the foundations are upon which this is to be achieved and where the limit of mutual toleration should be drawn. This is what is now being negotiated anew. It is not clear yet, however, whether this will make the debate easier to survey in the future. Is Europe at the beginning of something new, after all?

Gisela Dachs is an international journalist and a professor of media studies at the European Forum of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in Israel. She started her professional career at the French daily Libération in Paris before joining the German weekly Die Zeit, first as a political editor in Hamburg and then for more than two decades as its Israel correspondent. She holds a PhD from the University Tel Aviv, focusing on news media consumption, migrants, and belonging. Since 2001 she has been the editor-in-chief of the Jüdischer Almanach, published by the Leo Baeck Institute Jerusalem. She is also the author/editor of the compendium Länderbericht Israel (Country report Israel), published in 2016 by the Federal Agency for Civic Education in Germany.

Notes 1. Spiegel-Online, “Anschlag von Halle: Die wirre Welt des Attentäters,” Der Spiegel, 14 October 2019, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://www.spiegel.de/panorama/justiz/ halle-saale-stephan-balliet-bereitete-tat-seit-monaten-vor-a-1291500.html. 2. Alan Johnson, “Institutionally Antisemitic: Contemporary Left Antisemitism and the Crisis in the British Labour Party,” Fathom Report, March 2019. 3. France 24, Indignation après les insultes antisémites de Gilets jaunes à l’encontre d’Alain Finkielkraut, France24.com, 17 February 2019, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https:// www.france24.com/fr/20190217-france-gilets-jaunes-alain-finkielkraut-injures-anti semites-reactions-tolle. 4. Results of a public opinion poll (named “Gemeindebarometer”) among Jews in Germany, conducted by the Central Council of Jews in Germany between 24 September and 31 December 2019. 5. Martin Armstrong, “Antisemitic Incidents at Record Levels in the UK,” Business data platform “Statista,” 11 February 2020, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://www .statista.com/chart/16928/antisemitic-incidents-in-the-uk-annual/. 6. André Zuschlag, “Unpolitisch auf einen Juden einschlagen,” Taz, 7 February 2021, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://taz.de/Unpolitisch-auf-einen-Juden-einsch lagen/!5738265/. 7. Micki Weinberg, “Wave of Anti-Semitic Rallies Hits Cities across Germany,” Times of Israel, 21 July 2014, Retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://www.timesofisrael.com/ wave-of-anti-semitic-rallies-hits-cities-across-germany/. 8. Silke Mertins, “Die Linke und der Islamismus: Selektive Erblindung,” Taz, 3 January 2021. Retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://taz.de/Die-Linke-und-der-Islam ismus/!5736354/. 9. Ibid.

158 | Nothing New in Europe? 10. Sina Arnold and Jana König, “One Million Antisemites? Attitudes toward Jews, the Holocaust, and Israel: An Anthropological Study of Refugees in Contemporary Germany,” Antisemitism Studies 3, no.1 (2019): 4–45. 11. Çetin Çelik, “‘Having a German Passport Will Not Make Me German’: Reactive Ethnicity and Oppositional Identity among Disadvantaged Male Turkish SecondGeneration Youth in Germany,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 38, no. 9 (2015): 1646–62. 12. A defamatory word that had frequently been used in Nazi Germany and the former GDR, “Lügenpresse” is today a common slogan among German political movements for the printed press and the mass media at large. 13. Alexander Gauland, parliamentary party leader of the AfD faction in Brandenburg’s state assembly, in a speech at the federal congress of the youth organization of the AfD on 2 June 2018. 14. As it happened in demonstrations of the movement “Querdenken” on 21 November 2020 in Hannover and on 14 November 2020 in Karlsruhe. 15. Jochen Roose, Sie sind überall. Eine repräsentative Umfrage zu Verschwörungstheorien (Berlin: Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, 2020), retrieved 11 March from https:// www.kas.de/documents/252038/7995358/Eine+repr%C3%A4sentative+Umfrage +zu+Verschw%C3%B6rungstheorien.pdf/0f422364-9ff1-b058-9b02-617e15f8bbd8 ?version=1.0&t=1599144843148. 16. Study from the University of Oxford, “Conspiracy Beliefs Reduce the Following of Government Coronavirus Guidance,” OxWeb, 22 May 2020, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://www.ox.ac.uk/news/2020-05-22-conspiracy-beliefs-reduces-followinggovernment-coronavirus-guidance. 17. Ahmed Mansour, “Der muslimische Antisemitismus wird aus Angst vor RassismusVorwürfen verharmlost,” Der Tagesspiegel, 7 April 2017, retrieved 11 March 2021 from https://causa.tagesspiegel.de/gesellschaft/antisemitismus-unter-muslimen/der-muslimische-antisemitismus-wird-aus-angst-vor-rassismus-vorwuerfen-verharmlost.html. 18. David Ranan, Muslimischer Antisemitismus: Eine Gefahr für den gesellschaftlichen Frieden in Deutschland? (Bonn: Dietz Verlag, 2018). 19. Marc Grimm, “Germany’s Changing Discourse on Jews and Israel,” in Anti-Zionism and Antisemitism: The Dynamics of Delegitimization, ed. Alvin H. Rosenfeld (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2019), 369–96. 20. Gisela Dachs, “Angriff via Satellit. In Nahost sind elektronische Medien so wichtig wie Schusswaffen,” Die Zeit, 30 November 2000, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https:// www.zeit.de/2000/49/200049_medienkrieg.xml. 21. Jérôme Bourdon, Le récit impossible: Le conflit israélo-palestinien et les médias. Médias recherche series (Brussels: De Boeck, 2009). 22. James Fallows, “Who Shot Mohammed al-Dura?” The Atlantic, June 2003, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2003/06/whoshot-mohammed-al-dura/302735/. 23. On 7 January 2015, two French Muslim brothers, Saïd and Chérif Kouachi, forced their way into the offices of the French satirical weekly newspaper Charlie Hebdo in Paris. Armed with rifles and other weapons, they killed twelve people and injured eleven others. Two days later, Amedy Coulibaly, who later said he synchronized his attacks with the Kouachi brothers, attacked the people in a HyperCacher kosher food supermarket at Porte de Vincennes in east Paris. He killed four people, all of whom were Jewish, and took several hostages. 24. Solveig Hennebert, “Les Juifs français face aux attentats et à l’antisémitisme aujourd’hui,” The Conversation, 13 November 2020, retrieved 14 March from https:// theconversation.com/les-juifs-francais-face-aux-attentats-et-a-lantisemitisme-aujo urdhui-149757.

Epilogue | 159 25. Gisela Dachs, “Eifrige Suche nach Massengräbern. Die Israelis verstehen nicht, warum viele Europäer einseitig für die Palästinenser Partei ergreifen,” Die Zeit, 13 June 2002, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.zeit.de/2002/25/200225_israel_europa_xml. 26. Matti Friedman, “What the Media Gets Wrong about Israel,” The Atlantic, 30 November 2014, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.theatlantic.com/international/ archive/2014/11/how-the-media-makes-the-israel-story/383262/?fbclid=IwAR0I Jq5VzRx82BoVzybgZJKQ9S8ENmL-zaZUdHzlL8_RqS4D5yVs1_vGt5Y. 27. International Press Institute, Use with Care: A Reporter’s Glossary of Loaded Language in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (Vienna: IPI, 2013), retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://ethicaljournalismnetwork.org/assets/docs/197/150/4d96ac5-55a3396.pdf. 28. Gisela Dachs, “Viele Bilder lügen,” Die Zeit, 1 May 2008, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.zeit.de/online/2008/19/interview-bar-am. 29. W. R. Langenbucher and G. Yasin, “Produziert die Logik des Journalismus AntiIsraelismus? Von den Schwierigkeiten, aus Israel zu berichten,” in Wissenschaft mit Wirkung, Beiträge zu Journalismus- und Medienwirkungsforschung, ed. Christina HoltzBacha, Gunter Reus, and Lee B. Becker (Wiesbaden: VS Verlag fur Sozialwissenschaften, 2009). 30. Esther Schapira and Georg M. Hafner, “Warum tun sich viele deutsche Journalisten so schwer mit einer differenzierten Berichterstattung? Ein Erklärungsversuch.” Jüdische Allgemeine, 2 January 2018, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.juedische-allgemeine.de/kultur/es-ist-kompliziert-2/. 31. Ibid. 32. MKR, “Die siebe durchgeknalltesten Führer der Welt,” Hamburger Morgenpost, 10 March 2017, 5, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.pressreader.com/germany/ hamburger-morgenpost/20170310/281625305101911. 33. Mitvim Institute, “The 2017 Israeli Foreign Policy Index of the Mitvim Institute,” November 2017, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://mitvim.org.il/wp-content/up loads/English_Report_-_The_2017_Israeli_Foreign_Policy_Index_of_the_Mitvim_ Institute.pdf. 34. David Hirsh, Contemporary Left Antisemitism (London: Routledge, 2017). 35. Friedman, “What the Media Gets Wrong about Israel.” 36. Gisela Dachs, “Der koloniale Blick,” Die Zeit, 6 November 2003, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.zeit.de/2003/46/Israel. 37. Humboldt Forum, Press Room, Statement by the “Initiative GG 5.3 Weltoffenheit,” N.d., retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.humboldtforum.org/en/presse/ mitteilungen/statement-by-the-initiative-gg-5-3-weltoffenheit/. 38. Ibid. 39. Irit Dekel and Esra Özyürek, “What Do We Talk About When We Talk about Antisemitism in Germany?,” Journal of Genocide Research, 4 December 2020, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://DOI: 10.1080/14623528.2020.1847859. 40. Anna Schneider, “Wider den Judenhass: Deutschlands erster Antisemitismusbeauftragter, Felix Klein, scheut keine Debatte,” Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 22 October 2020, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.nzz.ch/international/der-deutsche-an tisemitismusbeauftragte-klein-scheut-keine-debatte-ld.1581847?reduced=true. 41. Cultural scientist Aleida Assmann calls it extending one’s view: Aleida Assmann: “Wo viel Licht ist, ist auch viel Schatten,” Norddeutscher Rundfunk, 14 May 2020, retrieved 14 March 2021 from https://www.ndr.de/kultur/Aleida-Assmann-Wo-viel-Licht-istist-auch-viel-Schatten,mbembe102.html. 42. Günther Jikeli, “A Model for Coming to Terms with the Past? Holocaust Remembrance and Antisemitism in Germany since 1945,” Israel Journal of Foreign Affairs 14, no. 3 (2020): 427–46.

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Index

Abraham, history and, 25 Action Reconciliation Service for Peace, 56 Adorno, Theodor, 34 AfD (Alternative for Germany), 72 Afula, Israel, 70 Aisenberg, Lydia, 10, 140–46 El-Alamein, Egypt, 98 Allen, Woody, 130 Alonei Yitzchak, Israel, 70 Alpern, Bernadett, 134–39 Al Qaida, 151. See also terrorism Al Quds Day, 149 Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), 19, 150 Amadeu Antonio Foundation (AAS), 19 Améry, Jean, 32 anti-Americanism, 17 antifeminism, 14 anti-Germans, 33 anti-imperialists, 15 anti-Islam, 49 anti-Israeli antisemitism, 19 anti-Israelism, 32 antisemites: opposition of Jews and, 15; as Others, 147–57; secondary, 29 antisemitism, 3; anti-Israeli, 19; Arab, 26; Christian, 22; criticism of Israel, 79, 85–87, 94, 101, 108–9, 115, 121, 131, 137, 144–45, 156; definitions of, 43–46, 50–51, 57–58, 64–65, 71–72, 77–78, 83–85, 92–93, 99–101, 106–7, 113–14, 119–20, 127–30, 136–37, 142–44; didactic approach to, 5–6; and education, 10; eliminationist, 27; in Europe, 25–27, 147–57 (see also Europe); examples of, 43–44, 50–51, 57–58, 64–65, 71–72, 77–78, 83–85,

92–93, 99–101, 106–7, 113–14, 119–20, 127–30, 136–37, 142–44; fighting, 45, 46, 53, 54, 59–60, 67–68, 73–74, 80, 87–88, 95–96, 102, 110, 116, 122–23, 132–33, 138, 139, 145–46; in France, 119; in Germany, 4; global trends/ underlying causes of, 14–17; groups and, 45, 52–53, 59, 67, 73, 79–80, 87, 94–95, 101, 109, 115–16, 122, 132, 138, 145; history of, 25; and Israel, 31, 32; Israel politics and, 66–67, 73, 79, 87, 109, 115; Israel role of, 65–66; left-wing, 32; modern day, 4–5; motifs, 44; new in Europe, 30–36; political movements and, 20; prejudice and, 27–30; reports on (Germany), 13–14, 17–21; research, 18; role of Israel, 72–73, 78–79, 85, 93–94, 101, 108, 114–15, 120–21, 130, 137, 144; secondary, 36; subtle, 50 anti-Zionism, 32, 121, 123 Arab antisemitism, 26 Arabic, 51, 53 Arabs, 33; Muslim-Arab new antisemitism, 34 Arafat, Yasser, 94 Aryans, 26 Auschwitz concentration camp, 4, 69, 82, 89, 114, 117, 124, 134 Austria, 3, 4, 5, 7, 42, 93, 100, 124; Freedom Party of Austria (FPÖ), 94; Linz, 99; Orthodox Kehal-Israel community, 99; Vienna, 81, 82, 93 Bad Reichenhall, Germany, 105 Band, Guy, 9, 11, 55–60 BDS (Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions), 59 Belgium, 69

Index | 167 Ben-Gurion University, 105 Berger, Dafna, 47–54 Berlin, Germany, 49, 51; Humboldt University, 22; Technical University, 18 Bernovice, Poland, 104 Bible, 25 BICOM (Britain-Israel Communications and Research Center), 126 bin Laden, Osama, 15 biographical interviews, 9–12 Birmingham, Great Britain, 141, 142 birth certificates, 70 bombings, Israel, 52 book of Esther, 26 Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS), 144 Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS), 155 Budapest, Hungary, 134, 135, 136, 137 The Bus of Friendship, 122 Canada, 63, 65 Cardiff, Wales, 141 Catholic Church, 22, 128 Charlie Hebdo magazine, 153 cheders, 91 Chirac, Jacques, 132 Christian antisemitism, 22 Christianity, 25, 36, 72, 95 circumcision, Jewish, 71 Columbia University, 113, 118 Commission of Experts, 18 communication methods, 35 communism, 90, 135 Communist Party (Soviet Union), 62 Communist Poland, 112. See also Poland community (umma), 16 concentration camps: Auschwitz, 4, 69, 82, 89, 114, 117, 124, 134; Dachau, 41, 71; Mauthausen, 4, 82, 99; Plaszow, 41; Poland, 47 conspiracy ideologies, 83 conspiracy theories, 151 controversy, 11 Corbyn, Jeremy, 86, 148 Courouble Share, Stephanie, 117–23, 149 COVID-19, 150, 151 criticism of Israel, 121, 131, 137, 144–45, 156. See also Israel

Cyprus, 104 Czechoslovakia, 41, 69, 124, 125 Dachau concentration camp, 41, 71 Dachs, Gisela, 4 democracy, 5, 15, 16 denial: antisemitism as form of, 16; of the Holocaust, 23 Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, 34 Diaspora Jews, 65, 66, 72, 80, 93, 101, 130, 146 Die Linke party (Germany), 20 discrimination, 14. See also antisemitism Dresden, Germany, 48, 49 Dreyfus Affair, 28 Eastern Europe, 29. See also Europe Eastern European Jews, 69 education, 56; antisemitism and, 10; BenGurion University, 105; cheders, 91; Columbia University, 113, 118; fighting antisemitism, 59; Haifa University, 136; Hirsch School, 98; Holocaust, 30; Jewish, 48; University of Vienna, 99 Egypt, 112 Ein Leben nach dem Überleben (A Life aft er Survival [Zelman/Thurnherr]), 84 eliminationist antisemitism, 27 emancipation, 15, 16 England, 142; London, 143. See also Great Britain Esther, book of, 26 Europe: antisemitism in, 3, 25–27, 147–57; comprehension of situation in Israel, 52; criticism of Israel, 45, 51–52; fighting antisemitism in, 46, 53, 54, 59–60, 68, 74, 80, 88, 95–96, 102, 110, 116, 122–23, 132–33, 139, 146; new antisemitism in, 30–36; perception of Israel, 5, 10; prejudice and antisemitism, 27–30; terrorism in, 16 Evangelische Kirche Deutschlands (EKD), 22 extermination camps. See concentration camps extremism, right-wing, 16 Far Right, 156 Federal Government (Germany), 13, 14 Finkielkraut, Alain, 148

168 | Index First World War, 28, 47, 57, 89I FPÖ (Freedom Party of Austria), 84 France, 3, 5, 7, 28, 70, 103, 105, 117, 118, 119, 121, 128, 130, 147; antisemitism in, 119; Chirac, Jacques, 132; Le Pen, JeanMarie, 127, 129; Macron, Emmanuel, 129; Paris, 118, 119, 126, 137 Frank, Anne, 151 Freedom Party of Austria (FPÖ), 94 Freilich, Miri, 7, 111–16 Friedrich Ebert Foundation (FES), 28 Gauland, Alexander, 150 GDR (German Democratic Republic), 50. See also Germany Generation of 1968, 32 genocide, 86. See also Holocaust German army (the Wehrmacht), 134 German Federal Parliament, 13, 18, 31 German Left, 15 German national railway system (Deutsche Reichsbahn), 48 Germany, 7, 36, 65, 112, 130, 134, 147, 153, 155; AfD (Alternative for Germany), 72; antisemitism in, 3, 4, 43–44, 77; Bad Reichenhall, 105; Berlin, 18, 22, 49, 51 (see also Berlin, Germany); Die Linke party, 20; Dresden, 48, 49; guilt, 19; history, 31; Jewish emigration from, 30; Jewish life in, 21; Länder (see Länder, Germany); Nazi, 84, 85; Nazis (see Nazis); Nuremberg, 97, 98; occupation of France, 132; Oettingen, 97; Pforzheim, 76, 77; reports on antisemitism, 13–14, 17–21; reunification of, 28, 29; support of Israel, 10; visits to, 49 Gestapo, 81 Ghetto of Krakow, 41 Ghetto Theresienstadt, 124 Givatayim, Israel, 56 Givat Haviva, 142 global trends: of antisemitism, 14–17 Goldhagen, Daniel, 27 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 62 Great Britain, 3, 7, 104, 140, 141, 142, 147 groups: antisemitism and, 45, 52–53, 109, 115–16, 122, 132, 138, 145 (see

also antisemitism); homosexuals (see homosexuals); and racism, 109, 115–16 Haider, Jörg, 128 Haifa University, 136 Halimi, Ilan, 119, 120 Hamann, Brigitte, 84 HaNoar HaOved VeHaLomed (the Working and Studying Youth), 70 hate, 92, 106; and the Holocaust, 121; influence of, 14; Jew hatred, 25. See also antisemitism hate speech, 3 Hebrew, 51, 53, 64 Hebrew-teaching class (Ulpan), 141 Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 42 Heimat: (homeland), 5 Herf, Jeffrey, 34 Herzl, Theodor, 29, 30 Hezbollah, 149 hierarchies of racism, 106 Hirsch, David, 154 Hirsch, Samson Raphael, 97 Hirsch School, 98 history: of antisemitism, 3, 4, 25; antisemitism in, 3; Germany, 31; of Judeophobia, 26 Hitler, Adolf, 81, 83, 84, 98, 100, 107, 143. See also Nazi Germany; Third Reich Hitler’s Vienna (Hamann), 84 Höcke, Björn, 36, 72 Hollaender, Ronny, 41–46, 152 Holocaust, 41, 43, 44, 78, 81, 100, 104, 107, 108, 112, 118, 125, 132, 135, 151, 155; concentration camps (see concentration camps); denial of, 23, 119, 120; education, 30; hate and, 121; memorials, 56; remembrance of, 46; survivors, 49; Vranitzky, Franz, 85; World Holocaust Remembrance Center Yad Vashem, 86 homophobia, 14, 109 homosexuals, 57, 73, 94, 109, 138 House of the Wannsee Conference, 57 Humboldt University (Berlin, Germany), 22 Hungary, 3, 7, 29, 41, 112, 129, 134, 135, 136, 137

Index | 169 identity, Jewish, 7 International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA), 30, 31 International Holocaust Remembrance Day, 116 interviewees: Aisenberg, Lydia, 140–46; Alpern, Bernadett, 134–39; Band, Guy, 55–60; Berger, Dafna, 47–54; Courouble Share, Stephanie, 117–23, 149; Freilich, Miri, 111–16; Hollaender, Ronny, 41–46, 152; K., Sonya, 61–68; Karpeles, Arthur, 89–96; Keret, Etgar, 103–10, 155; Lemberger, Tirza, 97–102, 153; Moghadam, Ofer, 75–80; profile of, 6–8; Shek, Daniel, 124–33, 154; Shklarek, Raphael, 81–88, 148; Sutter-Schreiber, Shimrit, 69–74 interviews, 3; biographical, 9–12; methods, 8; profile of interviewees (see interviewees) Iran, 20, 75, 86; Mashhad, 75; Tehran, 75, 76 Islam, 75 Islamic associations, 22 Islamic fundamentalism, 16 Islamism, 150 Islamist terror attacks, 15, 16, 17 Islamization, 33 Islamophobia, 145, 150 Israel, 3, 30, 42, 48, 75, 155; Afula, 70; Alonei Yitzchak, 70; antisemitism and, 31, 32; bombings, 52; criticism of, 44, 51–52, 66, 79, 85–87, 94, 101, 108–9, 115, 121, 131, 137, 144–45, 156; establishment of state, 104; European perception of, 5, 10; founding of, 31; Givatayim, 56; kibbitzes, 141 (see also kibbitzes); LGBTQ in, 35; Mossad, 79; politics, 10, 45, 52, 58–59, 65, 66–67, 73, 79, 87, 94, 109, 115, 122, 131, 138, 145; role of, 44, 51, 58, 65–66, 72–73, 78–79, 85, 93–94, 101, 108, 114–15, 120–21, 130, 137, 144; Tel Aviv, 48, 55, 64, 76, 104, 126, 136, 137. See also Jewish Israelis Israeli Gay Youth Organization, 56 Israeli Independence Day, 130 Israeli-Palestinian conflict, 109, 138, 152 Italy, 105

Jew-baiting, 25 Jew hatred, 25 Jewish Americans, 50 Jewish circumcision, 71 Jewish education, 48 Jewish identity, 7 Jewish Israelis, 3, 6 Jewish Museum, 65 Jewish religious laws, 90 Jewish symbols, 119 Jewish world conspiracy, 17 Jewry, claim of, 31 Jews: deportation of, 41; Diaspora, 72, 80; Eastern European, 69; favorable opinions of, 28; hostility towards, 14 (see also antisemitism); Orthodox, 97; as a race, 27; rumors about, 15 Judaism, 3, 135 Judenstern, 32 Judeophobia, 25, 26, 32 K., Sonya, 61–68 Karpeles, Arthur, 9, 89–96 Keret, Etgar, 10, 103–10, 155 kibbitzes, 75, 76, 117, 141 kippah, 67, 93 Klobuzk Ghetto (Poland), 111 Knoll, Mireille, 149 kosher households, 56, 97 Kovel, Poland, 112 Krakow, Poland, 41 Krakow Ghetto (Poland), 99 labor camps, 118. See also concentration camps Lambda, 56 Länder, Germany, 21, 23 languages, 51, 63; Hebrew, 64; learning, 53 laws, Jewish religious, 90 Leftists, 150 left-wing antisemitism, 32 left-wing radicals, 19 Lemberger, Tirza, 10, 97–102, 153 Le Pen, Jean-Marie, 127, 129 Lewis, Bernard, 33 LGBTQ (as a group), 35, 59 liberalism, 5, 72 Linz, Austria, 99

170 | Index Livni, Tzipi, 126 Lodz, Poland, 112 London, England, 143 Lycée français de Vienne, 5 Macron, Emmanuel, 129 Mansour, Ahmad, 151 Markovits, Andrei S., 17 Marr, Wilhelm, 25 Mashhad, Iran, 75 Mauthausen concentration camp, 4, 82, 99 Mein Kampf (Hitler), 107 memorials, Holocaust, 56. See also Yad Vashem Mertins, Silke, 149 modern day antisemitism, 4–5 modernism, 16 Moghadam, Ofer, 75–80 monitoring agencies, 19 Morocco, 112 Moscow, Russia, 61, 63 Moshonov, Poland, 103, 107 Mossad (Israel), 79 Mosse, George, 27 motifs, antisemitism, 44 multiculturalism, 5 multiperspectivity, 11 Muslim-Arab new antisemitism, 34 Muslims, 33, 87, 122, 128, 145, 148 Muzicant, Ariel, 84 Nationaldemokratische Partei (NPD), 33 nationalism, 3, 15 nationalist Right, 33 National Socialists, 31, 62, 93, 97, 132 Nazi Germany, 62, 84, 85, 114; escapes from, 42; Secret State Police of, 81 Nazis, 15, 26, 29, 31, 78, 107; crimes of, 16; Judenstern, 32; neo-Nazi-parties, 129; Star of David (see Star of David) Nazism, 156 neologism, 25, 26 neo-Nazi-parties, 129, 156 Netanyahu, Benjamin, 66, 67 the Netherlands, 29 NetzDG, 20 new antisemitism in Europe, 30–36 New Right, 150 Nuremberg, Germany, 97, 98

Oettingen, Germany, 97 Office of Military Government, United States (OMGUS), 28 Orthodox Jews, 97 Orthodox Kehal-Israel community (Austria), 99 Oslo Peace Accords, 94 Others, 6, 25; antisemites as, 147–57 Palestine, 15, 20, 30, 55, 57, 86, 97, 103, 104, 112, 121, 125, 138, 152, 154 Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), 94 Paris, France, 118, 119, 126, 137 passion and Weltanschauung, 14 Passover, 63 Pearl, Daniel, 153 Pegida (Patriotic Europeans against the Islamization of the Occident), 49 Pew Research Center, 28 Pforzheim, Germany, 76, 77 philosemitism, 31 physical violence, 3 pink washing, 35 Plaszow concentration camp, 41 pogroms, 28 Poland, 3, 7, 29, 35, 41, 47, 105, 129, 130, 140; Bernovice, 104; concentration camps, 47; examples of antisemitism, 106; Klobuzk Ghetto, 111; Kovel, 112; Krakow Ghetto, 99; Lodz, 112; modern-day, 114; Moshonov, 103, 107; Przystain, 111; Warsaw, 55; Warsaw Ghetto, 103 politically motivated criminality (PMK), 19 politics: Israel, 10, 45, 52, 58–59, 65, 66–67, 79, 87, 94, 109, 115, 122, 131, 138, 145 Populist Party National Front (Front National), 127 Poznań, Poland, 136 prejudice, 3, 50; and antisemitism, 27–30. See also antisemitism profile of interviewees, 6–8 The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, 17 Przystain, Poland, 111 Rabin, Itzhak, 94 race, Jews as a, 27

Index | 171 racism, 10, 14, 26, 29, 50, 101, 122, 145, 149; groups and, 109, 115–16; hierarchies of, 106 radicalism: left-wing, 19; right-wing, 18 radical Left, 33 Red Army, 62 refugees, 9, 94, 95 Report of the Commission of Experts (2017), 30, 35 Report of the Independent Commission of Experts on Antisemitism (2017), 28 reports on antisemitism (Germany), 13– 14, 17–21; recommendations, 21–23. See also antisemitism; Germany research, antisemitism, 18 Research and Information Office on Antisemitism (RIAS), 19 right-wing extremism, 16 right-wing radicalism, 18 Rochow, Stefan, 33 role of Israel (antisemitism), 137, 144 Roma, 57, 73, 94, 138 Romania, 90, 91, 112, 117 Russia, 28, 61, 63, 134. See also Soviet Union

Salzborn, Samuel, 4, 28 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 14 Scholl, Sophie, 151 Schwarz-Friesel, Monika, 3 secondary antisemitism, 29, 36 Second Temple, destruction of, 85 Second World War, 41, 89, 90, 98, 114, 127 Secret State Police of Nazi Germany, 81 secularization, 25 Semites, 26 September 11, 2001, 15, 16, 151; antisemitism after, 17 Shabbat Kiddush, 56 Shek, Daniel, 124–33, 154 Shklarek, Rafael, 81–88, 148 Shoah, 14, 31, 36, 48, 93, 105, 133; denial of existence of, 16 Sinti, 57, 73, 94, 138 Social Democratic Party, 32 Soviet Union, 62 Star of David, 4, 32, 67, 119, 134 stereotypes, 4, 50, 64, 77, 123

stigmatization, 150 Stockholm Declaration of the International Holocaust Forum of 29 January 2000, 30 subtle antisemitism, 50 suicide bombers, 154 Summer Olympics (1972), 86 supermarkets, 152 Sutter-Schreiber, Shimrit, 69–74 Syria, 20, 34, 86 teachers, 59. See also education Technical University (Berlin, Germany), 18 Tehran, Iran, 75, 76 Tel Aviv, Israel, 48, 55, 64, 76, 104, 126, 136, 137 terrorism, 95, 120, 151; antisemitism after, 17; in Europe, 16; Islamist terror attacks (9/11), 15, 16 Third Reich, 26, 30. See also Nazis Thurnherr, Armin, 84 tolerance, learning, 45 Toronto, Canada, 63 trends of antisemitism, 14–17 Tunisia, 117 Turkey, 20 Ukraine, 61 umma (community), 16 United Kingdom (UK), 130 United Nations (UN), 123 United States of America, 34, 113, 130 University of Vienna, 99 USIsrael, 17 vandalism, 111 Vichy Government, 132 Vienna, Austria, 81, 82, 93 Vienna International School, 83 violence, 3 Vranitzky, Franz, 85 Wales, 140, 141 Warsaw, Poland, 55 Warsaw Ghetto (Poland), 103 Weltanschauung, passion and, 14 Western Europe, 29. See also Europe Wistrich, Robert, 34 Wolffsohn, Michael, 32

172 | Index World Holocaust Remembrance Center Yad Vashem, 86, 132 World War I. See First World War World War II. See Second World War xenophobia, 49, 132 Yad Vashem, 86, 132 Yemen, 55 Yom Kippur, 48, 63, 104, 118, 147

youpin, 128 Youth Aliyah, 70, 76 Zelman, Leon, 84 Zimmermann, Moshe, 3, 4 Zionism, 29, 30, 34, 35, 51, 55, 85, 90, 103, 107, 112, 120, 124, 125, 130, 149 ZOG (Zionist Occupied Governments), 17