German Intellectuals’ Dangerous Choice of Athens over Jerusalem

April 15 2019

In a German-language book whose title translates as Moses and Homer: Greeks, Jews, Germans: A Different History of German Culture, the historian Berndt Witte examines the ways great German thinkers from the late 18th century onward idolized ancient Greek civilization. While the subject—what one British writer in 1935 dubbed “the tyranny of Greece over Germany”—is nothing new, Witte’s argument that this Hellenophilism went hand in hand with a rejection of Judaism, and ultimately the Jews, is indeed new. Steven Aschheim writes in his review:

Goethe, Schiller, Hegel, Herder, and [others] valorized Grecian ideals as part of their modernizing zeal, while attacking the God of Judaism and Christianity. But, Witte argues, because Christianity was supported by state power, their rhetorical onslaught was concentrated on Judaism. Under the rubric of ancient polytheism, these thinkers promulgated the worship of the cosmic forces of “Nature” and set the autonomous person—typically in the form of the conquering warrior—as their crowning ideal.

Homeric history, Witte asserts, is one of murder, war, and death. Positing society as a ruthless site of struggle, German Hellenophiles promoted a worldview that increasingly suppressed the Judaic affirmation of God-created life and the proscription, “Thou shalt not kill.” In its place, they constructed a ruthless image of society. This, Witte argues, was the other side of the Enlightenment, and it left a deep mark on 20th-century German culture.

Although warning that this argument lends itself to exaggeration—can Nazism really be blamed on the 18th-century archaeologist and art historian Johann Joachim Winckelmann?—Aschheim finds much to praise in this book.

Witte . . . draws our attention to the fact that Jewish chosenness came to be represented [by Witte’s subjects] as a kind of arrogant and aggressive separatism—a cunning move whereby the victims were transformed into putative perpetrators. Even more challengingly, he suggests that there was a kind of ironic interdependence between the Jewish and German notions of the Chosen People. German racists often borrowed from the Jewish example in a kind of perverse usurpation. Thus, Hitler himself invoked a distorted Judaism, writing that “no one knows better than the Jew” about blood purity.

I believe that a subtle, unstated, scholarly polemic runs underneath the text of Homer and Moses with regard to these issues. . . . [I]t seems to me that the entire work stands as an intriguing refutation of the famous German Egyptologist and cultural theorist Jan Assmann’s most provocative thesis. Assmann has argued that it is precisely the “Mosaic distinction”—between the one “true” God and “false” religion—that stands at the root of Western “conflict, intolerance, and violence,” whereas ancient polytheism rendered different cultures mutually compatible. Some have read Assmann as arguing that because Jews initiated the “first distinction” and have been resented for it ever since, they may have been, in some sense, partly responsible for the ghastly fate that overtook them.

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More about: Ancient Greece, Anti-Semitism, Germany

Who Changed the Term “Nakba” into a Symbol of Arab Victimization?

April 19 2019

In contemporary Palestinian discourse, not to mention that of the Palestinians’ Western supporters, the creation of the state of Israel is known as the Nakba, or catastrophe—sometimes explicitly compared with the Holocaust. The very term has come to form a central element in a narrative of passive Palestinian suffering at Jewish hands. But when the Syrian historian Constantin Zureiq first used the term with regard to the events of 1948, he meant something quite different, and those responsible for changing its meaning were none other than Israelis. Raphael Bouchnik-Chen explains:

In his 1948 pamphlet The Meaning of the Disaster (Ma’na al-Nakba), Zureiq attributed the Palestinian/Arab flight to the stillborn pan-Arab assault on the nascent Jewish state rather than to a premeditated Zionist design to disinherit the Palestinian Arabs. “We [Arabs] must admit our mistakes,” [he wrote], “and recognize the extent of our responsibility for the disaster that is our lot.” . . . In a later book, The Meaning of the Catastrophe Anew, published after the June 1967 war, he defined that latest defeat as a “Nakba,” . . . since—just as in 1948—it was a self-inflicted disaster emanating from the Arab world’s failure to confront Zionism. . . .

It was only in the late 1980s that it began to be widely perceived as an Israeli-inflicted injustice. Ironically, it was a group of politically engaged, self-styled Israeli “new historians” who provided the Palestinian national movement with perhaps its best propaganda tool by turning the saga of Israel’s birth upside down, with aggressors turned into hapless victims, and vice-versa, on the basis of massive misrepresentation of archival evidence.

While earlier generations of Palestinian academics and intellectuals had refrained from exploring the origins of the 1948 defeat, the PLO chairman Yasir Arafat, who was brought to Gaza and the West Bank as part of the 1993 Oslo Accords and was allowed to establish his Palestinian Authority (PA) in parts of those territories, grasped the immense potential of reincarnating the Nakba as a symbol of Palestinian victimhood rather than a self-inflicted disaster. In 1998, he proclaimed May 15 a national day of remembrance of the Nakba. In subsequent years, “Nakba Day” has become an integral component of the Palestinian national narrative and the foremost event commemorating their 1948 “catastrophe.”

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More about: Arab World, Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, New historians, Yasir Arafat