Henry Ebel:
Being Jewish

 

Where and when I grew up, my German‑Jewish father and Polish-Jewish mother made no bones about it. They didn’t even have to read David Riesman on “other‑direction” to instruct me in the most basic social commandments:

 

I.         Thou shalt have no consistent or coherent “self.”

II.        All values are entirely mutable, and dependent on social circumstance.

III.       The anxieties you feel from moment to moment with respect to public opinion are therefore the sole lords of existence.

IV.      Their mandates must be unswervingly obeyed.

V.       The resulting sense of paranoid persecution – caused by so rigorous a suppression of the personal feelings – shall be consistently attributed to a failure to observe the preceding IV commandments.

VI.       It is alright to murder,

VII.      it is alright to commit adultery,

VIII.     it is alright to steal,

IX.       it is alright to bear false witness,

X.       and it is alright above all to be in a state of drooling, hostile covetousness, provided only that these actions and sentiments occur within a social framework which implies approval.

 

The whole point and purpose of life, therefore, was Getting Away With It, to which primary joy my parents sang hymns of truly religious intensity.

Since public opinion was all that really mattered, there was no such thing as a “sin.” Which outlook coexisted with a lifestyle dominated by an overpowering sense of personal culpability.

Now, it is my personal conviction that my parents were extreme – or perhaps not‑so‑extreme – variations on the theme called Being Jewish. By this I mean that the anti‑social theories they preached within our four walls bore little relation to their actual practices, but were more in the nature of assignments that they were handing out to their children, whose life‑task it was to in some way avenge their own humiliations.

Since the children would be the inheritors of both anti‑social theory and rigidly conformist practice, they in turn would be tempted to use their own children as symbolic receptacles for the violent hostility it was flatly forbidden to act out.

And so on and so on through the generations, till at last the burden of so much symbolism would be too much to bear, and a theater would be found – if not on the banks of the Rhine or the Hudson, then on the banks of the Jordan – where the material could finally be acted out.

But the theme called Being Jewish deserves some additional psychohistorical exploration, as you will realize when you note that the mere proposal to explore it has already set up in you a spasm of resistance.

Let me try to explain why you are feeling this way.

Ever since Greco‑Roman times, those who maintain the “Jewish” identity have been in a state of negative symbiosis with respect to the larger number, who do not. The intensity of this negative symbiosis could be guessed at simply from a dry recital of the most elementary data concerning the resulting persecutions.

In a negative social symbiosis of any kind, there are really only two roles available to the participants: (1) for the majority, a periodic expression of feeling so obviously unjust as to require, once the deed is done, a particular form of psychopathic amnesia; and (2) for the minority, a continuous suppression of feeling, which serves to intensify fantasies of revenge that are never therapeutically ventilated.

Once these two roles have been set going, they establish what amounts to a stable or an escalating dynamic. The majority being haunted by the memory of their past victims, they must – as a form of ex post facto justification – focus intently on every hint which implies that the surviving members of the minority are entertaining revenge fantasies.

They must do this, that is, to the extent and in the ways permitted by their psychopathic amnesia; and much of this detective work will therefore take place at semi‑conscious or unconscious levels of reasoning. In turn, mental activities of this kind will lay the groundwork for a renewed bout of persecution once the accumulated examples of the minority’s hostility have begun to outweigh the guilt felt about the previous onslaught. And since psychopathic amnesia is a way of avoiding the confrontation with one’s guilt, persecution always tends to recur much sooner than anyone would have believed possible.

The reason that you feel such resistance to a discussion of this subject can therefore be broken down into two major sub‑categories:

(1) If you are not Jewish, then you are acutely sensitive to the amount of guilt that has magically accumulated after more than 2000 years of such maniac onslaughts, none of them commensurate with any antecedent legal offense.

(2) If you are Jewish, you feel equally threatened by (a) the fact that an appropriate vengeance for such a quantity of injustice could only be the destruction of the entire planet, and (b) the awareness that anger at such levels of intensity, even if it remains unexpressed, could conceivably get you killed. 

There is, however, yet another psychohistorical aspect to Being Jewish which can be said to subsume all those I have already named. To make it clear, I must first call your attention to the fact that most of our ethical thinking takes place under the rubric of a category called Reparation, and that Reparation, in turn, is deeply connected with the areas called Order, Logic, System, and Justice.

For example, there is a perennial human tendency to interpret a disaster as having a good side to it, and a complementary tendency to insist that an apparent stroke of luck includes a number of serious disadvantages: too much of anything is experienced by the human mind as a threat to an unspoken axiom having to do with balance – what we might call a form of double‑entry bookkeeping applied to the moral realm, which lays the emotional basis for systems of law, with their long lists of specific counter‑balancing (reparatory) punishments.

This profound vein of moral reasoning has been coded into a great number of human myths which teach, essentially, that even the most horrifying disasters are blessings in disguise, and that the human being who actively gloats in his triumph is standing on the brink of disaster.

As in the most admired of classical, Shakespearean, and modern tragedies, we sense that the universe is struggling through the medium of the protagonists to achieve homeostasis in which “just deserts” are dispensed to all concerned – the proud put down, the agonized victim rewarded.

This deep urge for homeostatic balance will be found in the Oedipus Colonus, the Bacchae of Euripides, the Oresteia (which terminates in a veritable orgy of compensations), King Lear, and in virtually all of the work of Ibsen – as well, of course, as the parables of Jesus and the whole of the Divine Comedy.

The centrality of the idea of Reparation in human thinking implies that an apparent contradiction of the idea, especially one maintained for long periods of time, will be experienced as commensurately threatening. Indeed, it will be experienced as inconceivable, and the human mind, willy‑nilly, will invent a reparatory fantasy even if it flies in the face of logic.

This, essentially, is what the human race has done with the phenomenon called Being Jewish. And the core of the fantasy is summed up in the idea of “Jewish blood.”

For those who despise its least presence within the human body, “Jewish blood” is a quintessential deadly poison. For those who insist that it is an ennobling elixir, “Jewish blood” is equally noteworthy, and its bearers equally deserving of attention.

Thus, “Jewish blood” will be seen to partake simultaneously of all‑bad and all‑good qualities, requiring that it either be exterminated or lovingly preserved.

Such qualities of “specialness” will be familiar to the historian of religion from the institution called sacrifice. On the one hand, sacrifice always has an apotropaic overtone, in which what is being done to the sacrificial object is being averted from the person or persons who are destroying it: hence the common practice of sacrificing either to avert or overcome a disaster, or to thank God for an act of healing or personal salvation.

The sacrificial object is thus a victim, receiving the bad luck that its sacrificers have been spared. On the other hand, that which is sacrificed must have real value – must be something loved and desirable. Hence the detailed specifications of Leviticus, which seek to exclude the use for sacrificial purposes of anything in the least blemished and hence symbolically devalued.

The sacrificial object is therefore both extremely “bad,” as a vehicle for our sins, and extremely “good,” as an object we are normally reluctant to part with. It is typically parted with, therefore, in an ecstasy of renunciation; and where this blissful mood is lacking, as in the sacrifice of Cain, one is likely to suspect that the sacrifice has not been “accepted.”

It may be objected at this point that the parallel between the periodic sacrifice of Jews and the former sacrifices of animals and produce is an inaccurate one. The all‑good and all‑bad qualities of the animal sacrifice are being felt simultaneously by the single individual doing the sacrificing. On the other hand, the all‑bad qualities of “Jewish blood” are being experienced by the murderous anti‑Semite, while its all‑good qualities are those being stressed by Jews and philo‑Semitic non‑Jews.

This objection loses validity, however, once we inquire into the actual dynamics of persecution. For example, all students of the Holocaust have marvelled over the extent to which the Nazis were willing to override even the most pressing military considerations in order to make certain that they destroyed every bearer of “Jewish blood” they could put their hands on. However paradoxical it may seem, “Jewish blood” was exceptionally precious to them; the value, the meaning they attached to it, can be gauged from the herculean efforts they made to destroy it. Its negative value to them mirrored the positive value it had and has for those who see its bearers, through all the centuries, as recipients of a unique divine purpose.

Just as the Nazis saw a “curse” inside the “blessing,” so it is possible to detect, inside the “blessing,” something very much like a “curse.” Jewish humor, for example, as much as the humor of Goebbels, puts much of its emphasis on “Jewish blood” as the inheritance one cannot shake, as in the many jokes about Jews who rise to high position and either wittingly – as a revenge for having to “pass” – or unwittingly – as a punishment for having aspired in the first place – betray their Jewishness.

The common denominator in these dialectical patterns lies in the tabooed specialness of “Jewish blood,” which serves to bring the history of the shedding of that blood within the sphere of Reparation. This in turn serves to assure both Jew and non‑Jew that Order has not been exterminated along with the Jewish victims.

  

Some consequences of being taboo

Diurnal good breeding prevents most people from actually telling you to your face that the drop of “Jewish blood” in your veins is quite possibly your passport to a horrible death. But my mother and father had undergone circumstances which made it rather obvious that the red ichor in Jewish arteries is a potent historical beverage – that it carries inside itself an intense negative valence based on the fact that it has so often been shed with complete impunity.

My parents were convinced that everybody wanted them dead – a “paranoid” point of view that seemed quite syntonic with the realities of 1939‑1945 – and the “double bind” described in the opening paragraphs of this essay was the natural result.

Now we can begin to overcome some of our initial anxieties and to ask ourselves what is meant, at the deeper levels, by Being Jewish.

Being Jewish means never to be too surprised when they take your beautiful children and murder them before your eyes just to cause you the maximum amount of pain.

Everything else is just the same as it always was. The blue sky is full of fleecy white clouds. The village church smiles in the distance. And there, in a mess of blood, is all that’s left of your pride and joy, whose executioners leer at your distress. Nor do the nations of the world ever become quite “civilized” enough to stop generating delegate‑groups willing to enact that scene on their behalf.

Now your anxieties are very high again. That is because you have been told the truth.

Which truth my parents understood, because they had been forced to understand it.

Which truth you find unbearable, because you know mainly the world of documents and photographs, neither of which can, by definition, tell us the most important things, all of which exist in the realm of the underlying philosophy.

My parents’ philosophy was one of catastrophic pessimism. The future seemed unbearably threatening, the past a long series of missed opportunities, while the horrid present, in which alone disaster can occur, was effectively sealed off from consciousness by obedience to the mandates of others – compulsive social and theological rituals flung in despair at the juggernaut called Death, which had no use for them.

My parents were just having the normal reaction to finding themselves hanging head‑down from a hook in the slaughterhouse, whose employees make hilarious jokes while they cut your throat. An awareness that could be brought under partial control – to the point at which it did not instantly drive you mad – by creating the State of Israel, to whose prickly bosom one can, if necessary, flee. Where they actually have laws saying that it is absolutely forbidden to kill Jews.

  

Why Israelis can’t seem to stop

 Now comes the really hard part.

Being Jewish, and therefore utterly tabooed by the blood in your uniquely precious/horrible veins, is obviously the world’s worst historical trauma. It means that you are indelibly related to the ethnic group which the world has selected out to embody, in allegorical form, the principle of complete rejection.

It means that under normal social circumstances, there is an awareness hanging in the air which whispers with a demonic ambiguity: “Jewish, eh? Why, under only slightly altered historical conditions, that would make you an emaciated, grinning corpse.”

And at the unconscious level, where there are no “woulds” – where every hypothesis is experienced as an emotional reality – that means that Being Jewish is Being Dead. It means that Good Times are when all the others are temporarily on vacation from the role of executioner.

The stable negative symbiosis between Jews and non‑Jews can now be summarized in the following terms: For non‑Jews, it amounts to a line of reasoning that says:

“Since you have been treated horribly, you deserve it. Running through your veins there is an essence of non‑being – of culpable inauthenticity – that makes your annihilation appropriate. You are ‘there’ in a certain sense, yet not ‘there’ in terms of the deeper harmonies that give things and events their existential propriety. Therefore your disappearance leaves no ghosts behind to haunt us; there is no curse upon us for simply taking, and adapting to our own purposes, the artifacts left behind when you have gone your way.”

To which there is a standard Jewish reply:

“The fact that you are saying those things implies pretty clearly that you are haunted. What you have done to us shows that your virtuous pretensions are fraudulent and that you, as a matter of fact, have no historical ‘standing’ at all. Given the fact that you have annihilated your own significance by not feeling confident about it – by having to persecute those who refuse to accept it – it seems perfectly plausible that it is we rather than you who are right about the things that really matter.”

 In other words, the roles of “Jew” and “non‑Jew” represent ongoing crises of confidence for each other. When one rises, the other will be seen to decline; when one of them falters, the alternative will seem – in an almost magical way – to be gaining confidence in itself.  

It is impossible to understand this remarkable mechanism, however, without returning to its origins in the Synoptic Gospels, which are summed up by the notorious reply the mob gives to Pilate, in the Gospel of Matthew, when Pilate is reluctant to crucify Jesus: “His blood be on us and on our children.”

The Gospels are structured in the form of a historical wager, centered on the question of whether Jesus was what he claimed to be or a complete fraud. And this world‑historical bet is given its pungency by the obvious latitude for belief or disbelief implied by the circumstances of Christ’s resurrection.

As the very early Gospel of Mark makes clear, there was no one about when Jesus ostensibly rose from the grave; even the women who first enter the tomb, only to find him gone, react not with joy or faith but with terror.

Moreover, the Gospel of Mark originally ended on just this note of doubt and uncertainty – all the passages that carry more positive messages were added at some later time.

Thus, the Gospels themselves set the stage for the subsequent malignant dialogue between Jew and non‑Jew, in which the very being of the former represents a challenge to the being of the latter; and vice versa. One or the other must be right; one role or the other, runs the fantasy they both share, must be the authentic one (which should not preclude the possibility that they are both wrong).

Historically, therefore, Jew and non‑Jew represent dynamic tasks for each other. Each is eternally proving something to its antagonist. And both look forward to the future time when the proof will be, so to speak, final – a messianic conclusion that will represent a definitive revelation as to which of the two gamblers made the right choice.

Until that future final moment is reached, each of the two parties is condemned, in a basic sense, to keep “pushing;” both feel the implied pressure, on even the circumstances of everyday life, of the drama that has historically set the terms of their existence.

Nor does this apply only to those who have taken an activist stance in religious matters. Unconsciously, all of us are aware of our ethnicities – and of their historical implications – at every moment. And where those implications have to do with the very meaning of history, we can legitimately be seen as living out our lives inside them.

This omnipresent consciousness helps to explain, among other things, why anti‑Semitic persecution can be renewed after seeming to go into almost complete abeyance. Renewed persecution inevitably coincides with a renewed search for meaning in history; and this search is so chronically a part of the Western character – for Jews as well as non‑Jews – that the resumption of the persecutory mode is truly inevitable. 

*

 Though this may all seem very abstract, its practical consequences can be traced out, in an extremely revealing way, in recent history and even in our daily newspapers.

All those who have studied the Nazi movement are aware – cannot help but be aware – of its apocalyptic dynamic, its inability to stop.

Nazism was a goal‑ridden and distinctly messianic political event, and Hitler’s speeches and table‑talk are riddled with observations that imply, or say explicitly, that he regards himself as the one who will carry out the mandates contained in the Gospels and in the history of Christianity.

One should not allow oneself to be misled, here, by the fact that the Nazis, obviously with Hitler’s sanction, showed occasional hostility to the established Christian churches. Hitler’s contempt for Christian practice lay in the fact that it was not Christian enough. He himself, from his own point of view, was the only one to take seriously the idea of an apocalyptic conflict that could only end with the establishment of a messianic kingdom, which in turn could only be accomplished following the elimination of those whose very being suggested that such a goal, under Christian auspices, was meaningless.

Hitler saw himself, in other words, as both a servant and a reincarnation of Christ, as can be seen by comparing Christ’s statement that “my words will never pass away” with Hitler’s famous “Jeder meiner Wörter sind historisch.”

The defeat of the Third Reich – given the extent to which much of the world shared in Hitler’s fantasies – was therefore perceived as a defeat for a particular kind of Christian meaning. Hitler had drawn so heavily on Christian theological concepts that his downfall seemed to carry Christianity along with it. And between 1945 and 1948, the world as a whole underwent a remarkable transition.

In 1944, an opinion survey taken in the United States found that Americans regarded Jews as far more of a threat to America than either the Germans or the Japanese, with whom they only happened to be at war. In that year, too, the destruction of the Jews of Hungary served to illustrate the extent to which the Allied powers approved of Hitler’s anti‑Semitic program.

Only a few years after Hitler’s defeat, however, there took place – with varying degrees of cooperation from the Soviet Union, the United States, and the European powers – the creation of the State of Israel. Underlying all the so‑called “political” determinants of that event was an abrupt flow of sympathy with its historical, messianic overtones – a counter‑messianism, in effect, that represented the dialectical alternative to that which had gone temporarily bankrupt under Hitler. For the first time since the Christianization of the Roman Empire, much of the world seemed willing to place its bets on the Jewish side of the gambling table.

As this implies, the historical drama that has so obsessed the Western mind is far from over, for it can end only with history itself. The fashionable anti‑Zionism of the late 60’s and early 70’s was already a sign that the failure of Zionist messianism had inaugurated a new swing of the historical pendulum. Israel had turned out to be “just another country,” and was therefore perceived – in the collective fantasy – as having experienced a bankruptcy comparable to Hitler’s: hence the gleeful New Left equation between Zionism and Nazism, whose emotional core eluded those who so apopleptically denounced it.

At the magical level that dominates our thinking – for which most of our rationality is a compensation – power was flowing away from Being Jewish and back to the alternative mode with which Being Jewish is incompatible. Reverend Moon was now able to restate the claim that Jews carried a unique collective guilt for having failed to acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah, and the claim did not prevent him from making a substantial number of Jewish converts.

In Israel, in the 50’s and 60’s, an anti‑Zionist note was fashionable, and caused a good deal of concern among the nation’s leaders. Younger Israelis did not want to hear about the sufferings of the Jews and their own role as a dynamic compensation for it; some of their comments to this effect even carried anti‑Semitic overtones.

In the late 60’s and early 70’s, just as the Western nations began to withdraw from their previous investment in Zionist messianism, this situation began to change. Radical religious groups like the Gush Emunim appeared, laying claim to all the territories settled by the Hebrews following the Exodus from Egypt. Regarded initially as “kooks,” these groups achieved real political power following the election of Menachem Begin. It seems doubtful that their settlement efforts on the West Bank of the Jordan could be undone, even if Begin’s political opponents return to power.

Zionism is back, in other words, and in a form that carries sharper and more aggressive connotations than the older variety. The messianic “failure” represented by the normalization of the Israeli state has proven as much of a challenge to Jews as to non‑Jews. The latter have reacted by a psychological withdrawal of their original ideological investment; the former by reinventing Zionism in a form that looks back to the original conquest of Canaan under Joshua.

As non‑Jews swing away from the philo‑Semitic position that was popular in the 50’s and early 60’s, they hive off “sects” and “cults” like the Unification Church of Reverend Moon, which suggest – once again – that Jews are culpable for having failed to place their bet on the correct side of the table, and for continually suggesting – by their very being – that others should join them in a wager directed against the authenticity of Jesus.

No longer willing to meet the New Testament on its own chronological ground, Jews reach back 1500 years further to the period when their own historical identity was first formed, to the dramatic conflict in the course of which they imposed their will on the various Canaanite groups – recast, now, as Arabs.

But nationalistic reassertion of this kind is unlikely to gain the support of other nations. At the same time, the character of the historical dialogue between the two parties to the original wager has been such as to preclude the possibility of rational discussion in a neutral middle‑ground. The “statements” by either side, whether they take verbal or non‑verbal form, are typically overdetermined or are experienced as overdetermined by those on the other side.

From the point of view of those actually occupying various sites on the West Bank, criticism is perceived as theological rather than political in its implications, as coming from the world of satanic anti-Semitism, whose roots lie deep in Christianity and in the Christian vision of Jews as inauthentic negations of God’s purpose.

From the point of view of a growing number of people in the Western nations, the Israelis squatting on the rocky hilltops of the West Bank, and commuting each day to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, are bizarre and desperate people with whom empathy is impossible – and whose tacit support by their government and their foreign co‑religionists is opening the door to the archaic scenario of hatred and persecution.

The result is a steady “upping of the ante” by the Israelis, and an equally steady diminution of the resistance to anti‑Semitism formed by many non‑Jews in the years following 1945.

The bet is still on. Being Jewish is as dangerous a sport as ever.

 

"Being Jewish" was originally published in the Journal of Psychohistory, summer 1980, and is an excerpt from Henry Ebel: Jews, Germans and Other Disasters, Bias Bok, 2004.

 

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