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This chapter looks at Palestinian doctors’ interactions with their Jewish counterparts as both a political and a professional rivalry. Jewish doctors treated Arab patients, and Jewish and Arab doctors worked together in government institutions, shared clinics, consulted each other, and fought common enemies of morbidity and mortality on the same land. The chapter examines Jewish-Arab interdependency and rivalry, bringing forward its articulations in the Arab and Hebrew press while underlining the effects of intercommunal violence on this encounter and attempts at direct cooperation. At the heart of this chapter is the mass migration of German-Jewish doctors to Palestine following the Nazi takeover, and the ways in which it affected relationships within the medical profession.
This chapter examines a group of anticolonial and anti-imperialist intellectuals of different political persuasions thinking on Palestinian anticolonial national liberation at key moments in Palestinian history. It argues that central to these thinkers in their analysis of Palestine is a collapse in distinction between 1948- and 1967-occupied Palestine in Zionist settler-colonial ambitions in Palestine; the umbilical relationship between Zionism and US–Euro imperialism; as well as the centrality of Arab ruling classes to Zionist hegemony in Palestine.
The Holocaust is now widely recognized as a central event in twentieth-century Europe. But how did the genocide of the Jews affect European attitudes towards Jews, Judaism and Jewishness after 1945? While many histories of antisemitism exist, Good Jews offers an investigation of philosemitism – defined as a politics of post-Holocaust friendship. Gerard Daniel Cohen presents a critical exploration of the languages of philosemitism in mainstream European politics and culture from 1945 to the present day, with particular emphasis on Germany and France. Within this framework Cohen explores how the 'Jewish question', or the problem of Jewish difference and incorporation in Western countries during the postwar decades, has been distinctively foregrounded in the language of philosemitism. Ultimately, Good Jews demonstrates that philosemitic Europe is not an idealised love story, but a reflection of European attitudes towards Jews from the Holocaust to the present.
Palestinian doctors became a dynamic, vocal, influential, and fascinating professional community over the first half of the twentieth century, growing from roughly a dozen on the eve of World War I to 300 in 1948. This study examines the social history of this group during the late Ottoman and British Mandate periods, examining their social and geographic origins, their professional academic training outside Palestine, and their role and agency in the country's medical market. Yoni Furas and Liat Kozma examine doctors' interactions with the rural and urban society and their entangled relationship with the British colonial administration and Jewish doctors. This book also provides an in-depth description of how Palestinian doctors thought and wrote about themselves and their personal, professional, and collective ambitions, underlining the challenges they faced while attempting to unionize. Furas and Kozma tell Palestine's story through the acts and challenges of these doctors, writing them back into the local and regional history.
How should Jewish settlers live in the new environment? This question preoccupied early Zionist professionals, seeking to employ science in the service of Jewish “acclimatization.” This article focuses on the work of a specific man of science: nutrition scholar Moshe Wilbushewich, who lived and worked in Palestine since 1924 until his death in 1952. Much of Wilbushewich’s work in the interwar period was devoted to investigating the question, how to compensate for the physical inferiority of Jewish- compared to Arab workers, through nutrition and psychotechnics. As a scholar of nutrition, he performed scientific analyses of ingredients and dishes from the Palestinian kitchen and encouraged Jewish settlers to adopt some of them to make their nutrition more adjusted to the conditions of the land, and hence more “rational.” As I show, although Zionist experts embraced an environmental approach to “revitalizing” Jewish bodies, their perceptions were nonetheless shaped by assumptions about racial difference and hierarchy– between Arabs and Jews, and between Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews.
Who was God for Schoenberg? And what did Schoenberg believe was the necessary human response? Schoenberg’s spiritual and intellectual path was long and winding, often iconoclastic, shaped by antisemitism and personal losses, and always characterized by a deeply personal quest for a transcendent truth – an Ideal or Idea [Gedanke] – that was at the same time intuitively known but inexpressible by human means. The path ultimately led him to a passionate Zionism, an unshakeable belief in ‘one, eternal, all-powerful, invisible and unrepresentable God’, and a corresponding ascetic spirituality that survived both inward anguish and political persecution.
The chapter explores the meanings of the word “philosemitism” before the Holocaust (late nineteenth century to 1945) and since then. It states the book’s main argument: the valorization of Jews in European liberalism from the Holocaust to the present. The chapter also includes a discussion of the existing literature on philosemitism.
Islamophobic and anti-immigrant parties in the European Union also found benefits in philosemitism. Postwar Europe had until then resisted Judeo-Christian civilizational discourse, but Islamophobia precipitated this conversion. The antisemites of yesterday, joined by culturally progressive “Enlightenment fundamentalists,” yearned for a Jewish-Christian alliance against “Islamo-fascism” and Muslim immigrants. Muscular Israel now symbolized Western resistance against Islam: For illiberal philosemites, the Jewish state showed weak liberal Europe the path to its survival. In Germany, “remembrance culture” hardened into a key symbol of national identity during the long Angela Merkel chancellorship (2005–21). In the Federal Republic, the nationalization of Holocaust memory translated into permanent alert against “imported” antisemitism, shielded the Holocaust from comparability, and affirmed Germany’s commitment to Israel’s security in the name of “reason of state.”
This chapter documents the mutation of the most preeminent form of non-Jewish defense of Jews since the late nineteenth century. From mere disapproval of prejudice, anti-antisemitism evolved in 1945 into a singular struggle against Jew-hatred. Leftist parties in liberated Western Europe continued to oppose antisemitism in the name of universal antiracism. But in Britain and France, anti-antisemite pioneers such as the Labour MP Richard Crossman, the Anglican scholar James Parkes, and above all the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, reframed antisemitism as a special ill – the problem of “contaminated” non-Jewish society. From London, George Orwell offered the first postwar critique of this view. To single out the Jew as “a species of animals different from ourselves,” he wrote, could only “make antisemitism more prevalent that it was before.” The Parisian thinker’s decisive contribution to “philosemitic Europe,” however, was to turn the “war on antisemitism” into a politics of pro-Jewish solidarity – a progressive stance also accepting of Zionism until 1967 and beyond.
This article poses a synthetic analytical approach to casing migratory projects that set out to effectuate a redistribution of power and resources: migration as contentious politics. Contentious migration is presented as an attempt by a collective to mobilize adequate political leverage to advance claims in the location of immigration through spatial relocation and demographic change. To demonstrate the analytical leverage of this approach, this article then conducts a case study of the under-examined Hechalutz settlement movement active in North America between 1905 and 1953, which facilitated the settler migration of American youth to rural agricultural colonies on the colonial frontiers of late-Ottoman and British Mandatory Palestine. It draws on extensive, original findings in colony and national archives, examining official movement publications, correspondences, emissary notes, meeting minutes and daily records from the training farms across North America, diaries, and obituaries. Through eventful analysis, the article explicates three salient mechanisms of the mobilization for contentious migration: (1) environmental (attributing political opportunity and threat); (2) relational (forging networks, as a proxy for diffusion and organizational cohesion); and (3) cognitive (devising resonant diagnostic, prognostic, and motivational framings).
Chapter I explores traditionally ‘non-hegemonic’ attributes as inherent to militarised masculinities in contemporary Israel, examining embodied compliance and submission to a higher order as a normalised means of ascending the ‘hierarchy of bodies’ that bolsters and undergirds the Zionist project from its outset. Exploring basic training, punishments, military hierarchy, friendship, camaraderie and death, I argue that the conscious performance of embodied submission (with enthusiastic consent) is as much valued within conscripted military masculinities as militarised domination in this context. Indeed, I suggest that the conscripted combat soldier – the archetypal national and masculine hero – must be both visibly dominant over the indigenous Palestinian ‘Other’, while simultaneously malleable and submissive to the goals of the Israeli state. As such, I explore both polarities of domination and submission as demanded within the parameters of idealised military masculinity – illustrating the gendered tensions that punctuate normative binaries in this militarised setting.
This chapter examines the legacy of the Holocaust in all dimensions of Israeli life. It considers the evolving policy landscape, including decisions regarding commemoration, education, and the prosecution of collaborators. It also traces the evolution of the cultural and political status of “survivors.” Initially, resistance fighters were treated as heroes, while ordinary survivors were viewed as passive weaklings unable to defend themselves. Both stances were part of a Zionist understanding of Israeli identity. Over time, especially in the 1960s with the Eichmann Trial and in the wake of the 1973 Yom Kippur war, a more nuanced, mournful view took hold that acknowledged the importance of survival itself as essential for Jewish identity in a precarious world.
The literature on Zionism as a political ideology is extensive, but this book takes a different approach by focusing on the cultural dimensions of the movement and their profound impact on the history of Israel and the Jewish people. New Hebrews explores the cultural history of Zionism, starting from the meeting of the first Zionist congress in Basel, Switzerland in 1897, and culminating with the establishment of the State of Israel fifty-one years later in 1948. Yaron Peleg explores how innovative approaches in language, literature, architecture, art, music, and body culture transformed modern Jewish culture. His study delves into the contentious facets of early Zionist culture, such as colonialism, social engineering, minority discourse, and Jewish-Arab relations. New Hebrews presents an interdisciplinary examination of nationalism, drawing from a diverse array of primary sources to uncover the psychology of modern Israel. This title is also available as open access on Cambridge Core.
This article discusses the ways the Palestinian struggle was perceived as part of regional and global networks that crystallised following the First World War, the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire, and the rise of mandatory authorities in the Middle East. It examines Palestinian disillusionment with the expectation that the principle of self-determination would serve as a basis for the creation of a new world political order and, in turn, in the dissolution of the world of the colonial authorities. It focuses, on one hand, on the ways in which the Rif War in Morocco (1921–6) and the great Syrian rebellion, which broke out in 1925, affected Palestinian national consciousness, and on the other hand, how these crises revealed the explicit identification of the Zionist movement with colonial forces. In the article I examine the representations of the uprisings in the contemporary Palestinian and Hebrew press as a basis for seeing the uprising as an important turning point, in terms of creating the Zionist separatist space and the strengthening of the alliance between the Zionist movement and the mandatory colonial rule and its identification with global colonial forces.
Zionists wanted to reshape Jewish culture in the spirit of modern nationalism. They based their national vision on Jewish history and Jewish tradition but gave both a thoroughly modern interpretation. Instead of hiding their difference to ease their assimilation into the greater, non-Jewish society, they emphasized Jewish difference by giving it a distinct cultural character. They began by writing modern literature in Hebrew, their ancient language, and eventually turned Hebrew into a spoken language, the vernacular of their emerging national community. They organized the land they bought and settled in Palestine in new ways that expressed their revolutionary social and communal values and built new kinds of houses on it. Their new occupations as farmers, builders, and then soldiers reshaped their bodies, the clothes they wore, and the way the carried themselves. They renewed their festival calendar to celebrate and commemorate their innovations, and they developed new aesthetic sensibilities in visual art and music that expressed their cultural revolution in more abstract ways.
For nearly two centuries after the French Revolution, papal attitudes towards Judaism remained rooted in theological notions of the Jews as deicidal “others” whose salvation would only be achieved through repentance and conversion to Catholicism. Enlightenment notions of religious freedom and tolerance offered Jews an emancipation based on secular citizenship and assimilation, a development which repudiated the Church’s theological and eschatological views of Judaism. As a result, papal attitudes towards the Jews hardened through the nineteenth century, as popes associated emancipated Jews with liberalism, freemasonry, socialism, and democracy, the very ideologies which had undermined papal authority. It was not until the Second Vatican Council (1962–65) that the Church definitely repudiated its negation of the Abrahamic Covenant and the Jewish people. The council document Nostra aetate disavowed anti-Semitism in all forms and recognized Judaism as the wellspring from which the Church emerged, creating a template of interfaith kinship and cooperation which the modern papacy has embraced and expanded upon.
This chapter describes historical and contemporary advocacy and activism movements in Israel. The first of these movements was the push to revive the Hebrew language, transform it from a literate language into a vernacular, and make it a dominant and ideologically unifying tool for Jewish immigrants to Palestine (later Israel) throughout the twentieth century. Strong advocacy movements mobilized to achieve this goal, which eventually succeeded in achieving official status for the language from the British Mandate and forcing individuals to switch their home languages to Hebrew. While Hebrew is indeed a strong, vital and powerful force in Israel today, a new movement is taking place today whereby the language repertoires of individuals are being expanded, the home languages of immigrants are maintained and used, and a new multilingual educational policy is being developed and implemented. Descriptions of these advocacy movements and their activist workings will be analyzed in the context of the history of the nation.
This article examines Kazantzakis’ travel writing in his 1926 newspaper series on ‘the Land of Palestine’, which introduces Zionism, and in his posthumously published chapter ‘Jerusalem’ in Journeying (1961). Revisiting the relation between the two, I argue that each is to be seen as a distinct work. While free from the antisemitic sentiment of Venizelist circles, the Greek author's reportage has three important silences – and these are matched by a sweeping lack of scholarly interest in this material. This article hopes to generate renewed interest so that Kazantzakis’ 1926 reportage may help construe a more complex reception of Zionism in interwar Greece.
Is the history of emotions a methodology or a subject? What is the relationship between emotions and culture? What role does the body play in the human experience? Addressing these questions and more, this element emphasizes the often-overlooked role of emotional and sensory experiences when examining the Zionist experience in the early twentieth century. Focusing on the visceral and embodied historical aspects of the linguistic modernization of Hebrew, it argues that recent cultural studies on Jewish daily life in Palestine have reached an impasse, which the history of emotions could help us overcome. Interpreting Zionist texts not solely as symbolic myths but as a historical, lived experience, this element advocates for the significance of the history of emotions and experience as an innovative methodology with profound ethical implications for our polarized era.