A People between Languages

2012 ◽  
Vol 7 (2) ◽  
pp. 1-27 ◽  
Author(s):  
Guy Miron

The field of modern European Jewish history, as I hope to show, can be of great interest to those who deal with conceptual history in other contexts, just as much as the conceptual historical project may enrich the study of Jewish history. This article illuminates the transformation of the Jewish languages in Eastern Europe-Hebrew and Yiddish-from their complex place in traditional Jewish society to the modern and secular Jewish experience. It presents a few concrete examples for this process during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The article then deals with the adaptation of Central and Western European languages within the internal Jewish discourse in these parts of Europe and presents examples from Germany, France, and Hungary.

Author(s):  
Israel Bartal

This chapter assesses the 1863 Polish insurrection, which had significant echoes in the Jewish society of Eastern Europe. That community, dispersed throughout the diverse areas of the former Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, often found itself in a situation which recurred a number of times in 19th- and 20th-century Jewish history: between the hammer of the Empire and the anvil of the autochtonic nation aspiring for independence. Resolving the matter of which side to favour was often an urgent, concrete question. On the one hand, the Jews were faithful to a long tradition of loyalty to the Crown, a tradition which grew stronger in the decades preceding the Rebellion even in haskalah circles; on the other hand, the Polish nobility and broad strata in Eastern-European Jewish society had been closely associated for many generations, an association still very strong in the mid-19th century. Jewish memoirs offer many descriptions of the Jews' situation during the Polish uprisings against the Russian regime in 1831 and 1863. Those Jews who had drawn closer to Polish culture identified with the Polish objectives. The Polish side, however, demonstrated lack of faith in the Jews and oftentimes accused them of spying for the Russians.


An emphasis on education has long been a salient feature of the Jewish experience. Historians of the early modern and modern era frequently point to the centrality of educational institutions and pursuits within Jewish society, yet the vast majority treat them as merely a reflection of the surrounding culture. Only a small number note how schools and teachers could contribute in dynamic ways to the shaping of local communities and cultures. This volume addresses this gap in the portrayal of the Jewish past by presenting education as an active and potent force for change. It moves beyond a narrow definition of Jewish education by treating formal and informal training in academic or practical subjects with equal attention. In so doing, it sheds light not only on schools and students, but also on informal educators, youth groups, textbooks, and numerous other devices through which the mutual relationship between education and Jewish society is played out. It also places male and female education on a par with each other, and considers students of all ages, religious backgrounds, and social classes. The book spans two centuries of Jewish history, from the Austrian and Russian empires to the Second Republic of Poland and the Polish People’s Republic. It highlights the centrality of education in the vision of numerous Jewish individuals, groups, and institutions across eastern Europe, and the degree to which this vision interacted with forces within and external to Jewish society. In this way, the book highlights the interrelationship between Jewish educational endeavours, the Jewish community, and external economic, political, and social forces.


AJS Review ◽  
2005 ◽  
Vol 29 (2) ◽  
pp. 402-404
Author(s):  
Eliyana R. Adler

Several years ago I had the good fortune to meet Iris Parush, and I asked how she, a scholar of Hebrew literature known best for her interest in canon formation, turned to the topic of women readers in Eastern Europe. She explained that it was her work on the writer and critic David Frischmann that piqued her interest in the topic. The emotional and contradictory rhetoric of this refined thinker led Parush to embark on an enormous and important research project.


2020 ◽  
Vol 31 (1) ◽  
pp. 52-64
Author(s):  
Israel Bartal

This article presents some of the personal observations of a veteran Israeli scholar whose long-years' encounters with the 'real' as well as the 'imagined' eastern Europe have shaped his historical research. As an Israeli-born historian of Polish-Ukrainian origin, (the so-called 'second generation') he claims to share an ambivalent attitude towards his countries of origin with other fellow- historians. Jewish emigrants from eastern Europe have been until very late in the modern era members of an old ethno-religious group. One ethnos out of many in a diverse multi-ethnic environment, whose demographic core survived and flourished for centuries in the old places. Several decades of social, economic, and political upheavals exposed the Jewish population to drastic changes. These changes lead several intellectuals who left their home countries to look back at what have happened as both involved actors, and distant observers. Israeli historians of east European origin found themselves confronted with a crucial question: in what way the past in the Old Country connected (if at all) to the history of Israel. Following some 40 years of academic career in the field of eastern European Jewish history, it is claimed that until the collapse of the Soviet Union, the image of eastern Europe that runs through the Israeli historical research has been shaped in large part by members of the different generations of emigrants, outside of eastern Europe. The renewed direct contact after 1989 caused a dramatic change: within a few years, Israeli historians were examining archives and libraries throughout eastern Europe. After seven decades of isolation between the Israeli historian and the primary sources necessary to his/her research in the archives, the new wave of documents was celebrated in Israeli Universities. Yet far more influential was the revolution prompted in 1989 on the historical perspective from which Israeli historians could now examine the Jewish past. What happened in 1989 has seemed, to some Israeli historians, a breaking point marking the end of the eastern European period in the course of Jewish history. The article concludes with some thoughts on a new historical (Israeli) perspective. A one that fits a time when hundreds of thousands of immigrants from what was the largest eastern-European Jewish collective in the world inhabit a remote Middle Eastern nation-state.  


2020 ◽  
Vol 12 (1) ◽  
pp. 55-69
Author(s):  
Márta Goldmann

Abstract The essay considers the background of James Joyce’s “nameless” hero, Leopold Bloom in Ulysses, from the point of view of his Hungarian Jewish ancestry: his family history in the Western Hungarian town of Szombathely and the Jewish history of his town. It shows how a certain reading of the “Circe” and “Cyclops” episodes of Ulysses reveals them in hindsight as anticipating the nightmarish future of the Holocaust in Eastern Europe. This reading is enabled when taking account of the strong parallels that run between the crisis of progress in human history that Ulysses addresses and the idea of history in Walter Benjamin’s Theses on the Philosophy of History of 1940. 1882, the year of Joyce’s birth, was a turning point, if not actually a new beginning, in the long history of anti-Semitic feelings in Hungary. There was a blood libel case in the town of Tiszaeszlár in Eastern Hungary that year. More widely-known and central to the story of modern anti-Semitism in Central Europe was the holding of the first International Anti-Jewish Congress in Dresden in 1882. A local politician from Szombathely, called Győző Istóczy, is linked to both of these events, Szombathely being the town from which Leopold Bloom’s family originates in Ulysses. By unfolding some of the oblique references hidden in the novel to the history of the Jews in Eastern Europe, and revealing the background of the invented Bloom (Virág) family, the essay shows what tragic fate awaited the real-life Jewish families to which they allude and what would have happened to the Joycean “nameless” hero had he remained in Szombathely.


Author(s):  
Shaul Stampfer

This chapter focuses on education in east European Jewish society. On one hand, education was highly regarded by all Jews; learnedness was one of the critical qualities for membership in the elite and lifelong study was one of the most visible features of that society. However, while in many societies education is a means for mobility, traditional east European Jewish society was highly stratified and stable, with little intergenerational social mobility. The key to understanding this situation was the ḥeder, the traditional Jewish elementary school in eastern Europe. The first level of ḥeder study was devoted to learning the mechanics of reading Hebrew. The next level is ḥumash ḥeder, in which students studied each week the portion of the Torah which was to be read the coming sabbath in the synagogue. When a child was able to read the Torah, he was ready to move up to a Talmud ḥeder. For generations up until the late nineteenth century, the standard framework for advanced talmudic study had been study in the beit midrash, or communal study and prayer hall. Ultimately, the ḥeder system contributed to the balance and stability of Jewish society. It was a conservative tool, even though the popular image was that the educational system was open and every Jewish child could become a talmudic scholar.


Author(s):  
Natan M. Meir

This chapter examines the hekdesh, one of the grimmest institutions in East European Jewish society. The hekdesh, or Jewish hospital-cum-poorhouse, is a somewhat elusive historical phenomenon but also a useful venue for analyzing traditional forms of Jewish charity in the Russian Empire as well as the dynamics of social marginality among Russian and Polish Jews. The chapter first considers an important characteristic of Jewish charity—the tendency to distinguish between conjunctural poverty and structural poverty—before discussing the hekdesh as an institution. In particular, it describes efforts to transform the hekdesh into a true medical institution and its incarnation in the late nineteenth century as a place for beggars and other cast-offs of society, with only a nominal connection to caring for the sick. It also explains how the hekdesh may have served to perpetuate the problem of begging and vagrancy.


Author(s):  
Haun Saussy

We often hear that certain words or texts are “untranslatable.” At the root of this judgment lies an exaggerated respect for the native language, which must not be altered by contact with other languages. Against this superstition, it is here argued that translation is one of the great movers of change in language, and accomplishes this precisely through the rendering of difficult and unidiomatic texts. At another level, a purported ethics of translation urges that translations should be “foreignizing” rather than domesticating: this too evidences a normative idea of the integrity of the language and culture of the foreign text. Against such defences of purity, a sense of both language and translation as inherently hybrid, and literary language in particular as macaronic, should open to examination the historical individuality of encounters that every translation records. Examples from Western European languages indicate how this hybridity is to be understood.


Author(s):  
H. Craig Melchert

This article presents an overview of the arrival and florescence of the Indo-European languages in Anatolia, the most famous of which is Hittite. The weight of current linguistic evidence supports the traditional view that Indo-European speakers are intrusive to Asia Minor, coming from somewhere in eastern Europe. There is a growing consensus that the differentiation among the Indo-European Anatolian languages begins at least by the mid-second millennium BCE and possibly earlier. It is likely, but not strictly provable, that this differentiation correlates with the entry of the Indo-European speakers into Anatolia and their subsequent dispersal. Nothing definitive can be said about the route by which the Indo-European entry took place.


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