German-Jewish Experience Research Articles

Space and Time under Persecution: The German-Jewish Experience in the Third Reich

Space and Time under Persecution: The German-Jewish Experience in the Third Reich

Space and Place in the German-Jewish Experience of the 1930s – Introduction

ABSTRACT This introduction offers the theoretical and historical framework of the volume’s articles. In highlighting aspects of the German-Jewish experience during the 1930s, in Germany and in transit, it provides a starting point for the ensuing chapters’ discussions of the relationships between ‘place,’ ‘space,’ history and identity. It underscores the significance of ‘space’ as a category for the study of Jewish life during National Socialist persecution. It argues that the divergent interests and processes which constitute (the notions of) places, and the intricacies between places and identities, facilitate a reconsideration of German-Jewish experiences and self-perceptions in a time of extreme uncertainty.

Struggles for Horizontal Identification: Muslims, Jews, and the Civil Sphere in Germany

Muslims across Europe have been labeled as uncivil since the migration waves of postcolonial and guestworker migrants in the mid-20th century. In this paper, I bring the Muslim experience in the German capital into conversation with Civil Sphere Theory (CST), which analyzes how senses of cultural boundedness are supported, shaped, and contested through the interrelations between the institutions of civil society and social movements aimed at expanding civic inclusion. Drawing on two years of ethnographic research in a Berlin mosque, I move from Muslim associations with incivility to the actions these associations provoke in relation to the civil sphere: exploring how those deemed uncivil exert agency in response to, and also in spite of a civil/uncivil divide. Through the voices and experiences of my interlocutors, I show that Muslims are not simply a victimized out-group excluded from the German civil sphere, but are also agents of change who actively seek to gain full inclusion within it. Specifically, I trace how my German Muslim interlocutors contend with their negative social status by drawing on narratives, and enlivening connections that link them to the German Jewish experience: seeking incorporation in the civil sphere through identifications with another “Other,” and through this other, also mainstream society.

Exile at Home: Jewish Amateur Photography under National Socialism, 1933–1939

Abstract Between 1933 and 1939, Ludwig Simon and his family avidly photographed their daily life. At first glance, their photo albums contain undistinguishable documentation of conventional family routines, including leisure activities at home, encounters with relatives, and vacations away from the city. Yet a closer look shows that many of the photographs in this collection can be read as contemplative responses to the intensifying exclusion of Jews in the Third Reich. The article focuses on photographs that were (repeatedly) taken in two major locations: on the Alps, during vacations, and by the family home in Bingen am Rhein, which Ludwig left when he moved to Berlin in the 1920s. I argue that these photographs manifest an enduring endeavour to reflect critically on the tensions between Jewish belonging and estrangement in the new Germany. Constantly engaged in a dialogue with the (private and public) visual memory of the time—from restaging photographs of previous years to appropriating the visual iconography of German nationalism—the Simon family photographers recurrently negotiated the perspective of the outcasts at home. In analysing these strategies of photography, and of the arrangement of individual photographs within the collection, this article reads them within the paradigm of exile photography. As the Simon family collection demonstrates, the extension of this paradigm to cases of ‘exile-at-home’ enriches our understanding of the German-Jewish experience under National Socialist rule.

Reut Yael Paz. A Gateway between a Distant God and a Cruel World: The Contribution of Jewish German-Speaking Scholars to International Law

This rich and erudite work provides a valuable scholarly apparatus for understanding the writing and teaching of four important figures in international law and international relations. Three of them, Hans Kelsen, Hans Morgenthau and Hersch Lauterpacht, are well known; the fourth, Erich Kaufmann, much less so. The general thesis of the book is that to understand fully the personal and intellectual trajectories of all of these figures, one needs to appreciate the specific German-Jewish experience, from emancipation through the Shoah, the particular situation of the Jews in the legal profession and the academy in Germany, and the responses of these thinkers to experiences of persecution, discrimination and exile due to their family backgrounds as well as to the establishment of the State of Israel. In addition, Reut Paz makes more specific claims that one can see in the ideas and writings of these thinkers on certain specifically motifs or themes or what she calls the Jewish In my view, Paz fully succeeds in vindicating the general thesis. Although I am long familiar with the work of Kelsen, Morgenthau and Lauterpacht, there was much in her book that stimulated new reflections on their sensibilities, intellectual and professional choices and normative stances. Alternatively, I have a considerable discomfort with Paz's attempts to explain aspects of these thinkers in terms of a Jewish psyche or, possibly, a German-Jewish one. Paz is not primarily a scholar of the sociology of religion or an ethnographer. Much less does she rely on traditional religious sources for her concept of identity or psyche.

Human Dignity and Popular Sovereignty in the Mirror of Political Modernity: Some Themes in the German-Jewish Experience

The German-speaking Jewry’s encounter with modernity has long served as a paradigm both in Jewish historiography and in socio-cultural research about modernity at large. In this essay, I examine this "dialectic of modernity" in the writings of Rabbi Leopold Lucas and Moritz Goldstein. Although less well-known than many other towering figures from the same background, such as Scholem, Arendt, Benjamin and members of the Frankfurt School, in their writings one nonetheless finds significant themes and insights for our times. Particularly, Moritz Goldstein’s depiction of the psychology of the "eternal half-other" resonates today with the experience of Europe’s post-colonial "others," as they try to develop forms of identity beyond assimilationism into, and mimicry of, the dominant culture.

Memory and responsibility: Navigating identity and shame in the German-Jewish experience.

Memory and responsibility: Navigating identity and shame in the German-Jewish experience.

Culture and Language: Bilingualism in the German–Jewish Experience and Across Contexts

This paper argues for the inherent connection between language and culture in the therapeutic setting, which is illustrated using an example of a bilingual therapy. It examines the bilingual interaction between a German-speaking second-generation Holocaust survivor and a German-speaking analyst of German descent. By paying attention to the shifts between German and English, it is possible to see how the therapeutic process is grounded in the culture and language of its participants. Using a hermeneutic perspective, this paper suggests that culture and history are disclosed in language in ways that are often outside of conscious awareness. The intersubjective nature of bilingual therapy is demonstrated by the fact that both client and analyst are participants in the process of language shifting. The role of language and the function of culture is considered across therapeutic contexts.

When Kafka Says We: Uncommon Communities in German-Jewish Literature (review)

Reviewed by: When Kafka Says We: Uncommon Communities in German-Jewish Literature Jenifer S. Cushman Vivian Liska . When Kafka Says We: Uncommon Communities in German-Jewish Literature. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2009. Pp. 239. Cloth $29.95. ISBN 9780253353085. The crux of Vivian Liska's painstakingly researched When Kafka Says We: Uncommon Communities in German-Jewish Literature is that there is no crux—at least not for Franz Kafka and the other writers she addresses. Arranged carefully in five sections of three chapters each, Liska's meticulous examination tackles the seemingly contradictory task of bringing together a group of authors whose texts resist "pre-existing concepts and categories." (4) Thankfully, [End Page 93] the "uncommon community" Liska identifies shares more than a mere way of writing unconventionally in the margins of twentieth-century German-Jewish experience (3), or even a literary debt to Kafka, which, in the cases of Else Lasker-Schüler and Ilse Aichinger, is decidedly tenuous. Paradoxically, what ultimately links these authors, according to Liska, is a uniformly ambivalent response to Kafka's question "What have I in common with Jews?" (3-4), and a consequent rejection of a closed community "in which all faces turn toward each other." (22) Because Kafka's question binds the writers together, Liska conceives of her project as organized concentrically outward from Kafka (9), in three distinct time periods. While German Jews early in the twentieth century perceived a rift between modern (urban) and antimodern (shtetl) experiences, according to Liska (6), those after the war grappled with their identity within a Schicksalsgemeinschaft, or "community of fate." (6) For the third period, Liska borrows Homi Bhabha's term to claim that Jews in the latter part of the twentieth century saw their Jewishness as "inbetweenness." (7) Liska places her study within this broader chronology, beginning with the first decades of the century: Part One addresses only Kafka, and Part Two focuses on Theodor Herzl and Else Lasker-Schüler. In Part Three, the analysis proceeds to Paul Celan and Nelly Sachs, and then to Ilse Aichinger in the beginning of Part Four; the three together represent the immediate postwar period. Liska then moves to contemporary Austrian-Jewish literature in the remaining chapters of Part Four and analyzes works by Robert Schindel, Doron Rabinovici, and Robert Menasse. Part Five reverses the chronological movement, returning to more detailed discussions of Celan and Aichinger, and concludes both the section and the book with a curiously brief snippet on Kafka and Hannah Arendt. Throughout the book, Liska's precise and far-ranging scholarship convincingly informs her tightly constructed arguments for locating Kafka within a community of literary heirs. Her discussion of Kafka's "Speech on the Yiddish Language" is particularly compelling in its identification of Kafka's "we" as a rhetorical device to unsettle the western Jews of his audience. (30) Liska provocatively calls into question Deleuze and Guattari's reading of Kafka as appreciating only one movement within his works (16), and her inquiry admits to many ways of reading Kafka and his relationship to the Jewish community. Her treatment of the other authors is also well-considered, especially of two "uncommon" reactions to closed communities under very different circumstances, namely of Else Lasker-Schüler in chapters 5 and 6, and Paul Celan in chapters 7, 8, and 13. Liska's reading of a feminine subtext in Else Lasker-Schüler's treatment of "Song of Songs" (69) is augmented by her spot-on gendered comparison of Kafka's "Worries of a Family Man" and Aichinger's "Spots" (201), and her discussion of Celan supports the notion that the writers she examines continually question the "rootedness" of the Jewish tradition (108), even as they rewrite stereotypes and redefine that tradition. Aside from a puzzlingly speculative concluding chapter that utilizes Kafka's "Imperial Message" to explore Hannah Arendt's relationship to Kafka, the one area where Liska's analysis falls short is in her incomplete exploration of the "contentious hyphen" between the two denominations of "German-Jewish." [End Page 94] (78) Indeed, the question as to whether she succeeds in bringing her subjects together into an uncommon community is perhaps less important than the...

Irreducible Cultural Contexts: German–Jewish Experience, Identity, and Trauma in a Bilingual Analysis

This article addresses the themes of culture, identity, and trauma in a bilingual analysis between a German-speaking second-generation Holocaust survivor and an analyst of German descent. By paying attention to the shifts between German and English over the course of the therapy, it becomes possible to see how deeply language is intertwined with culture, history, and traumatic memory in the German–Jewish experience. Both patient and analyst are embedded in multiple cultural contexts and participate in language shifts that shape the process of negotiating and revealing identity. The article suggests that identity is neither fixed nor stable, but linked to the fluid and dynamic shifts of our experiences in the presence of the other person, and of language and culture in general. By focusing on the therapeutic interaction between the patient and analyst, the case demonstrates the degree to which the burden of history, struggle with trauma, and legacy of shame are all embedded in and determined by culture and history across contexts and generations.

Discussion of Roger Frie: Irreducible Cultural Contexts: German–Jewish Experience, Identity, and Trauma in a Bilingual Analysis

In my discussion of Frie's article, I focus on the tension between, on one hand, his extensive focus on the influence of language and, on the other hand, the relational events so well described by him, including, in particular, the switching back and forth between English and German. These relational events play out around the choice of language and the many meanings of these choices. The dynamics of these events can be described from the perspective of the implicit-relational aspect of human relatedness which exists as an ever-present background that has its own texture and formative power that continuously inform and shape the process of explicit verbal meaning making. The article illustrates how the encounter and dialogue with the other, here Frie and his patient, reflect both the constitutive “power of language and culture” and the limits of this power.

A Jewish Voice and the Creation of a Tikkun Olam Culture—Discussion of “Irreducible Cultural Contexts: German–Jewish Experience, Identity, and Trauma in a Bilingual Analysis”

Drawing upon the Jewish ethics of “Tikkun Olam” (“repair of the world”) and the conceptual lens of complexity systems theory, this discussion considers the German–Jewish tensions played out in the analytic dialogue to be a specific instance of a wider dialogue concerning the relationship between Jews and Germans in our contemporary world—a world that still lives under the shadow of the holocaust. Roger Frie's and Daniel's capacity to embrace the complexity of their different personal histories generated a moving, healing process not just for themselves, but also for the world into which they have been thrown.

Contested Rituals: Circumcision, Kosher Butchering, and Jewish Political Life in Germany, 1843–1933 (review)

Reviewed by: Contested Rituals: Circumcision, Kosher Butchering, and Jewish Political Life in Germany, 1843–1933 Richard S. Levy Contested Rituals: Circumcision, Kosher Butchering, and Jewish Political Life in Germany, 1843–1933, by Robin Judd. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2007. 283 pp. $45.00. When writing about an aspect of the German-Jewish experience that does not have to do with victimization, one of the most difficult things to do is to escape what one author has called the “paper ghetto,” that is, the perfunctory treatment of Jewish issues in separate sections or chapters of books devoted to mainstream German history. Robin Judd overcomes this difficulty by embedding her study of circumcision and kosher slaughtering from the 1840s to 1933 in the larger German story. Like all good history, hers spares us none of the subject’s rich complications. Arguments that began within the Jewish community concerning the defining nature of religiously prescribed rites soon became a matter of lively interest to non-Jews, the controversies surrounding ritual slaughter winning by far the greater attention. State and municipal authorities, the medical establishment, the animal rights movement, and antisemites intervened repeatedly in the debates centering on the two rituals that most clearly separated Jews from non-Jews. Judd corrects the commonly held view that opposition to circumcision and especially kosher slaughtering was always and everywhere simply an antisemitic pretext. She distinguishes degrees of antisemitism in anti-kosher slaughtering campaigns and does not assume its centrality or its significance where bans and partial bans were enacted before 1917. In the Weimar era, the Nazis commandeered the movement against circumcision and kosher butchering and intensified the antisemitic rhetoric that had always portrayed both practices as irrefutable evidence of Jewish cruelty and the futility of trying to integrate Jews into German life. During the imperial era, antisemitism often made its way into public discourse, but it seems only rarely to have swayed governmental action. There were many in the animal rights movement who thought the Jewish method of animal slaughter to be inhumane but who nevertheless distanced themselves from antisemitic arguments and even called for exempting Jews from the general reforms they advocated. The practices also became embroiled in a tangle of jurisdictional disputes at a time when state [End Page 155] and local governments sought to extend their reach by regulating economic activity, safeguarding food supplies, and policing public hygiene. How the state should balance the rights of religious minorities against the larger public good was a source of ongoing conflict. All this is laid out in meticulously researched detail and admirably clear prose. Jews by and large rallied to the defense of Judaism, even as most of them became less and less observant. ( Judd estimates that perhaps fifteen to twenty percent kept kosher by the 1920s. Liberal [Reform] Jews constituted the majority of the community as early as 1870.) In 1886, national campaigns against kosher slaughtering politicized Germany’s Jews, who saw a threat to their civic as well as their religious freedom and responded in a new way. The traditional timid petitioning of the powerful or resigned silence gave way to vigorous action. Nearly a decade before the founding of the Centralverein, the main vehicle of Jewish self-defense from 1893 until the 1930s, Jews carried their fight into the public sphere. Having made this revisionist point, Judd then spells out what it meant. Jewish organizations and individuals—often in conflict with one another—forged an activist network that was able to exploit modern techniques in fund-raising, public relations, and the exerting of economic and political influence. Their defense used every available argument, from the insistence that the method was in fact humane to stirring appeals for religious toleration. They often made common cause with the Catholic Center Party to protect the free practice of religion. Jews learned how to behave politically and were successful in fending off national bans on kosher slaughtering and having several local prohibitions repealed. In 1917, the Bundesrat approved a set of policies that safeguarded the rite, a great but short-lived victory that was undone by the Nazis in April 1933. Judd has written an important book, using a seemingly small subject to...

Narrative Transgression in Edgar Hilsenrath's Der Nazi und der Friseur and the Rhetoric of the Sacred in Holocaust Discourse1

Der Nazi und der Friseur (1977), a satirical novel by the German-Jewish Holocaust survivor Edgar Hilsenrath,2 opens in the year 1907 with the birth of two boys-one Jewish, one non-Jewish-on the same day in the same street in the town of Wieshalle, East Prussia. One of the boys is named Max Schulz, who, as an adult, is the narrator of the novel, which is presented as his autobiography. The other child is Itzig Finkelstein, Max's best friend throughout childhood and youth. As Max tells us at the beginning of the novel, the Judische Rundschau announces Itzig's birth in the following manner: Ich, Chaim Finkelstein, Friseur, Besitzer des eingefuhrten Friseursalons 'Der Herr von Welt,' Ecke Goethe- und Schillerstrase, Wieshalle, Vorstand im 'Judischen Kegelklub,' stellvertretender Generalsekretar der 'Judischen Kultusgemeinde,' Mitglied des 'Deutschen Tierschutzvereins,' des Vereins der 'Pflanzenfreunde,' der Liga 'Liebe deinen Nachsten' und der 'Wieshaller Friseurinnung,' Verfasser der Broschure 'Haarschnitt ohne Treppen,' ... erlaube mir, die Geburt meines Sohnes und Nachfolgers 'Itzig Finkelstein' bekanntzugeben. (8) At the end of the novel, the narrator reproduces for the reader a similar announcement, this time composed by an adult Itzig Finkelstein in anticipation of his own son's birth: Ich, Itzig Finkelstein, Friseur, Besitzer des eingefuhrten Friseursalons 'Der Herr von Welt,' ehemaliges Mitglied der Schwarzgruppe, Haganahsoldat, Sergeant der Israelarmee, Veteran vom Jahre 48, erster judischer Soldat, der an der Spitze seiner Leute am 30. Dezember 1948 den Suezkanal erreichte, Prasident des Tierschutzvereins von Beth David, Prasident der ortlichen Antiwiedergutmachungsliga, Erfinderdes beruhmten Haarwuchsmittels 'Samson V 2,' erlaube mir, die Geburt meines Sohnes und Nachfolgers Judas oder Jehuda Finkelstein bekanntzugeben. (295) Extracted from the larger context of the novel and juxtaposed together, these two short texts, narrated in the first person and separated by an interval of over sixty years, not only tell the story of three generations of the Finkelstein family, but also appear to relate a particular narrative of German-Jewish experience in the middle part of the twentieth century. In the first text, we find Itzig Finkelstein in a middle-class acculturated family, whose members, as evidenced by Chaim Finkelstein's social connections, identify with both the local Jewish community and the larger non-Jewish society in which they live. As such, they can be seen to represent the way many Jews preferred to see themselves in pre-1933 Germany: as a hyphenated identity that consisted of almost equal parts German and Jew. The second birth announcement mediates another history, that of the Jews in Germany after 1933 and especially after 1945. It does not tell us exactly what happened to the Finkelstein family, but its mention of Itzig's leadership of the local Antiwiedergutmachungstiga lets us know that Itzig somehow survived the Holocaust. We also learn that he emigrated to Palestine and was instrumental in the creation of the state of Israel. By reading these two passages together (that is, apart from the rest of the novel), we can extrapolate to a certain extent Itzig's fate, which mirrors the experiences of hundreds of thousands of European Jews who survived the Holocaust. These two birth announcements thus appear to encapsulate Itzig's story as Max Schulz relates it in the novel; considering the narrative they relate jointly, we might be led to believe we need read the entire book only if we want to learn the details of Itzig's childhood and youth in Germany, his survival of the Holocaust, and his experiences as an immigrant to Palestine and in the young state of Israel. The important facts we appear to already know, and from these facts we can form an interpretation of Itzig's experience, one that the narrator Max encourages us to make with his insertion of the two texts. As the gap between the first and second announcements indicates (a gap that signifies not only the greater part of Itzig's life, but a large portion of the novel as well), Itzig's life is marked by incredible rupture and displacement. …

Forget assimilation: introducing subjectivity to German–Jewish history

Between the Enlightenment and the Holocaust, a wide range of German-speaking Jewish subjects shared certain assumptions about a problematic associated with being Jewish and living in a non-Jewish German society (and the concomitant process of relative “assimilation”). The categories of identity and culture that undergirded this problematic became part of a shared lexicon of a German-Jewish “identity crisis”—a lexicon that was handed down to the historiography of German Jews that would develop after the community’s destruction. The author of this contribution challenges the validity of some of these categorical assumptions by setting them against the varied background of German-Jewish experience in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, offering a model of subjectivity (rather than identity) that might allow the historiography to break out of the cyclical repetition in which it currently finds itself. By examining specific exemplars, including Gershom Scholem, Edith Stein, Martin Buber, and others, the author models a reading strategy that would be appropriate for German-Jewish subjectivity.

Versions of Home: German Jewish Refugee Papers out of the Closet and into the Archives

Impact of the German-Jewish Experience on Western Culture held at the University of the Negev in Beersheva in March 1998, a conference at Cornell University in March 2001 on Narrative and the Holocaust, and, most directly, a seminar on Archives and the Production of Political Cultures at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor in November 2000 at which my husband Frank Mecklenburg, Research Director of the Leo Baeck Institute in New York, and I reflected, from quite different perspectives, on the origins, construction, and preservation of German-Jewish memory after 1945.1 In both cases, I took advantage of the prescribed themes to try out tentatively, with both abashed ambivalence and guilty pleasure what so

Between hope and despair: Conceptions of time and the German-Jewish experience in the nineteenth century

Despite German Jews' social, political, and cultural integration into the German society in the nineteenth century, distinct notions of time continued to shape their social discourses. This article analyzes the various ways in which German Jews comprehended the relation between past, present, and future. Throughout this period, German Jews formulated in the face of political, cultural, and religious changes,their own visions of the present and future. To characterize German Jews' notions of time as simply linear neglects the complex and dynamic aspects of their temporal notions. An investigation of the changing interrelation of past, present, and future provides an avenue for a more nuanced understanding of German Jews' experiences and expectations, as well as of their various responses to modernity.

Neighbors in Death

Werner Marx's teaching career spanned two continents and two cultures; his German-Jewish experience spanned the divide between two irreconcilable historical worlds; and his academic mission combined the roles of thinker and witness.1 It is not surprising, then, that his philosophizing is characterized throughout by a certain set of doublings. There is, first, a appreciation for the inescapability of Heidegger's challenge to thought, combined with equally suspicion of Heidegger's apparent blind spots. Marx's early book, Heidegger and the Tradition, set the agenda by refusing to think truth as infected by untruth; thereafter his calling-and his call to us-would be to think with Heidegger beyond (or even against) Heidegger order that post-metaphysical thinking might find purchase domains, such as ethics, where Heidegger was either unwilling (or perhaps unable) to extend it.2 A second doubling, or doubling back, facilitated this extension. Werner Marx never forgot that the Lehrstuhl of the Philosophisches Seminar I was not the Heidegger Chair alone, but equally the Husserl-Rickert-Riehl Chair; Marx's postwar thought could thus retrieve the impulses of German Idealism preserved the neo-Kantian tradition, together with the moral imperative informing the craft of phenomenological reflection. Eschewing Heidegger's andenkendes Denken to return to a phenomenology that brings the respective matter into view order to clarify the structural features and relations of meaning that lie within it,3 Marx's later essays attain a supple concreteness pursuit of what he identified as the most pressing demand facing philosophy today, viz., the phenomenological clarification of the measure of our Measure is experienced as a claim-not as a claim that we make (in asserting something, for example, or insisting on a legal title), but rather as something that claims us, something whose authority we acknowledge, thus serving as the basis for a our being. Though such a phenomenon tends to be rendered invisible by modern thought and its hypostatic, metaphysical, conception of rationally autonomous subjectivity,4 the nexus of claim and measure silently informs all genuine aesthetic, religious, and reflective experience and constitutes-as Werner Marx began to show-an indispensable touchstone for rendering the Lifeworld a humane world. Thinking beyond Heidegger by doubling back through a phenomenology of claim, then, Marx sought to uncover the ground for a nonmetaphysical ethics, an experience that could clear the way for a transformation which one would be willing to allow measures of a nonmetaphysical ethics . . . to become effective within oneself.5 aspect of this project I propose to explore-briefly and phenomenologically-is the revisioning of death. Here Marx locates the path to a postmodern ethical intersubjectivity, experience of our humanity which impulses toward traditional virtues such as kindness, honesty, and justice can be discerned even where the traditional measures of metaphysical teleology, faith, or enlightened reason no longer claim us absolutely. For Marx, we become neighbors death. And what most needs to be clarified phenomenologically-thinking with Marx and perhaps to some extent beyond him-is why neighbor (and not, say, friend, lover, comrade, or brother/sister) should come to designate the genuinely human form of the social bond, the ethical face of intersubjectivity itself.6 To set the stage let us recall Tolstoy's story, The Death of Ivan Ilych. Because the early Heidegger sought a formal-existential insight this story-viz., that death radically individualizes and opens out onto the of resolve-he overlooked the content of Ivan's own moment of vision (Augenblick).7 Marx does not overlook it. Late the story Ivan, in a state of stupefied misery, senses himself being stuffed into a deep black sack. Shocked from his reverie, he weeps-like a child-on account of his helplessness, his terrible loneliness, the cruelty of man, the cruelty of God, the absence of God. …

The German Jewish experience in Cape Town from 1936 to the present day

The German Jewish experience in Cape Town from 1936 to the present day

Visible Spaces: Hannah Arendt and the German-Jewish Experience. Dagmar Barnouw

Previous articleNext article No AccessBook ReviewsVisible Spaces: Hannah Arendt and the German-Jewish Experience. Dagmar Barnouw Mark ShechnerMark Shechner Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUS Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmail SectionsMoreDetailsFiguresReferencesCited by Modern Philology Volume 90, Number 4May, 1993 Article DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1086/392113 Views: 1Total views on this site Copyright 1993 The University of ChicagoPDF download Crossref reports no articles citing this article.