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Tel Aviv University
Tel Aviv University – Shlomo Sand’s (Dept of History) book gets
described as a “trip through a landscape of illusions” in an attempt
by Sand to free the Middle East from “the hard bricks of truth”
For Sand, a professor of history at Tel Aviv
University, the antidote to a national identity based on what he
argues are fables, is to shed the fancy that there is any such thing
as a shared Jewish identity independent of religious practice. …
Sand confuses ethnicity – which, in the case of the Jews, is indeed
impure, heterogeneous and much travelled – with an identity that
evolves as the product of common historical experience. Rabbinical
arguments may rest on an imaginary definition of ethnicity, but the
legitimacy of a Jewish homeland does not. Ultimately, Israel’s case
is the remedy for atrocity, about which Sand has nothing to say. His
book is a trip (and I use the word advisedly) through a landscape of
illusions which Sand aims to explode, leaving the scenery freer for
a Middle East built, as he supposes, from the hard bricks of truth.
This turns out to require not just the abandonment of simplicities
about race, but any shared sense of historical identity at all on
the part of the Jews that might be taken as the basis of common
allegiance, which is an another matter entirely. En route, he
marches the reader through a mind-numbingly laborious examination of
the construction of national identities from imagined rather than
actual histories. A whole literature has been devoted to the
assumption that nations are invariably built from such stories, in
which, nonetheless, grains of historical truth are usually embedded.
The important issue, however, is whether the meta-narrative that
arises from those stories is inclusive enough to accommodate the
tales of those whose experience is something other than racially and
culturally homogeneous.
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/b74fdfd2-cfe1-11de-a36d-00144feabdc0.html
The Invention of the Jewish People - Review
by Simon Schama
November 13 2009
The Invention of the Jewish People
By Shlomo Sand
Translated by Yael Lotan
From its splashy title on, Shlomo Sand means
his book to be provocative, which it certainly is, though possibly
not in the way he intends. Its real challenge to the reader is
separating the presentation of truisms as though they were
revolutionary illuminations and the relentless beating on doors that
have long been open, from passages of intellectual sharpness and
learning.
Sand’s self-dramatising attack in The Invention
of the Jewish People is directed against those who assume,
uncritically, that all Jews are descended lineally from the single
racial stock of ancient Hebrews – a position no one who has thought
for a minute about the history of the Jews would dream of taking.
Sand’s sense of grievance against the myths on
which the exclusively Jewish right to full Israeli immigration is
grounded is one that many who want to see a more liberal and secular
Israel wholeheartedly share. But his book prosecutes these aims
through a sensationalist assertion that somehow, the truth about
Jewish culture and history, especially the “exile which never
happened”, has been suppressed in the interests of racially pure
demands of Zionist orthodoxy. This, to put it mildly, is a stretch.
To take just one instance: the history of the
Khazars, the central Asian kingdom which, around the 10th century,
converted to Judaism and which Sand thinks has been excised from the
master narrative because of the embarrassing implication that
present day Jews might be descended from Turkic converts. But the
Khazars were known by every Jewish girl and boy in my neck of
Golders Greenery and further flung parts of the diaspora, and
celebrated rather than evaded.
For Sand, a professor of history at Tel Aviv
University, the antidote to a national identity based on what he
argues are fables, is to shed the fancy that there is any such thing
as a shared Jewish identity independent of religious practice.
By this narrow reckoning you are either
devoutly orthodox or not Jewish at all if you imagine yourself to
have any connection to Israel past or present. Sand confuses
ethnicity – which, in the case of the Jews, is indeed impure,
heterogeneous and much travelled – with an identity that evolves as
the product of common historical experience. Rabbinical arguments
may rest on an imaginary definition of ethnicity, but the legitimacy
of a Jewish homeland does not. Ultimately, Israel’s case is the
remedy for atrocity, about which Sand has nothing to say.
His book is a trip (and I use the word
advisedly) through a landscape of illusions which Sand aims to
explode, leaving the scenery freer for a Middle East built, as he
supposes, from the hard bricks of truth. This turns out to require
not just the abandonment of simplicities about race, but any shared
sense of historical identity at all on the part of the Jews that
might be taken as the basis of common allegiance, which is an
another matter entirely. En route, he marches the reader through a
mind-numbingly laborious examination of the construction of national
identities from imagined rather than actual histories. A whole
literature has been devoted to the assumption that nations are
invariably built from such stories, in which, nonetheless, grains of
historical truth are usually embedded. The important issue, however,
is whether the meta-narrative that arises from those stories is
inclusive enough to accommodate the tales of those whose experience
is something other than racially and culturally homogeneous.
Sand’s point is that a version of Jewish
national identity was written in the 19th and early 20th centuries –
by historians such as Heinrich Graetz and Simon Dubnow – which took
as its central premise a forced dispersion of the Jews from Israel.
But, he argues, there actually was no mass forced “exile” so there
can be no legitimate “return”. This is the take-away headline that
makes this book so contentious. It is undoubtedly right to say that
a popular version of this idea of the exile survives in most
fundamentalist accounts of Jewish history. It may well be the image
that many Jewish children still have. But it is a long time since
any serious historian argued that following the destruction of the
Second Temple, the Romans emptied Judea. But what the Romans did do,
following the Jewish revolt of AD66-70 and even more exhaustively
after a second rebellion in AD135, was every bit as traumatic: an
act of cultural and social annihilation – mass slaughter and
widespread enslavement. But there was also the mass extirpation of
everything that constituted Jewish religion and culture; the
renaming of Jerusalem as Aelia Capitolina, the obliteration of the
Temple, the prohibition on rituals and prayers. Sand asserts,
correctly, that an unknowable number of Jews remained in what the
Romans called Palestina. The multitudes of Jews in Rome had already
gone there, not as a response to disaster but because they wanted to
and were busy proselytising.
All this is true and has been acknowledged. But
Sand appears not to notice that it undercuts his argument about the
non-connection of Jews with the land of Palestine rather than
supporting it. Put together, the possibility of leading a Jewish
religious life outside Palestine, with the continued endurance of
Jews in the country itself and you have the makings of that group
yearning – the Israel-fixation, which Sand dismisses as imaginary.
What the Romans did to the defeated Jews was dispossession, the
severity of which was enough to account for the homeland-longing by
both the population still there and those abroad. That yearning
first appears, not in Zionist history, but in the writings of
medieval Jewish teachers, and never goes away.
There are many such twists of historical logic
and strategic evasions of modern research in this book. To list them
all would try your patience. Scholarly consensus now places the
creation of the earliest books of the Old Testament not in the 6th
or 5th centuries BC, but in the 9th century BC, home-grown in a
Judah which had been transformed, as Israel Finkelstein has written
“into a developed nation state”. The post-David kingdom of the 10th
century BC may have been a pastoral warrior citadel, but the most
recent excavations by Amihai Mazar have revealed it capable of
building monumental structures. And the Judah in which the bible was
first forged, its population swollen with refugees from the
hard-pressed northern kingdom of Israel, was a culture that needed a
text to bring together territory, polity and religion. It was a
moment of profound cultural genesis. And don’t get me started again
on the Khazars. No one doubts the significance of their conversion,
but to argue that the entirety of Ashkenazi Jewry must necessarily
descend from them is to make precisely the uncritical claim |