January 31, 2007

  • Our Father, the Nazi Zealot

    Photographs by the National Center for Jewish Film

    Malte Ludin confronts his sister Barbel in his film “2 or 3 Things I Know About Him.”

    Readers’ Opinions

    Forum: Movies

    Photographs by the National Center for Jewish Film

    The subject of the film, Hanns Ludin, in 1935.

    MOVIE REVIEW | ’2 OR 3 THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HIM’

    Our Father, the Nazi Zealot: A Family Grapples With Its Burdens and Blind Spots

    The Nazis ruled Germany for 12 years and inflicted their cruelty on other European nations for around 7. Coming to terms with what Hitler and his followers did has been a much longer project — involving Jews, Germans, other Europeans and just about everyone else in the world — and it is unlikely to end anytime soon. Like many other films and books, “2 or 3 Things I Know About Him,” a new documentary directed by Malte Ludin, examines the impact of Nazism on a single family, in this case the family of a high-ranking member of Hitler’s government. But if it tells, in Mr. Ludin’s words, “a typical German story,” the movie also offers an unusually matter-of-fact picture of the private and public effects of ordinary evil.

    The filmmaker’s father, Hanns Ludin, who served as the Third Reich’s ambassador to the Nazi vassal state of Slovakia, and who in that capacity signed deportation orders sending thousands of Jews to Auschwitz, was executed for war crimes in 1947. He left behind a wife, Erla, and six children.

    Malte, the youngest (born in 1942), waited until his mother died before embarking on this film, though it includes earlier interviews he did with her. The title, apart from its distracting and irrelevant nod in the direction of Jean-Luc Godard, suggests that Hanns Ludin remains, in his son’s eyes, a mysterious, unknowable figure, and the younger Mr. Ludin’s interviews with other family members contribute to the blurriness of the picture.

    Archival photographs and film clips of the father show a stout, smiling fellow, in and out of uniform, and Malte Ludin’s surviving sisters recall him with some fondness. One sister, Barbel, emerges as her father’s staunch defender, and the most wrenching scenes in the film show her and Malte Ludin on screen together, arguing doggedly about the nuances of guilt, responsibility and shame.

    Barbel insists that she feels none herself, and furthermore tries to mitigate the portrait of her father as a heartless monster. She resorts to some familiar rationalizations — that he couldn’t have known the full truth about Auschwitz; that he tried to resist or subvert the most inhumane Nazi policies; that many slaughtered by the Nazis should be thought of as casualties of war who got what was coming to them — which all bolster her conviction that Hanns Ludin was, in the end, a victim.

    This startling conclusion is not altogether unheard of in postwar Germany. The idea that the German people were the victims of Hitler’s madness rather than its sponsors has proven durable and convenient in that nation’s postwar culture. Mr. Ludin’s anxious, questioning, self-lacerating inquiry represents a powerful countertendency toward full acknowledgment of shared culpability, and his quarrel with Barbel is part of what makes this “a typical German story.”

    Barbel’s loyalty to her father’s memory is both touching and appalling, but her refusal to admit the truth about his actions is something worse. Hanns Ludin joined the SA paramilitary organization in 1931; survived the 1934 Night of the Long Knives, in which Hitler’s potential political rivals were massacred; and openly celebrated his Führer’s birthday in April 1945, at a time when more than a few die-hard Nazis, glimpsing the Allies’ armies over the horizon, underwent an expedient change of heart.

    All the evidence presented in “2 or 3 Things” suggests that Hanns Ludin served the National Socialist cause zealously, and the testimony of survivors — including a member of the Jewish family whose house in Slovakia the Ludins expropriated — leave no doubt regarding his central role in organized mass murder. To call him a victim is to strip all meaning from the word.

    What is it like to have such a man as a father or a grandfather? Even those whose parents and grandparents died because of his actions approach this question, in Mr. Ludin’s presence, with something resembling pity. And while it is no real comfort, the victims and their descendants are able to regard the past with a moral clarity that eludes Mr. Ludin’s siblings.

    His wife, Iva Svarcova, also the film’s producer, was born in Czechoslovakia in the early 1960s, and the influence of her perspective on 20th-century European history, necessarily distinct from her husband’s, is evident through much of the film.

    Mr. Ludin’s nieces and nephews — Hanns Ludin’s grandchildren — were all born after the war, and are the products of a sane, democratic and affluent society (apart from the ones who grew up in apartheid-era South Africa). They are thus less anguished by the family history, and their sensitive, sensible voices give “2 or 3 Things I Know About Him” a measure of earned and authentic optimism. It is possible for a nation to descend into evil, but over time, recovery is also possible.

    “2 or 3 Things I Know About Him,” which opens today at Film Forum, is being shown along with Benjamin Ross’s “Torte Bluma,” an 18-minute vignette inspired by the true story of the relationship between a death camp commandant (Stellan Skarsgard) and the Jewish inmate (Simon McBurney) who works as his cook. Their relationship is touched by a degree of warmth, or at least courtesy, and the commandant’s self-image is of a decent, even compassionate man doing his duty in bad circumstances.

    The washed-out colors are a bit of a cliché — sometimes, surely, the horror of the Holocaust unfolded in full color — but the episode nonetheless has a clammy, understated poignancy.

    2 OR 3 THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HIM

    Opens today in Manhattan.

    Written (in German and Slovak, with English subtitles) and directed by Malte Ludin; director of photography, Franz Lustig; edited by Mr. Ludin and Iva Svarcova; music by Werner Pirchner, Hakim Ludin and Jaroslav Nahovica; produced by Ms. Svarcova; released by the National Center for Jewish Film. Playing with Benjamin Ross’s 18-minute English-language film, “Torte Blume,” at Film Forum, 209 West Houston Street, west of Avenue of the Americas, South Village. Running time: 85 minutes. This film is not rated.


     

    Ralph Nader

    Greg Kafoury/IFC First Take

    “An Unreasonable Man” looks at both of Mr. Nader’s public images.

    MOVIE REVIEW | ‘AN UNREASONABLE MAN’

    The Endlessly Maddening (for Liberals) Case of Ralph Nader

    Early in the documentary “An Unreasonable Man,” it is noted that Ralph Nader is more likely to be remembered for his 2000 presidential campaign than for the decades of advocacy that preceded it. And the movie, an admiring but hardly uncritical portrait of Mr. Nader, confirms this suspicion by devoting nearly half of its more than two-hour running time to the 2000 election and its aftermath.

    That event seems at once irrelevant and urgent, lost in the mists of pre-9/11 history and painfully topical. Certainly the passage of time has not cooled tempers or settled arguments. And so, much of the second half of “An Unreasonable Man,” directed by Steve Skrovan and Henriette Mantel (a former associate of Mr. Nader, she is also interviewed on camera), consists of talking heads talking past one another.

    To liberal media critics like Eric Alterman and Todd Gitlin, Mr. Nader is “self-deluded,” “intellectually dishonest,” a “megalomaniac” and worse. His moral vanity, in their view (which is hardly theirs alone), cost Al Gore a decisive margin of victory over George W. Bush. Spoiling it for the Democrats, Mr. Nader’s detractors (among them some former allies) contend, was his intention all along.

    This charge is disputed by members of his campaign staff, who also repeat his central claim that the Republicans and the Democrats are basically a two-headed corporate oligarchy, rather than genuinely distinct political forces.

    The argument goes in circles, and while it makes for interesting, vexing viewing, it also throws the film somewhat off balance. The family quarrel on the American left that Mr. Nader’s candidacy continues to provoke threatens to overshadow the larger debates that his earlier career as a consumer advocate placed at the center of American civic life. These have to do with the power of corporations, the regulatory authority of government and the limits of the free market — issues that have hardly faded away, and that aren’t readily summed up in “Did so!”/”Did not!” back-and-forthing.

    In promotional materials, “An Unreasonable Man” has the ungainly tagline “Ralph Nader: How Do You Define a Legacy?” — a question that Mr. Nader insists does not concern him in the least. While giving him and his supporters ample time to justify his run for the presidency, the filmmakers also seek to balance the historical ledger. Alongside those 97,000 contentious Florida votes, they suggest, must be reckoned the hundreds of thousands of lives saved by improvements in automobile safety, environmental protections and safeguards on consumer products, causes Mr. Nader and his colleagues championed for years.

    His impact on these areas of modern life is the focus of the movie’s riveting first hour, which is as much the biography of a movement as the story of a single man. Not that there is much of a distinction: from the mid-1960s on, Mr. Nader’s cause was his life. His exposé of the “designed-in” dangers of the Chevrolet Corvair, published first in The New Republic (in articles written by James Ridgeway) and later in “Unsafe at Any Speed” were followed by Congressional hearings that brought both fame and influence. Money from a settlement with General Motors — which had hired private detectives to snoop around Mr. Nader’s personal life, something even his close associates doubt exists — became the seed for future advocacy and activism.

    Mr. Nader attracted a cadre of young idealists whose approach to politics was both a product of the times and a departure from it. The point, as they saw it, was not to overthrow the system, but rather to bring it into line with its stated principles, a goal that was rational rather than romantic and pursued by means of research and reporting rather than demonstrations or direct actions.

    For a while, especially during the Carter administration, Mr. Nader’s commitment to using the legal system and the apparatus of government to check the influence of corporations brought him into alliance with the Democratic Party. His subsequent entry into electoral politics is presented in the movie, persuasively enough, as a result of the fraying of this concord. Some degree of disappointment was probably inevitable. For better or for worse, the engine of democracy is compromise, and Mr. Nader is uncompromising to the very core of his being.

    And “An Unreasonable Man,” a conventional collage of archival clips and retrospective interviews, works hard to do him justice. Its ideological leanings are evident and unsurprising, but more screen time for Mr. Nader’s pre-2000 (or pre-post-2000) adversaries would have made a richer film. As it is, the filmmakers and their interlocutors make much of Mr. Nader’s popularity with the American public in the 1970s, but seem unable to acknowledge that, in the next decade, much of that same public embraced Ronald Reagan, whose ascendancy is treated, with wearying predictability, as the result of elite conspiracy and public delusion.

    The standoff over the 2000 presidential election is handled with a better feel for unresolved tensions and contradictions. To these must be added a curious and telling footnote. “An Unreasonable Man” was shown at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival, alongside another documentary featuring Mr. Gore, Davis Guggenheim’s “Inconvenient Truth.” That movie, now contending for an Academy Award, is almost entirely about the challenges of the future. This one, for all its invocations of the progressive spirit, concerns itself mainly with the battles of the past.


     

    Ever since the first Jew arrived in America, and Essay Linking Liberal Jews and Anti-Semitism

    A J Mast for The New York Times


    Alvin H. Rosenfeld is the author of an essay critical of liberal Jews that has generated heated debate

    Essay Linking Liberal Jews and Anti-Semitism Sparks a Furor

    The American Jewish Committee, an ardent defender of Israel, is known for speaking out against anti-Semitism, but this conservative advocacy group has recently stirred up a bitter and emotional debate with a new target: liberal Jews.

    An essay the committee features on its Web site, ajc.org, titled ” ‘Progressive’ Jewish Thought and the New Anti-Semitism,” says a number of Jews, through their speaking and writing, are feeding a rise in virulent anti-Semitism by questioning whether Israel should even exist.

    In an introduction to the essay, David A. Harris, the executive director of the committee, writes, “Perhaps the most surprising — and distressing — feature of this new trend is the very public participation of some Jews in the verbal onslaught against Zionism and the Jewish State.” Those who oppose Israel’s basic right to exist, he continues, “whether Jew or gentile, must be confronted.”

    The essay comes at a time of high anxiety among many Jews, who are seeing not only a surge in attacks from familiar antagonists, but also gloves-off condemnations of Israel from onetime allies and respected figures, like former President Jimmy Carter, who titled his new book on the Mideast “Palestine Peace Not Apartheid.” By spotlighting the touchy issue of whether Jews are contributing to anti-Semitism, both admirers and detractors of the essay agree that it aggravates an already heated dispute over where legitimate criticism of Israel and its defenders ends and anti-Semitic statements begin.

    The essay, written by Alvin H. Rosenfeld, an English professor and the director of the Institute for Jewish Culture and the Arts at Indiana University in Bloomington, castigates a number of people by name, including the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tony Kushner, the historian Tony Judt, the poet Adrienne Rich and the Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen, in addition to a number of academics.

    Mr. Judt, whose views on Israel and the American Jewish lobby have frequently drawn fire, is chastised for what Mr. Rosenfeld calls “a series of increasingly bitter articles” that have “called Israel everything from arrogant, aggressive, anachronistic, and infantile to dysfunctional, immoral, and a primary cause of present-day anti-Semitism.”

    A historian at New York University, Mr. Judt said in a telephone interview that he believed the real purpose of outspoken denunciations of him and others was to stifle harsh criticism of Israel. “The link between anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism is newly created,” he said, adding that he fears “the two will have become so conflated in the minds of the world” that references to anti-Semitism and the Holocaust will come to be seen as “just a political defense of Israeli policy.”

    The essay also takes to task “Wrestling With Zion: Progressive Jewish-American Responses to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict” (Grove Press), a 2003 collection of essays edited by Mr. Kushner and Alisa Solomon. Mr. Kushner said that he and Ms. Solomon took great care to include a wide range of voices in their collection, including those of Ms. Rich, the playwright Arthur Miller and various rabbis.

    “Most Jews like me find this a very painful subject,” Mr. Kushner said, and are aware of the rise in vicious anti-Semitism around the world but feel “it’s morally incumbent upon us to articulate questions and reservations.”

    Over the telephone, the dinner table and the Internet, people who follow Jewish issues have been buzzing over Mr. Rosenfeld’s article. Alan Wolfe, a political scientist and the director of the Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life at Boston College, said, “I’m almost in a state of shock” at the verbal assaults directed at liberal Jews.

    On H-Antisemitism (h-net.org), an Internet forum for scholarly discussions of the subject, Michael Posluns, a political scientist at the University of Toronto, wrote, “Sad and misbegotten missives of the sort below make me wonder if it is not the purpose of mainstream Jewish organizations to foster anti-Jewishness by calling down all who take from their Jewish experience and Jewish thought a different ethos and different ways of being as feeding anti-Semitism.”

    Others have praised Mr. Rosenfeld’s indictment and joined the fray. Shulamit Reinharz, a sociologist who is also the wife of Jehuda Reinharz, the president of Brandeis University, wrote in a column for The Jewish Advocate in Boston: “Most would say that they are simply anti-Zionists, not anti-Semites. But I disagree, because in a world where there is only one Jewish state, to oppose it vehemently is to endanger Jews.”

    Although many of the responses to the essay have referred to its subject as “Jewish anti-Semitism,” Mr. Rosenfeld said in a telephone interview that he was very careful not to use that phrase. But whatever it is called, he said, “I wanted to show that in an age when anti-Semitism is resurgent, Jews thinking the way they’re thinking is feeding into a very nasty cause.”

    In his essay he says that “one of the most distressing features of the new anti-Semitism” is “the participation of Jews alongside it.” Like others, Mr. Cohen of The Washington Post complained that the essay cherry-picked quotations. “He mischaracterized what I wrote,” he said. “I’ve been critical of Israel at times, but I’ve always been a defender of Israel.” He did add, however, that a wide range of writers were named, some of whom have written inflammatory words about Israel. “He has me in a very strange neighborhood,” Mr. Cohen said.

    The dispute goes beyond the familiar family squabbling among Jews that is characterized by the old joke about two Jews having three opinions on a single subject. Bitter debates over anti-Israel statements and anti-Semitism have entangled government officials, academics, opinion-makers and others over the past year, particularly since fervent supporters and tough critics of Israel can be found on the right and the left.

    Mr. Wolfe, who has written about a recent rise in what he calls “Jewish illiberalism,” traces the heated language to increasing opposition to the Iraq war and President Bush’s policy in the Middle East, which he said had spurred liberal Jews to become more outspoken about Israel.

    “Events in the world have sharpened a sense of what’s at stake,” he said. “Israel is more isolated than ever,” causing American Jewish defenders of Israel to become more aggressive.

    On this point Mr. Rosenfeld and Mr. Wolfe are in agreement. “It’s going up a notch or four or five,” Mr. Rosenfeld said in an interview. “One of the things that is clear,” he said of anti-Semitic and anti-Israel attacks, “is that what used to be on the margin and not very serious is becoming more and more mainstream.”

    Mr. Rosenfeld, who has written and edited more than half a dozen books as well as other publications for the committee, emphasized that policy disagreements were natural and expected. Opposing Israel’s settlement of the West Bank or treatment of Palestinians “is, in itself, not anti-Semitic,” he writes; it is questioning Israel’s right to exist that crosses the line.

    But Mr. Judt said, “I don’t know anyone in a respectable range of opinion who thinks Israel shouldn’t exist.” (Mr. Judt advocates a binational state that is not exclusively Jewish, something that many Jews see as equivalent to dissolving Israel). He contends that harsh complaints about Israel’s treatment of Palestinians are the real target.

    Last year Mr. Judt came to the defense of two prominent political scientists, Stephen M. Walt at Harvard and John J. Mearsheimer of the University of Chicago, after they were besieged for publishing a paper that baldly stated (among other things) that anyone critical of Israel or the American Jewish lobby “stands a good chance of being labeled an anti-Semite.”

    David Singer, the committee’s director of research, said the attention Mr. Rosenfeld’s essay had drawn was not unexpected. “We certainly thought that it would raise eyebrows in some quarters,” he said.

    “I think it’s an act of courage” on the part of the American Jewish Committee and the author, he added. “It obviously deals with matters of great sensitivity.”


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    The Wailing Wall In Jerusalem

    By ALAN WOLFE

    Ever since the first Jew arrived on American shores 350 years ago, one question has persistently been asked but never definitively answered. Should Jews accommodate themselves to the culture of the United States, even if so doing carries the risk of serious, sometimes fatal revisions to the traditions that have long defined Judaism? Or should preservation of the traditions come first, even if that means never really fitting into American culture as other groups, primarily Christian, have done?

    In recent times, from roughly the 1940s to the 1970s, the predominant response among American Jews was assimilation and cultural adaptation. For many that process continues unabatedindeed, to the point of intermarriage, conversion to Buddhism, adherence to nonbelief, or any one of the myriad ways in which Jewish identity has come to be an ethnic marker, at best, and a label to be avoided, at worst.

    But there has also taken place in recent years a searching inquiry about the costs of assimilation. By no means confined to the ultra-Orthodox, some American Jews have wondered out loud what it means to be Jewish unless one takes one’s obligations to the traditions seriously. Among those for whom Jewish identity is first and foremost, there exists a palpable sense that American culture is, on the one hand, too seductive and, on the other, too frivolous. People of this persuasion are inclined to believe that earlier generations of assimilated Jews were too willing to leave their heritage behind and too sanguine about what modern, secular, liberal, and, above all else, assimilationist America offered.

    While insisting that Jews as individuals offer an American success story, for example, the law professor Alan M. Dershowitz argued as the last century came to a close, in The Vanishing American Jew: In Search of Jewish Identity for the Next Century (Little, Brown, 1997), that “American Jews — as a people — have never been in greater danger of disappearing through assimilation, intermarriage, and low birthrates.” The distinguished group of scholars who contributed to Manfred Gerstenfeld’s American Jewry’s Challenge: Addressing the Twenty-First Century (Rowman & Littlefield, 2004) also say that Jews face a set of new problems — including increasing anti-Semitism, hostility toward Israel on the campuses, and secularization among younger Jews — that make older models of assimilation problematic. Suggestions about what to do about all that differ according to the suggester: Focus more of Jewish philanthropic efforts on Jewish-community building, turn more attention to efforts to halt intermarriage, put resources into defending Israel, and so on.

    As much as I appreciate that effort to insist on Jewish identity, I want to make a case for all the things that American culture would lose if American Jews were to turn their backs on it. Jews made so many contributions to American culture during their “Golden Age” of assimilation that it is difficult to imagine what American life would have been without them. Those contributions, furthermore, raise the question of what kind of culture the United States would have if American Jews turn increasingly inward in the future. Four cultural contributions stand out.

    The first was in the arts, especially in the musical theater. It remains a fact of still surprising significance that Jews played a role in celebrating the statehood of a frontier territory like Oklahoma: As Andrea Most points out in her lively history of the Jewish contribution to musicals, Making Americans: Jews and the Broadway Musical (Harvard University Press, 2004), Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein drew on the themes of Jewish exile to depict the evolution of American culture in Oklahoma! According to Most, the message they conveyed was: “Cowboys must settle down and become farmers; the frontier must be ‘tamed’ into a useful agricultural resource; young people must marry and bring up new Americans.”

    Together with others like Irving Berlin and George and Ira Gershwin, Rodgers and Hammerstein transformed the American musical from dancing chorus lines to something resembling European opera. Still, one wonders how many Americans who woke up to a beautiful morning understood that their entertainment was being created by people who, not that long before in America’s past, would have been viewed as suspicious because of the mere fact that they were not Christian.

    In her book, Most calls attention to the political liberalism that shaped the themes of so much of Broadway musical comedy, culminating in the sermon against racial discrimination put to unforgettable melody in South Pacific. By the time Jews began to arrive in the United States in significant numbers in the early 20th century, they had already established an affinity with political liberalism in Europe. In the United States, the fit was even more perfect. Was it because the United States took such a significant shift to the left during the Great Depression and the New Deal that Jews began to feature so prominently in the liberal life of the nation? Or was it because Jews featured so prominently in the liberal life of the nation that the country shifted to the left?

    In either case, a second way Jews had an impact on America was by exercising influence in the Democratic Party, as well as in the interest groups and ideological configurations closely associated with it. Early in the 20th century, Louis Brandeis weaned America from its faith in laissez-faire with legal briefs documenting the actual conditions workers faced on the job. By mid-century, Jews had become prominent actors in the struggle for civil rights. And during the 1960s and 1970s, Jewish organizations like the Anti-Defamation League played a role in protecting the First Amendment’s commitment to separation of church and state. Identifying so closely with liberal causes, Jews became, along with African-Americans, the most reliable Democratic voters in America. Ultimately, for the first time in American history, a Jew, Joseph Lieberman, became the party’s candidate for vice president in 2000.

    A third distinctive contribution made by Jews to American culture was psychoanalysis, which in many ways was linked to Jewish liberalism just as Jewish liberalism was linked to Broadway theater. Psychoanalysis, as Eli Zaretsky has written in Secrets of the Soul: A Social and Cultural History of Psychoanalysis (Knopf, 2004), contains both an element of social control and an element of liberation, but it was primarily the latter strain that influenced American culture in the 1950s and 1960s. Through the work of thinkers like Herbert Marcuse, Lionel Trilling, and Philip Rieff, the ideas of Sigmund Freud permeated the very fabric of American popular and academic culture. Large numbers of Americans began to find in Freud what they increasingly failed to discover in Marx: a way to transform oppressive institutions and practices into an expansion of the sense of personal fulfillment.

    Without the arrival of psychoanalysis on these shores, it is hard to imagine how the popular-front politics of the 1930s could have been turned into the identity politics of the 1990s. Each new group that found itself victimized — women and homosexuals most significant among them — looked to the Freudian tradition for explanations of the problem that, as Betty Friedan famously put it, had no name. (Although Friedan herself, I hasten to point out, dismissed Freud as hopelessly biased against women.)

    All of these contributions made by Jews to American culture were accompanied by a fourth overlapping trend: the transformation of American academic life. Whether you admire his policies or consider him a dangerous threat to the republic, you have to recognize, as he himself does, that George W. Bush might not have gotten into Yale if he had been born a few years later. To their eternal credit, beginning in the 1960s academic leaders like Yale’s president, Kingman Brewster Jr., understood that their institutions could not continue to be great universities unless they looked beyond a small number of WASPy prep schools and began to admit students based on merit.

    Jews would not only be admitted to universities that had once excluded them; they would also, by the fact of their admission, make the academic research university into a new kind of institution. Peer review, strict standards for tenure, highly selective admissions processes, financial aid based on need — all those facts of the sociological life in the modern research university follow from the decision to use achievement, rather than background, as the basis for the distribution of academic rewards. When research universities came under attack in the 1960s by radical students, many of whom were Jewish, those who rose to defend the university — Nathan Glazer, Seymour Martin Lipset, and Daniel Bell, among others — were also Jewish.

    A t the present moment all four of those cultural venues, which once seemed to reflect the Jewish contribution to American culture, are in either serious decline or in the process of transforming themselves into something radically different from what they were during the decades from the 1940s to the 1970s. Let me proceed in reverse order.

    The effort to establish merit as the main operating principle by which American academic life would be governed lasted about one generation. Ascription has once again become an important element in the way universities understand their mission, even if the ascribed circumstances that give preference these days tend to be those marked by experiences of racial discrimination and poverty more than by breeding and class. There are many sides to the affirmative-action issues — and Jews have been predominantly featured on all of them. But there is also a way in which the decision by elite universities to open themselves up to underrepresented groups is perceived by many Jews as an effort to establish quotas, raising the question of whether the kind of university they had come to love still exists.

    Freud could never have known that pharmacology would be able to perform, at lower cost and with more rapid results, what his method promised, but once it did, psychoanalysis lost much of the mystique that had made it so popular in the post-World War II era. Not only did Freudian methods lose scientific credibility, but they also lost their cultural cachet. To be sure, thinkers like Jacques Lacan continued to inspire theorists in both Europe and the United States, but the great moments of Freudian literary criticism and historical speculation had come to an end. One of the most popular kinds of therapy these days can be found in the self-help books written by Christian evangelicals, not exactly a terrain in which a specifically Jewish contribution can be noted.

    Jewish liberalism continues to flourish; not even President Bush’s strong support of Ariel Sharon produced a significant shift in the 2004 presidential election. Yet there is no doubt that American politics has turned decidedly more conservative in the years since 1980 — or that Jewish intellectuals of a neoconservative bent have played a major role in that change.

    There are many explanations for the rise of neoconservatism. Race was clearly a factor; important Jewish intellectuals, including the future best-selling author Allan Bloom, left Cornell University in the early 1970s, for example, in dismay over what, in their view, was the president’s failure to confront armed black students. And no one can doubt the importance of foreign-policy considerations to the rise of neoconservatism, especially as the Middle East has assumed such importance for American national security. Still, it would have been difficult to predict that the near axiomatic association between liberalism and America identified by Louis Hartz and Trilling would be broken — or that Jews would play such a prominent role in breaking it.

    The Jewish contribution to the Broadway stage is an exception to many of the trends I have been describing here; it has lasted well beyond South Pacific, culminating in the astonishing work of Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, and, most recently, Tony Kushner. Still, as vibrant as the works of those musical and artistic geniuses are, Broadway theater itself is increasingly running revivals of the successful musicals of the Jewish golden age, including Oklahoma! Broadway today is having a difficult time finding what Jewish composers and lyricists of yesterday mastered: music that is neither highbrow and inaccessible nor lowbrow and unfulfilling.

    I do not claim to be making a causal argument here, to the effect that an increasing tendency among Jews to withdraw from mainstream American culture in favor of Jewish identity is responsible for the artistic collapse of Broadway, the accession to power of Tom DeLay and J. Dennis Hastert, Freudianism’s collapse of credibility, and the turn to affirmative action. Some areas of American life in which Jews once played a major role — the kind of comedy that produced Sid Caesar and Mel Brooks, for example — are even more alive now than a few decades past, as the success of a Jerry Seinfeld or a Joan Rivers testifies. No one could seriously claim, moreover, that Jewish contributions to literature are poorer because writers like Allegra Goodman and Nathan Englander pursue specifically Jewish themes.

    Each of the developments I have traced has independent causes: Pharmacology did more to harm psychoanalysis than any cultural transformations, for example, and neoconservatism became more attractive because liberals, Jews and non-Jews alike, really did become elitist in the way they treated issues like crime, race, and poverty.

    Still, the decline of so many cultural arenas in which Jews once played such a crucial role is more than coincidental. Jews from Central Europe brought the United States forms of high culture — philosophy, classical music and opera, literary modernism — that, when blended with American concerns, produced something entirely new. Who today could envision a philosopher of Hannah Arendt’s accomplishments writing for what was a quintessential WASP magazineThe New Yorkeror a character like the late Saul Bellow’s Herzog writing letters to Arendt’s teacher, Martin Heidegger? Jews from Eastern Europe gave us movie classics like Casablanca, an all-American love story taking place in one foreign country occupied by another one. That kind of blending would be threatened if Jews become so focused on their own identity that they lose a zest for blending with the non-Jewish culture around them.

    Each of the facets of American culture upon which I have focused was to one degree or another marginal to American life before massive Jewish immigration in the 20th century. We were generally an anti-intellectual culture that looked to Europe for the idea of the research university; our political system was more likely to have been dominated by Harding-Coolidge-Hoover conservatives than FDR or JFK liberals; psychoanalysis was too foreign to be viewed as attractive to Americans; and our styles of popular theater lacked musical and lyrical sophistication. Jews transformed themselves by adapting to American culture so enthusiastically, but they also helped transform America. There really was a golden age of American culture, and it was a direct product of the blending of immigrant experience with classic American themes.

    New ways will be found to revitalize American culture as new immigrants arrive; we are already witnessing an extraordinary flourishing of literature produced by Indian and Asian writers, a blending of Latino and American culture in popular music, and fascinating examples of religious syncretism. There are many golden ages, and a new one is growing out of the multicultural energies unleashed in the wake of the immigration reforms of 1965.

    Still, there is something to be said for the particular kind of contribution that earlier generations of Jews brought here. Shaped by Enlightenment ideals, it was liberal in the best sense of the term. One need not subscribe to Freud’s ideas to recognize the importance of helping individuals to shape lives under their own control. It gave a whole new meaning to middlebrow art. It helped make American universities the model for the rest of the world to follow. It would be a great shame if such cultural contributions were lost.

    No matter how important it may be for Jews to focus on their own identity so that their Judaism does not disappear, I hope they do not do so in ways that would further undermine the survival of a form of American culture that speaks to the mind and the heart the way the culture of the great Jewish-American synthesis did over the past half-century.

    Alan Wolfe is director of the Boisi Center for Religion and American Public Life and professor of political science at Boston College. His most recent book is Return to Greatness: How America Lost Its Sense of Purpose and What It Needs to Do to Recover It (Princeton University Press, 2005).

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