Why Do The Goyim Hate Us So Much?
They envy our
intellectual leadership of Europe whose thought is Jew-born and Jew-bred. Europe not only think in Jewish terms, but all
her enterprises are motivated by the personalities of Jew…..There is not a
program, a sentiment or a conviction a European can choose to follow but he
just follow a Jew—whether it be Bergson, Marx or Freud.[i]
Samuel Roth continues this statement by asking, rhetorically, in his
conversation with the British Jewish writer Israel Zangill, “Why should not the
intelligentsia of Europe hate us?”
To
which he goes on to say, rather amazingly, given that this booklet was
published in 1925: “Time and again we have humiliated them. We began by giving them Christianity and for
two thousand years they have trying to live up to it.” Like José Faur, Roth and Zangwill see that
anti-Semitism is not really based on biology or racism or religion—though these
are all rationalizations and inform the discourses of the Jew-haters, with
today being added the argument of politics, particularly the suppose failures
and illegitimacy of the State of Israel as a Jewish State. The wandering and stateless existence of Jews
in the Dispersion and the abject status as money-lenders, peddlers and
inn-keepers having been replaced by the vast variety of professions, artistic
careers, and scientific achievements, the old calumnies which therefore should
have died out remain notwithstanding and defy all logic and commonsense, let
alone historical fact.
And still
further, as Roth and Zangwill discuss, there are two other considerations that
are involved with the persistence of anti-Semitism and its fundamental core of
beliefs: the first is that many Jews themselves are taken in by the
belief-structure of anti-Semitism and out of self-loathing make themselves
willing witnesses of the depraved, vicious and toxic qualities of Jewishness
and Judaism, to the point of outright conversion and confession of supposed
depravities in their erstwhile families and communities (today meaning Israel);
the second is that the standard histories, philosophies and artistic paradigms,
having been shaped by Christians—in a sense, as the two conversationalists
indicate, based on misunderstanding of Jewish ideas of Justice and Truth and on a felt need to reject those core
values and create alternatives that undermine such principles—the would-be
assimilated or secular Jew finds him or herself contending with
deeply-ingrained instincts, attitudes and intellectual modes of thinking. Then
speaking of Theodor Herzl, the founder of modern political Zionism, Roth
explains to Zangwill:
Herzl stood alone in his own
light and the light revealed a vista of terrible, unsurmountable dangers. But he had taken the first step. He had pronounced the magic words: We are a
people, one people.” There was no
drawing back.[ii]
And then Roth says, hardly aware of how understated his comments are in
the light of what would happen within a few years across the face of Europe:
Once uttered these words
portended danger as well as imminent achievement. The world, after all, was hostile to Jews,
the Dreyfus Affair having proved how little it took to excite Europe into a
fury of Jew hatred. No Jew has ever been
as sensitive as Herzl to the physical harms to which his people was being
exposed….Who knows but that the declaration of Jewish unity might tempt the
world into more extravagances against them?[iii]
Whenever possible, the Judeophobes do their best to deny Jewish artists
and authors their rightful place in the history of European and modern
civilization, just as they do their best to claim that the Hebrew race cannot
think or feel in a way that improves—but if at all, that harms—the real peoples
of Europe. If it is not possible to
destroy or surpress the actual artistic works, as in the case of Heine above,
then the anti-Semites reassign authorship, plug the hole with an alternative
history, and very soon the general public and also the rising generation of
scholars are none the wiser.
And so another example.
In February 1939, the Sephardic-French travel writer and musician André
Suarès wrote a brief notes in La Nouvelle
Revue Française.[iv] It begins with a notice for 27 October on the
nature of space, the conceptualization and experience of music in various
modalities of art, a rather dreamy and vague little essay. Then comes a notice for 17 November entitles
“Lorelei”. Suarès starts this piece by
recalling how horrible life was in the trenches during the Great War, not
least of which was the way the Germans would go through the muddy lines they
overran, killing bodies they found still breathing and stripping them of their
goods—men without honor, killing bodies they found still breathing and
stripping them of their goods—scavengers without any moral sense or respect for
human dignity. This leads him into a
recollection of the famous poem by Heinrich Heine, a Jewish albeit converted
writer:
C’est la Lorelei,
un chef-d’œuvre où la poésie du people rhénan, avec toute la rêverie du ciel
sur le beau fleuve, palpite dans le coeur féerique de l’Ondine. La Lorelei
est d’Henri Heine.
It is the Lorelei, a
masterpiece of poetry wherein the poetic spirit of the Rhennish nation, with
all heavenly dreaminess on the beautiful river, pulsates with the fairy heart
of the Ondine. The Lorelei is by Heinrich Heine.
Without mentioning that Heine was a born Jew, Suarès describes the
almost quintessential German Romantic feelings the poem evokes, feelings that
have become part of the German soul.
The writer continues by describing the impact of Heine’s lyric on the
development of poetry and music in Germany.
Toute l’Allemagne du XIXe siècle a
chanté ce poème, la récite ou l’a relu avec délices. Tous les musiciens l’ont mis en musique. De 1840 à 1880, pas un poème n’a parlé d’un
ton plus intime de l’imagination allemande au cœur allemand.
All of nineteenth-century
Germany sang this poem, recited it or read it over and over with great
delight. All composers put it to
music. From 1840 to 1880 not a poem
could speak with such great intimacy of the German imagination or the German
heart.
But then comes the turn in tone and theme.
Quelque cent ans plus tard hier, ce poème
qu’on n’a pas osé chasser des écoles, y est encoure ; mais au lieu de dire
qu’il est d’Henri Heine, on l’imprime et on le répand sous la mention :
« Auteur inconnu. »
Only yesterday a hundred years
later, this poem which no one would dare remove from school curricula remains
there; but in place of stating that it is by Heinrich Heine, it is printed and
distributed with the notice: “Author unknown.”
Without mentioning his identity as a Jew and indicating that the removal
of his name and the replacement by the anonymous marker belongs to the Nazis
who have gained power in Germany, Suarès begins to pull the first part of his
little essay together with this second part: the Germans who plundered the dead
in the trenches are now plundering their own homeland of its Jewish
heritage. He thus characterizes their
actions in strikingly angry tones:
Une prévarication plus vile, une plus basse
infamie ne s’est jamais vue. Jamais
chacals sur un champ de bataille n’ont dévalise plus ignoblement un
cadavre. Jamais hyènes n’ont déchire ni souille
plus salement un mort. Car les chacals
et les hyènes dévorent les reste des vivants : ils ne les tuent pas.
A more vile lies, a more base
infamy has never been seen. Never have
the jackals on the battlefield more ignobly stripped a corpse. Never have hyenas more grossly soiled a
cadaver. For jackals and hyenas eat only
the remains of the living; they do not kill them.
In the event, for all his
attempts to point out the evils of the Nazi regime and to have his
fell-wwriters and intellectuals stand up against the Nazis, Suarès was almost
alone in his campaign. He was isolated
as a Jew who could not understand the reality of politics of the 1930s. Moreover, when he also tried tow arn his
artistic friends about what the truth was about Stalin’s regime in the USSR and
its pernicious influence elsewhere in Europe and the world, the reaction was
worse. Insofar as almost all the writers
and intellectuals of France were on the left—those on the right who at first
weren’t more than conservative or monarchist found themselves driven into
radical, fascist and Nazi-type parties as a way to defend their own positions
in universities, newspapers literary journals, and other media—he stood on the
outside and was increasingly ostracized.
Though one of the early editors of the Nouvelle Revue Française, he was pushed off by the start of the
Second World War, had his books rejected by familiar publishing houses, and, of
course, when the German Occupation began, was forced to flee to the south. When he finally returned to Paris in late
1945, he was a sick and lonely old man, and died soon after. There has been a small effort in recent years
to print his books again and revive his name amongst the great writers of then
early twentieth century—something that clearly has not been successful. The break in continuity and the long silence
has interfered with the lines of influence he might have had. Here, then, is another example of the
consequences of anti-Semitism in the world of art and letters, where a Jew,
once famous and influential, has been all but removed from the history books,
leaving the real picture of who constituted the corps of authors and what
constituted the corpus of texts that shaped modern literature distorted.
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