New Book on Dreyfus

What is To be Done?

Still another Dreyfus book has come out, following hard on the heels of an exhibition in Tel-Aviv of what purports to be “new” information, “revelations” of the importance of the personal life between Alfred and his wife Lucie.  Well, all this, to be sure, reminds anyone out there who has never heard of the Dreyfus Affair, let alone of the man, his wife and the rest of the family, that what happened between 1894 and 1906 (at least) still matters today.  Revising Dreyfus, edited by Maya Balkarsky Katz (Brill 2013), rehashes the same old same old about the affair, but also looks at some of the contemporary libels, propaganda, and satirical drawings inspired by the debates that raged in the last years of the Affair, and points out the relevance to the Zionist movement. 

Two things at least bother me about all this: For one thing, suffering from kicks in my vain kishkas, nobody involved in these productions—and I would add a number of novels as well as very serious scholarly studies, seems to have read any of my books or articles; and it hurts most when the publicists and book reviewers proclaim wonderful breakthroughs, new approaches and very timely pertinence of issues arising from the false charges against Dreyfus, the rigmarole of phoney documents, perjury and worn-out anti-Semitic slurs, and the reluctance of most people involved ever to admit that they were wrong when all—or most—of the evidence finally was made puboic to prove what a cock-up it was.  Since the scholars involved are supposed to have surveyed the field and contacted the relevant researchers, I wonder whose fault it is that my books and articles don’t make a show.  Nobody attacks me.  Nobody seems aware that these materials exist and have for several years.  When I google my name plus Dreyfus, the titles spill out.  Do these other people inhabit a different universe of knowledge?  Do they only cite one another? 

The other thing, which is somewhat related, is how the general public either doesn’t know—are unaware, have forgotten, or don’t care or understand—or so the new advertisements and notices of these books and exhibits assume, when the reviews appear, the interviews are given, and the hoopla runs through the academic world—and the Jewish community newspapers.  This is followed by silence.  For a few months, that is, before the next new book, the latest seminar, the spectacle at some museum or other, during which time everything that was said or shown before disappears from general consciousness, so it all has to be said again. 

It is not my place to alert the academic world, when young and not so young scholars, produce work that I have written about years before—studies of Crypto-Jews Marannos, analyses of encounters between European explorers and first-contact people, the way to read oral texts based on anthropological, rabbinical and aesthetic principles—completely skip over my contribution.  Must I accept, in the middle of my seventh decade, that I am unknown or forgotten or simply not worth knowing because I have no influence, can’t guarantee jobs, or whatever it is that currently gets traded on?  Some people tell me to go out and “Blow your own horn!”  But I was brought up and educated not to do that; it is not the author’s job to tell everybody how important his work is—others must do the evaluating, hopefully in a conscientious and fair way, not in ad hominum attacks as has happened all too often. Other people say, “Go hire a professional publicist!” as though I had the money or the political means to do such a vain thing.   Still others soothe my rage and hurt by reminding me of all the great authors—for example, Nietzsche—who were forced to print their own books and then couldn’t give them away.  Fine, I shall look forward to posthumous recognition in a few hundred years.  My great-great-grandchildren shall be so proud.

But at least I can say these things to you, dear reader of my blog.  Some days there are close to ten of you, and especially my still single “follower”.  It is just good to get this off my chest.  Thank you.