TRADITION Questions: Anti-Romcom and Antisemitism

Chaim Strauchler Tradition Online | May 16, 2024

What is it?

A change is taking place in our understanding of antisemitism. What was once seen as a straightforward prejudice is now interpreted as a narrative archetype. In educating about the Holocaust, Jews universalized antisemitism by treating it as but one form of hate. In assimilating into Western society, we attempted to assimilate the antipathy toward our distinct identity, itself. We claimed that the Holocaust did not just show the ultimate destination of animosity toward Jews but also the consequences of hatred toward any and all peoples.

Antisemitism’s recent upsurge shows the failure of such efforts. Recognizing that antisemitism is not like “regular racism,” some now present it as a conspiracy theory. “Where the white racist regards blacks as inferior, the anti-Semite imagines that Jews have preternatural power to afflict humankind,” reports one writer. Others use the phrase shape-shifting, “Hatred of Jews is a shape-shifting phenomenon that historically has melded with the prejudices of the time in order to gain greater political currency. Jews have been hated for reasons of religion, race, lack of national attachments, and now an excess of national attachment.”

Yet, if antisemitism is not a form of prejudice, what is it? What does it mean to be a theory or a story? How can a story be countered if it is both amorphous and imperishable?

Why does it matter?

If antisemitism is in fact a theory (conspiratorial or otherwise), examining the rules of narratives might afford some insight into it. The anti-romantic comedy (anti-romcom) might provide a useful analogy.

A romantic comedy (Shakespearean or otherwise) is a love story, focused on a series of humorous circumstances and characters. Love is frustrated through misunderstandings, but the story finally ends happily with the couple together. An anti-romantic comedy must contain humor, and it must have an element of romance; if it did not, it would not be categorized as it is. In an anti-romantic comedy, the boy does not get the girl, but the thwarted love comes from within the characters’ own tormented psyches instead of from external influences as in romantic comedy. Examples of the anti-romcom include classics films like “Gone with the Wind,” “A Star is Born,” and George Bernard Shaw’s play “Arms and the Man.”

Antisemitism can be understood as an anti-story to the Jewish story. Taking the exodus as an example, “What would an anti-Passover story be?” We cannot remove Jews from the story. We cannot remove God from the story. Otherwise, it’s not anti-Passover; it’s a totally different story. The “anti” part of the story requires some change which reverses the story. The Jews enslave and oppress others. The Jews serve to frustrate God’s plans and the interests of all humanity.

Blood libels and the Protocols of the Elders of Zion retain a critical element of the Jewish story – the uniqueness of the Jew. Jews are not nobodies in these stories. They are not stupid. They are devious manipulators who attack children and control weak-minded political leaders for devious ends. They are puppet-masters who might control the world if they are not exposed and defeated. The Holocaust, as a story, has been similarly inverted.

The Jewish story and the anti-Jewish story play with one another. The popular modern formulation of tikkun olam might be described as an anti-antisemitism story. In response to antisemitic narratives that describe Jews as uniquely destroying the world, Jews exceptionally repair the world. We say, “Jews don’t dominate the world – Jews make it better.” Yet, the consistent assumption in both narratives is that the Jew is special, capable, industrious, and world changing.

What useful outcomes emerge from understanding antisemitism as the Jewish anti-story? We shouldn’t quixotically attempt to defeat antisemitism. Antisemitism is the natural outcome of the Jewish mission in history. For every action, there is a reaction. Judaism is not inert. If Torah changes the world for the better, we should expect resistance from those who do not want change. Jews, in fact, really are special.

Rather, as Jews, we should claim our own narrative. Like the recent open letter from Jewish Columbia students, we must speak in our own name. In embodying Judaism, we take ownership of our story. Ultimately, this is not just words; we make the Jewish story by the lives that we live and by the relationships we create. The best way to defeat the false antisemitic story is to tell and live the true Jewish story.

What questions remain?

Criticizing the state of Israel is not antisemitic; delegitimizing its existence is. Going back to the prophets, Jews criticize Jews. These critiques often make use of an anti-story. Isaiah (1:10) compares the Jews to the leaders of Sodom. Liturgy inverts the Passover story to compare moments of elation to those of despair. (Recall, for example, the Tisha B’Av Kinna “Eish Tukad). How do these anti-stories reinforce the core Jewish story rather than undermine it?

What distinguishes the Jewish story from the anti-Jewish story? In matters of human self-understanding, how do a Jew and antisemite differ? Is the Jewish story more optimistic? Does antisemitism lead to fear, cynicism, nihilism, and apathy? What happens to societies that adopt antisemitic outlooks separate from the crimes they commit against the Jews among them? Are there useful outcomes from incorporating the Jewish story into oneself?

Rabbi Chaim Strauchler is an Associate Editor of TRADITION.

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