People Love Dead Jews: Reports from a Haunted Present
by Dara Horn
W. W. Norton & Company
History | Nonfiction | Religion & Spirituality
Publication Date 07 Sep 2021
“An exploration of how Jewish history is exploited to comfort the living.”
People Love Dead Jews is a collection of essays on the disturbing and occasionally surreal ways the world gives attention to dead Jews and how this attention shapes the treatment of living Jews today. Author Dara Horn shares how individuals and institutions represent Jewish suffering and how this suffering is repurposed for the benefit of others.
These nuanced accounts cover a number of time periods and places, with a few key themes running through the chapters.
The first is trying to preserve the past through writing, record keeping and cultural preservation. This seems natural when discussing a people which has faced cultural destruction, banishment and genocide for generations upon generations. The second is that many are more familiar with and prefer their Jewish stories to be about ‘dead Jews’ rather than to learn about or help preserve living Jewish culture. I knew I would enjoy this book in the opening story of how the author took part in an academic competition in Tennessee as a teenager. Her Jewishness was questioned because of her blond hair and blue eyes when one of the other girls said I “thought Hitler said you all were dark.” The author recognizes decades later that those girls were not stupid and probably not bigoted, but rather that their total knowledge of the Jewish people and their history was rooted in school lessons based on what Hitler said about them.
People Love Dead Jews focuses heavily on the arts, including the restoration of Jewish historical sites, the development of Holocaust museum exhibits and portrayals of Jews in film and literature. Having lived in China and toured the reconstructed and redeveloping Jewish areas of Shanghai, I could relate well to the chapter on the reconstruction of Jewish sites in Harbin. The author takes a sad, cynical look at the lack of true historic preservation (frankly not uncommon across all types of sites in China) and how this area was developed in hopes of boosting tourism and potential Israeli investment. What good does it do if it doesn’t explain why there aren’t any Jews there now? Or why they were there in the first place? Or how they were fleeced and murdered? Or when the exhibits display fake objects?
Renovated Jewish heritage sites are springing up everywhere, but avoid “all those pesky moral concerns – about, say, why these “sites” exist to begin with evaporate in a mist of goodwill.” In many parts of the world, you can no longer travel to meet Jewish people, you can only visit their graves. Many Americans are completely unaware that Jewish families have lived in areas such as North Africa, the Middle East or Asia. Another blood pressure raising example is when the famous Anne Frank House dragged their feet on allowing a Jewish employee to wear his yarmulke to work. As Horn says, “I had mistaken the enormous public interest in past Jewish suffering for a sign of respect for living Jews. I was very wrong.” I found her brief comments on what she considered to be the sources of modern anti-Semitism to be very interesting and wish she had written more on this subject. For example, when I was young, the 1997 film Life is Beautiful was quite popular, but it wasn’t at all uncommon to hear derogatory comments about someone being, looking or acting Jewish (even if they weren’t Jewish) from what seemed like the most unlikely sources. Would they be ‘called out’ nowadays or is making comments about groups such as Jews or Roma somehow acceptable even amongst progressive groups because one can slip these comments through by saying they’re a culture, rather than a race?
There were two things that took me by surprise in this book.
The first was the collective memory myth American Jews have created about changing their surnames when pursuing education or employment. Evidently many families didn’t even want to admit to themselves discrimination was an issue in the new world, and so created stories that their names were changed quickly by some silly bureaucrat at Ellis Island. Bravely contradicting this popular narrative, the author shows thousands of court cases where Jewish people were legally changing their names to avoid discrimination. Of course, they didn’t want to tell their children and grandchildren they had changed it out of necessity rather than accident.
In a world where “Anti-Semitism” has a high bar of being the Holocaust, lower levels of persecution or intolerance slide by, and especially when that bigotry is quietly visible where “Jews themselves are choosing to reject their own traditions. It is a form of weaponized shame.” There’s genocide and there’s also the slow dismantling of Jewish civilisation. Jews hiding their identity and changing their names is a story that goes all the way back to Esther and Purim. In these name changes, we “witness ordinary American Jews in the debasing act of succumbing to discrimination instead of fighting it.” Of course, Horn recognises that sometimes you have to prioritise feeding your family over fighting discrimination.
This section keenly observes how American Jews might have completely different experiences and struggles based on their personal history, place of residence or their class. Similarly, in another section, the violence against American Jews is justified by the local community and media because they were ‘gentrifying’ the area, even when the victims were living in poverty and had moved to that area to avoid the soaring prices of where they had come from. It seems only recently that mainstream English language books and online articles are catching up to the fact that Americans of Jewish background are a diverse group and aren’t necessarily Ashkenazi, well off and living in certain zip codes.
The second surprise was how Yiddish and Hebrew literature differs from English literature in how they portray Jewish suffering. The Hollywood films and “uplifting” books which use concentration camps as a back-story have reduced victims to mere metaphors. Many English language books want a Holocaust story to have a redemptive ending where a protagonist learns something. Better yet, non-Jewish rescuers should be involved to save some “hapless Jews.” The Jews who should be saved should be very relatable, not terribly religious and certainly not speak Yiddish. The Jewish suffering must serve some larger purpose and provide closure for the reader. This demand requires real dead Jews to “teach us about the beauty of the world and the wonders of redemption- otherwise, what was the point of killing them in the first place?” Of course, we know that the vast majority of real victims had their possessions seized and their families and love turned to ash. For those who survived, there was little welcome or support for them in their home countries after the war. In Yiddish literature, “the language of the culture that was successfully destroyed, one doesn’t find many musings on the kindness of strangers.” In this essay and others, the author helpfully shares her recommended Jewish literature, often available in translation, so your ‘to-read’ list will certainly grow after reading this book.
The profile of American journalist Varian Fry, who rescued hundreds of artists, musicians, scientists and other intellectuals was a real page turner. Again, this book challenges our assumptions about what sort of person can be a brave rescuer and how victims to should act and respond. Here the author uses her incisive talent for puncturing the ‘feel good’ nature of these stories. Yes, it was wonderful that Fry did all he could despite his lack of resources, crumbling marriage and his own troubled mental health. He complained, “No, we should be able to save them all. Why just the world’s greatest painter?” Fry painfully understood that the U.S. government was only willing to save certain useful Jews, and that they determined what culture was worth preservation. Certain sub-cultures of Jewish arts and learning were wiped out forever, because they were determined by outsiders to be not worth the effort of saving. This cultural loss is again reflected in the chapter on Diarna, which uses new technologies such as 3-D modelling, satellite images, photography, and other methods to allow users to virtually visit disappearing or recently destroyed Jewish heritage sites.
Another heartbreaking theme of this book is the recent deadly attacks on Jewish places of education and worship within the United States. When it comes to mass shootings at Jewish spaces, the author carefully reviews how the media coverage excuses these attacks, which contradicts the common belief that ‘Jews control the media.’ If Jews controlled all the media, attacks on Jewish children in the United States would not be excused by poorly researched articles providing “context” about why the victims deserved it. In one powerful paragraph, she describes how incredibly detailed holocaust museum exhibits mask lower level attacks on Jews that might not be “systemic” enough for the American public. Arson, assaults, shootings? Not the holocaust. “Doxxing Jewish journalists is definitely not the Holocaust. Harassing Jewish college students is also not the Holocaust…It is quite amazing how many things are not the Holocaust.” Are we educating people about bigotry or are we giving them ideas?
People Love Dead Jews covers a number of heavy topics which will shatter preconceived notions and have you rethink the media you consume. Despite the themes outlined above, this book is often darkly funny and relatable. Well, relatable if you’ve experienced any sort of anti-Semitism or read a best selling concentration camp romance novel. The author’s voice comes through as if this was a close friend relating how these representations affect her and her loved ones. You feel the frustration over the hypocrisy, the fake concern and the commodification of Jewish suffering.
This book was provided by W. W. Norton & Company for review.