Joseph Cronin

Of the myriad ways in which the Soviet Union attempted to exert control over its new vassal states in Eastern Europe after the Second World War, the use of 'soft power' – which US political scientist Joseph Nye described as 'the power of attraction'[1] – is undoubtedly the least studied. It is this topic that Texas-based historian Patryk Babiracki turns his attention to in his first book-length study, which forms part of 'The New Cold War History' series published by the University of North Carolina Press.

ladimir Kaminer has become something of a poster-boy for the ‘Kontingentflüchtlinge [Quota Refugees]’, the term applied to Jews from the former Soviet Union who immigrated to Germany between 1990 and 2006, as a result of a decision made first by the GDR and then adopted by the reunified Federal Republic. Kaminer writes little about his Jewishness in his work, but, in his first book, Russendisko (2000), he discusses the Jewish identity of Russian-speaking Jews living in Germany, viewed through the lens of Multikulti [multicultural] Berlin. Kaminer depicts them as just another of Germany’s ethnic minority groups and, as such, nothing special. Given both Germany’s past and the reasons offered by the German government for allowing these Jews to emigrate in the first place, Kaminer’s opinion is undoubtedly controversial. This article investigates how and why Kaminer adopts this position. It examines the pre-migration experiences of Jews from the former Soviet Union, which include: antise...

spurned from the very outset by the Turkish sultan, Abdul Hamid II. Herzl’s search for a resolution through the mechanism of a great power engendered the encounter of Zionism and Britain. Although this marriage eventually produced the Balfour Declaration and the Mandate, in Herzl’s lifetime it wound up with the fiasco of the Uganda Plan. Penslar wonders whether Herzl seriously meant to promote an African alternative for the Jewish state in the belief that this would give the Jews a provisional path to rescue, or whether it was, from his standpoint, just another bit of political theatre, the kind of sleight of hand of which he was fond. Even if Penslar notes correctly that in Herzl it is always hard to tell the two apart, one may assume with reasonable certainty that Herzl would not have found partners with enough resolve and idealism to make this political spectacle a sustainable reality. Ayear earlier, in 1902, Herzl published his novel Altneuland, which did not come to pass as Herzl envisioned it—the formation of a democratic cooperative commonwealth twenty years later. Penslar notes with much justice, however, that since the establishment of the State of Israel, Zionists have taken pride in this utopian novel, considering their state the fulfillment of the Herzlian vision of a tolerant and progressive society. Is this really the face of Israel in 2020? At the very least, one may say that Israel is too often pictured otherwise. As for whether this real-life Altneuland will again become the enchanted vision of the state of the Jews, time will tell.

This chapter investigates the political disputes between Russian-speaking and long-established Jews within Jewish communities, and how these threatened the longstanding Einheitsgemeinde (‘unified community’) model. The author examines the ways in which Jewish community leaders allegedly tried to manipulate the votes of new Russian-speaking members in community elections, or prevented them from voting entirely. He also looks at how, as a result of longstanding disputes, some Jewish communities split entirely, and new communities, composed predominantly of Russian-speaking members, were set up, much to the consternation of long-established Jewish leaders. The chapter concludes by reflecting on the potential consequences of this fragmentation for a Jewish community that had, ever since the Holocaust, always prided itself on being stronger united in the face of external threats.

Wladimir Kaminer has become something of a poster-boy for the 'Kontingentflüchtlinge [Quota Refugees]', the term applied to Jews from the former Soviet Union who immigrated to Germany between 1990 and 2006, as a result of a decision made first by the GDR and then adopted by the reunified Federal Republic. Kaminer writes little about his Jewishness in his work, but, in his first book, Russendisko (2000), he discusses the Jewish identity of Russian-speaking Jews living in Germany, viewed through the lens of Multikulti [multicultural] Berlin. Kaminer depicts them as just another of Germany's ethnic minority groups and, as such, nothing special. Given both Germany's past and the reasons offered by the German government for allowing these Jews to emigrate in the first place, Kaminer's opinion is undoubtedly controversial. This article investigates how and why Kaminer adopts this position. It examines the pre-migration experiences of Jews from the former Soviet Union, which include: antisemitism, attitudes towards religion and discourse about the Holocaust in the Soviet Union, as well as the experiences (more unique to Kaminer) of Berlin in the 1990s, the heyday of multicultural optimism. Although Kaminer is an unusual case study who deliberately subverts the reader's expectations of his identity politics, this article aims to show that his writings on Russian-speaking Jews, while highly subjective, have a wider application than might first appear.

This article argues that the Fassbinder controversy, which took place in Frankfurt in October 1985, was a turning point in Jewish life in the Federal Republic. It was the first time Jews had taken to a public stage (quite literally) in order to demonstrate, in this case against a play they deemed to be antisemitic. This effectively put an end to the attitude of reticence and conformity that defined the initial postwar decades, in which Jews living in Germany sat on metaphorical “packed suitcases”, ready to move on at any moment. Although the demonstration united the generation of Holocaust survivors and their children’s generation, an analysis of the discourse used in the debate shows that the demonstration had different meanings for these two generations. As such, the Fassbinder controversy can also be seen as signalling a generational transition within Germany’s Jewish community.

In summer 1987, the remains of Frankfurt’s medieval Jewish ghetto were unearthed by construction workers excavating a car park to make way for a new municipal building. When no effort was made by the city authorities or by Frankfurt’s Jewish community to stop the building work, an action group called Rettet den Börneplatz (‘Save Börneplatz’) occupied the site. This article will investigate, firstly, why Frankfurt’s Jewish community failed to do anything to prevent the building work going ahead. Secondly, it will analyse the debates surrounding the excavation which were concerned with whether the Holocaust changed the meaning of this medieval ghetto. The questions raised in these debates included: Is it appropriate to characterize a pre-modern Jewish quarter as a ‘ghetto’ in light of the Jewish ghettos of the early 1940s? Is there any connection between these two types of ghetto? Does drawing a connection relativize the singularity of the Holocaust? How should we view the oppression of Jews in pre-modern periods in light of the Nazi persecution? Finally, this article will look at why young Frankfurt Jews, in particular, wanted to preserve the ghetto remains.

The publicity surrounding the German empire has not been good lately, to put it mildly. In August 2020, several hundred members of the far-right Reichsbürger ('Reich Citizens') group tried to storm the German parliament building in Berlin. They did so while holding the red, white, and black flags of Imperial Germany. 'It is shameful', Foreign Minister Heiko Maas tweeted in response, 'to have flags of the German Reich in front of Parliament'.