THE BERLIN ANTISEMITISM CONTROVERSY After a long struggle, Jewish emancipation was formally completed in Germany in 1871, when Wilhelm I abolished religious discrimination across the entire Reich. Yet the very same decade witnessed a new wave of antisem‑ itism, one more vicious and virulent than anything before. At its centre was what is known as ‘The Berlin Antisemitism Controversy’. How can this rise of antisemitism be explained when further liberal reform was expected? Can it help us understand the tide of antisemitism that was to engulf Germany fifty years later? In this outstanding book by a leading scholar of German philosophy, Frederick C. Beiser argues that to understand modern antisemitism we must go back in history. Beginning with the background of the controversy and examining the most important antisemitic thinkers of the 1870s and 1880s, he brilliantly analyses the beginnings of modern antisemitism in Germany. Beiser challenges received scholarship that the rise of antisemitism was caused by a failure of the Jews to assimilate and criticises the view, held by Hannah Arendt, that antisemitism was at its peak when Jews were perceived to be powerless and had lost their roles in government and finance. He argues instead that it was fuelled by a fear of Jewish domination that took multi‑ ple forms. Exploring antisemitism from both a historical and philosophical perspective, he situates antisemitism in relation to such fundamental ques‑ tions as the conditions for citizenship in the modern state, what is meant by nationality and what role religion should play in the state. He also vividly and expertly analyses the writings and arguments of those involved in the antisemitism crisis of the 1870s, including Wilhelm Marr, Constantin Frantz and Adolf Treitschke and thinkers who are here examined in English for the first time. The Berlin Antisemitism Controversy sheds much‑needed light on an episode whose shockwaves resonate today. It is a superb account of a crucial period of not only German but also European and Jewish history and essen‑ tial reading for anyone interested in the causes and roots of antisemitism in Germany and beyond. Frederick C. Beiser is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at Syracuse Univer‑ sity, USA. He is one of the most renowned scholars of German philosophy and German idealism, his work garnering many prizes and awards. He has won Thyssen and Humboldt research fellowships at the Free University of Berlin and was a 1994 Guggenheim Fellow. He received a 1999–2000 NEH Faculty Fellowship (at Indiana University) and won the 2015 Journal of the History of Philosophy Book Prize for his The Genesis of Neo‑Kantianism 1796–1880 . He has also received the German Order of Merit for his contri‑ butions to German Philosophy. His many books include The Fate of Reason: German Philosophy from Kant to Fichte, The Romantic Imperative and He‑ gel (also published by Routledge). THE BERLIN ANTISEMITISM CONTROVERSY Frederick C. Beiser Cover image: Juif Lisant ( Jewish Man Reading ), 1870. By Edouard Brandon, 1831–1897. Reproduced with the kind permission of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Photograph © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Frederick C. Beiser The right of Frederick C. Beiser to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice : Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing‑in‑Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging‑in‑Publication Data Names: Beiser, Frederick C., 1949– author. Title: The Berlin Antisemitism controversy / Frederick C. Beiser. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : : Routledge, an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business, [2024] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023054515 (print) | LCCN 2023054516 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032676487 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032676449 (paperback) | ISBN 9781032676463 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Antisemitism—Germany—History—19th century. | Authors, German—Germany—Berlin—Biography. | Berlin (Germany)—Ethnic relations. Classification: LCC DS146.G4 B45 2024 (print) | LCC DS146.G4 (ebook) | DDC 305.892/404309034—dc23/eng/20231228 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023054515 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023054516 ISBN: 978‑1‑032‑67648‑7 (hbk) ISBN: 978‑1‑032‑67644‑9 (pbk) ISBN: 978‑1‑032‑67646‑3 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781032676463 Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra Preface vii Introduction: The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s 1 1 Founders of the Berlin Movement 16 2 The Controversy Begins 55 3 The Controversy Grows, December 1879 82 4 The Controversy Intensifies, January to March 1880 101 5 Toward the Climax, Summer to Autumn 1880 140 6 Climax of the Controversy, November 1880 to January 1881 163 7 Agitators of the Berlin Movement 186 8 Wilhelm Marr, Antisemitic Patriarch 217 9 Constantin Frantz, Philosopher and Antisemite 257 CONTENTS vi Contents 10 Treitschke, Herald of the Reich 295 Conclusion 338 Bibliography: Primary Sources 345 Bibliography: Secondary Sources 355 Index 361 Although it is generally acknowledged that the 1870s was the crucial decade for the rise of modern antisemitism in Germany, there still remains no com‑ prehensive account of antisemitism for these years. Some studies focus on the beginning of the decade, neglecting developments at its end, while others concentrate on the end of the decade, ignoring crucial figures at its begin‑ ning. The purpose of this study is to provide an overview of the decade as a whole, both the central figures of its earlier stages as well as the controversy that came at its end. The first chapter is devoted to the main antisemitic writ‑ ers of the early 1870s, while the next five chapters cover the famous “Berlin antisemitism controversy” of the later 1870s and early 1880s. The last four chapters are detailed studies of the major antisemitic writers of the period. My major task has been straightforward exposition and analysis. I hope to give the reader an idea of what was said, why it was said, and how it was said. I reconstruct an author’s arguments but then subject them to an imma‑ nent critique, evaluating them according to the author’s own standards and assumptions. The main approach to my subject matter—German antisemitism in the 1870s—is both historical and philosophical. It is historical in identifying im‑ portant authors and their texts and placing them in their context; it is philo‑ sophical in analyzing and appraising the arguments they give for these views. The philosophical approach to antisemitism is different from most current studies of antisemitism, because it does not attempt to explain the causes of antisemitism but to determine and evaluate the reasons for it. It therefore does not just assume that antisemitism is irrational, as most causal studies do, but attempts to determine whether, how, and why it is so. PREFACE viii Preface There is evidence that the study of antisemitism is changing. Much of the field so far has been Leidensgeschichte , an account of Jewish suffering at the hands of fanatical persecutors, where little attempt is made to under‑ stand the reasons for their actions. Recently, Albert Lindemann has broken with this tradition and adopted a more balanced approach which attempts to understand and assess the reasons for antisemitism. See his Esau’s Tears (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). I agree with Lindemann’s approach but take it a step further with a philosophical method. The great advantage of such a method is that it suspends all preconceptions and calls for a reconstruction of the reasons for a position; it assesses the strengths and weaknesses of these reasons, regardless of the author’s character or political affiliation. Although I have attempted to provide an overview of the 1870s, it is necessary to stress that my account is still incomplete. There were literally hundreds of pamphlets, articles, and books written during the Berlin anti‑ semitism controversy, and it is impossible to do justice to all. What I have provided here is only a selection from such a huge mass of material; I have chosen to examine those writings that seemed to me the most interesting and important on historical or philosophical grounds. There are two important anthologies on the Berlin antisemitism con‑ troversy, both of which have been especially helpful in writing this book. The first of these is by Walter Boehlich, Der Berliner Antisemitismusstreit (Frankfurt: Insel, 1965), and the second by Karsten Krieger, Der Berliner Antisemitismusstreit (Munich: Sar, 2003), two volumes. While these volumes have been indispensable, I have often found it necessary to go beyond them in considering sources they have omitted. Because these editions often edit or abridge, I have, whenever possible, used and cited the original text. There have been two recent studies of the Berlin antisemitism controversy: Uffa Jensen, Gebildete Doppelg ӓ nger , Bürgerlich Juden und Protestanten im 19. Jahrundert (G ӧ ttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005), and Marcel Stoetzler, The State , the Nation & the Jews (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2008). I have learned much from both studies; however, my philosoph‑ ical approach is very different from their sociological one. Since my main interest is in the argument of the texts, I reconstruct their content in much greater detail than these scholars. Some explanation is necessary for the choice of the three figures exam‑ ined in Chapters 8 through 10. I have chosen to discuss Wilhelm Marr, Constantin Frantz, and Heinrich von Treitschke chiefly because they were the most sophisticated intellects behind the antisemitic movement of the 1870s. The current attitude toward them, which is condescending and dismissive, is based on ignorance and misunderstanding. I have not treated Marx or Bauer because their main writings appeared decades before the 1870s; and I have not discussed Paul Lagarde or Julius Langbehn because their views Preface ix were influential only after the 1870s. In any case, there is already an excellent account of Lagarde and Langbehn in Fritz Stern’s The Politics of Cultural Despair: A Study in the Rise of the Germanic Ideology (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1961), pp. 3–180, a work I cannot hope to improve upon. The three figures of Marr, Frantz, and Treitschke provide a useful study in contrasts, because they show how antisemitic views were embedded in very different, even conflicting, worldviews. Marr was an atheist and anarchist; Frantz was a Christian conservative and a defender of pluralism; and Tre‑ itschke was an apologist for national unity and a single nation‑state. All of them were German nationalists; but they had very different conceptions of the German nation. Together, they show the very different and complicated forms that antisemitism could take in the 1870s. For all its reputed coarse‑ ness and crudity, antisemitism could modify and transform itself into subtle and sophisticated shapes. Frederick C. Beiser Syracuse, New York October 2023 DOI: 10.4324/9781032676463-1 I.1 Judenherrschaft or the Danger of Jewish Hegemony There is general agreement among scholars about the importance of the 1870s for the rise of modern antisemitism in Germany. This was the decade in which the reaction against emancipation arose, from which the later an‑ tisemitic movements grew. After a long struggle, emancipation was formally and finally completed in Germany only in April 22, 1871 when Wilhelm I’s Decree abolishing religious discrimination was extended to the entire Second Reich. 1 But in the very same decade the reaction against emancipation began. To many contemporary observers, this reaction was sudden and surprising. Rather than greater equality and enlightenment, which most liberal thinkers expected, the 1870s witnessed a new wave of antisemitism, one more vicious and virulent than anything before. The decades after 1848 promised greater freedom and equality for all citizens; but the 1870s seemed to shatter these prospects. Why was this so? Why is it that the monster of antisemitism rose again in the 1870s after it seemed dead and buried in the 1860s? This was the question that Jacob Katz posed for himself in his masterly survey of modern antisemitism, From Prejudice to Destruction 2 Here I wish to re‑examine Katz’s question. The main reason for doing so is that Katz has not given an entirely satisfactory answer to it. He has provided one half of the explanation; the other half has escaped him. 1 Paul Mendes‑Flohr and Jehude Reinharz, eds., The Jew in the Modern World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), pp. 138–9. 2 Jacob Katz, From Prejudice to Destruction: Anti‑Semitism, 1700–1933 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980). INTRODUCTION The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s 2 The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s Katz’s explanation for the foundering of emancipation, for the rise of modern antisemitism, is that the Jews failed to integrate or assimilate into modern society. 3 They remained an alien subgroup within Germany, hav‑ ing their own culture, religion, languages (Hebrew and Yiddish), and ethnic identity. Emancipation, Katz maintains, was based on the assumption that this subgroup would disappear, that the Jews would assimilate and melt into German culture, society, and state. When this assumption proved to be false, Katz then argues, the reaction against emancipation began. By refusing to assimilate, by retaining their own culture, religion, and identity, the Jews showed that they were indeed a state within the state, a nation within the nation, which raised troubling questions about their loyalty and allegiance to the new national German state, which was founded only in 1871. Katz is correct that, for many, emancipation came with the expectation of assimilation, and that its disappointment made them question emancipation itself. If the Jews were not willing to assimilate, they asked, why give them the same rights as all Germans? How could they assume the duties and re‑ sponsibilities of citizenship? But Katz’s explanation still leaves out something vitally important, something that does not fall under the rubric of failure to assimilate. This was something of which Katz himself was well aware; but, somehow, he left it out of his final reckoning. What was this? It was the perceived danger of Jewish domination, or what the anti‑Jewish publicists of the 1870s called Judenherrschaft . Almost all the major anti‑Jewish writers of the 1870s express this concern, and almost all of them make it the very heart of the Jewish question. Many of them were happy to accept emancipation in the weak sense of civil equality, i.e., Jews having the same legal rights as non‑Jews; most were troubled, however, by emancipation in the strong sense of political equality, i.e., the right to vote, hold office, and take part in public assemblies. Their doubts about eman‑ cipation in the political sense came from their fear that it gave the Jews a foothold, a starting point, for their domination of German public life. The Jews, so the complaint went, do not simply want equality; they want much more: to rule over Germany. Insofar as these writers wanted to limit emanci‑ pation, it was to prevent what they feared as the Jewish takeover of German economic and political life. To them, growing Jewish dominance raised trou‑ bling questions of national sovereignty: Who was governing Germany? The Germans themselves? Or a tiny “alien” minority? 3 Ibid., 258–9, 304. Cf. Jacob Katz, Out of the Ghetto: The Social Background of Jewish Eman‑ cipation, 1770–1870 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), pp. 213–4. For a similar perspective, see Uffa Jensen, Gebildete Doppelg ӓ nger: Bürgerliche Juden und Protes‑ tanten im 19. Jahrhundert (G ӧ ttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2005), pp. 69–70, 109. The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s 3 For the anti‑Jewish writers of the 1870s, the signs of growing Jewish dom‑ inance were everywhere, but especially in the important realms of finance, politics, and the press. The German financial world seemed to be a Jewish fiefdom, populated by Jews and run by them. It was a fact—so it was said— that of the 642 bankers in Prussia in 1861, only ninety two were Chris‑ tians. 4 It was also a fact—again, so it was said—that 90% of the speculators and brokers on the stock exchange were Jews. 5 Furthermore, the owners of the two leading banking houses in Berlin—Gerson Bleichr ӧ der and David Hansemann—were Jews. German politics also seemed to be a Jewish domin‑ ion. The national‑liberal party, which dominated politics in the 1870s, was led by three Jews, by Eduard Lasker, Ludwig Bamberger and Heinrich Op‑ penheim. The chief political advisor to Bismarck, who was Chancellor in the 1870s, was also a Jew: Gerson Bleichr ӧ der. Whatever Bleichr ӧ der advised, Bismarck, a naif in matters of finance and economic policy, simply followed and put into effect. The press too seemed to be firmly in Jewish hands. 6 The two leading national newspapers—the National ‑ Zeitung and the Frankfurter Zeitung— were owned and edited by Jews. There were twenty‑one daily newspapers in Berlin, thirteen of which were owned by Jews, and only four of which had no connection with them. There were three satiric magazines— Ulk, Kladderadatsch, and Berliner Wespe —all of which were written or ed‑ ited by Jews. The so‑called “liberal press” was also largely founded, edited, and written by Jews. The assumption of Jewish ownership and control of the liberal press was so entrenched and widespread that it was usually referred to simply as the “ Judenpresse ”. For these writers, all these apparent facts added up to one very troubling conclusion: that Germany was now ruled by a tiny “alien” minority, by a semitic people whose power and influence far surpassed its size in the general population. It was difficult to deny that to control finance, the main politi‑ cal party, and the press was really to hold the major sources of power in the country. To these writers, it seemed that the overthrow of the old monarchy and aristocracy had led only to the installment of another form of hereditary rule; the Jews were the Bourbons, the Habsburgs, of the new modern age; they were the ancien régime of the 1870s. The anti‑Jewish writers of the 1870s supported their concerns about Jew‑ ish domination with an economic theory all their own. This theory, which was put forward by Otto Glagau, Constantin Frantz, Franz Perrrot, and Carl 4 Franz Perrot, Die Aera Bleichr ӧ der‑Delbrück‑Camphausen (Berlin: Niendorf, 1876), p. 4. 5 Otto Glagau, Der B ӧ rsen und Gründungs‑Schwindel in Berlin (Leipzig: Paul Frohberg, 1876), p. xxv. We will assess Glagau’s claims below in Chapter 1, Section 1.1. 6 On these facts, see Peter G.J. Pulzer, The Rise of Political Anti‑Semitism in Germany and Austria (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1964), p. 13. 4 The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s Wilmanns, 7 stressed the role of finance in the modern economy. According to their theory, the chief source of power in the modern economy comes not from industry but from finance, from the banks and stock market, which are the main means of acquiring, controlling and distributing capital. Those who have most money are the real masters of the economy, these authors argued, because they control how, when, and where capital is invested. With‑ out capital, nothing moves in the economy, neither trade, nor industry nor agriculture. These writers were highly critical of Marx, whom, they believed, had overrated the role of industry in the accumulation of capital. Marx as‑ sumed that capital came entirely from the industrialist’s exploitation of labor; but there were other more important sources of capital, viz., trade, the stock market, financial transactions. Industry is only one branch of the economy, which depends entirely on finance to fund its operations. Granted that the source of economic power comes from finance, then the powerful role of the Jews in the modern economy becomes clear. They dominate the financial world—the banks and the stock market—and so they rule the economy itself. The Rothschilds, they loved to point out, were more powerful than all the kings of Europe, who had to pay homage to them. The theme of Jewish hegemony was anything but new in the 1870s. It was not an invention of that decade but had been a leitmotif of anti‑Jewish litera‑ ture for generations. The theme goes back at least to Eisenmenger’s Entdeck‑ tes Judenthum , 8 which claimed that the Jews saw themselves as the chosen people who have the right to rule over all other peoples. It appears often in anti‑Jewish writings in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, which warn against emancipation on the grounds that it will eventually result in Jewish domination. Alphonse Toussenel’s Les juifs rois de l’époque , 9 which main‑ tained that France was governed by the “financial feudalism” of the Jews, had an important influence on German antisemitic writers in the 1870s. The whole theme was revived in the 1870s by August Rohling’s Talmudjude , 10 which was a popular version of Eisenmenger. 7 See Constantin Frantz, Der F ӧ deralismus (Mainz: Franz Kirchheim, 1879), pp. 42–5; Carl Wilmanns, Die goldene Internationale und die Nothwendigkeit einer social Reformpartei (Berlin: Niendorf, 1876), pp. 9, 17, 37–8, 56; and Franz Perrot, Der Bank‑, B ӧ rsen‑ und Actienschwindel. Dritte Abtheilung: Die Actienwesen (Rostock: Werther’s Verlag, 1876), pp. 1–22; and Der Kampf gegen die Ausbeutung des Publikums durch die Banknoten‑ schwindel und die Papierpest (Rostock: Ernst Kuhn’s Verlag, 1872), pp. ix–x. 8 Johann Andreas Eisenmenger, Entdecktes Judenthum (K ӧ nigsberg: Mit Seiner K ӧ nigl. Majest. in Preussen allergn ӓ digsten Special‑Privilegia, 1711), Erster Theil, Das XIV Kapitel , pp. 568–88. 9 The book was first published in 1845 under the title Les juifs, rois de l’epoque historie de la féodalité financière (Paris: À la Librairie de l’Ècole societaire, 1845). 10 Prof. Dr. Aug. Rohling, Der Talmudjude , Vierte Auflage (Münster: Adolph Russell’s Verlag, 1872), pp. 3, 63–6. Rohling’s book was cited by Frantz and Wilmanns. The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s 5 What was new in the 1870s was not the theme of Jewish domination itself, but the fear that it had now become a reality. The fact that the Jews were now the dominant power in finance, politics, and the press only seemed to vindicate Eisenmenger and the old warnings about emancipation. Now that the Jews had been emancipated, now that they had press, finance, and poli‑ tics in their grasp, they were posed to take over the country. No one gave this theme a more dramatic rendering in the 1870s than Wilhelm Marr, who, in his influential Der Sieg des Judenthums über das Germanenthum , 11 declared that the Jews had already achieved their great victory and that the Germans should admit defeat. Marr’s popular work symbolized the theme of Jewish domination, making it into the leitmotif of antisemitism in the late 1870s and early 1880s. Assuming that we give great importance to the fear of Jewish domination as a chief source of the rise of modern antisemitism, then we have to reject Hannah Arendt’s opening thesis in The Origins of Totalitarianism that an‑ tisemitism was directed against “wealth without power”, that it reached its zenith when the Jews had “lost their public functions and their influence, and were left with nothing but their wealth”. 12 Arendt maintains that antisem‑ itism “reached its climax” when the Jews were perceived to be powerless and when they had lost their function in government and finance. People respect power, even if it is oppressive, Arendt explains, but they never recognize wealth without power, which seems to them a form of parasitism. At best Arendt’s thesis has some plausibility for the 1930s when the Nazis came to power and when Jewish power was in decline; but it has no power to explain the origins of antisemitism. Then the very opposite was the case: antisem‑ itism arose from the perception of increasing power among the Jews, and it was a reaction against that power. The antisemitic writings in the 1870s and 1880s were almost always directed against growing Jewish power, whether in the press, finance, government, or industry; complaints against idle riches or parasitism played virtually no role. The problem was the threat to German political sovereignty, not the burden of having an idle elite. In any case, it is not the fact but the perception of growing Jewish power that is decisive. Even if Jewish power were in decline in the 1870s, which is implausible, and even if the Jews never had interest in gaining power, which Arendt more plausibly argues, 13 the problem still remains that the antisemitic writers of that age still feared and believed in the danger of Jewish domination. Though these fears were irrational, they were decisive in determining their ideology and actions. 11 Wilhelm Marr, Der Sieg des Judenthums über das Germanenthum (Bern: Costenoble, 1879). 12 Hannah Arendt, Antisemitism. Part One of the Origins of Totalitarianism (San Diego, CA: Harcourt, Brace Jovanovich, 1968), pp. 4–5. 13 Ibid., p. 24. 6 The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s Not the least problem with Arendt’s thesis is that it takes us away from a proper evaluation of the content of modern antisemitism. Such an evalua‑ tion involves of necessity a scrutiny of the theory of Jewish domination. The crucial question is: Is that theory true? Or is it the product of fear and obses‑ sion? We will have occasion to examine this theory in the course of studying the polemical literature of the 1870s; but here we do well to summarize very briefly some of the main problems with the theory. Let us assume that the antisemitic writers were correct in their statistics about Jewish domination of the economy, politics, and press. It is difficult today to assess the truth of these figures; but, for the purpose of argument, we can accept that they are true. It does not follow from them, however, that Germany was suffering under “alien” rule. The fact remained that the Jews who “ruled” these institutions were Germans, or at least they saw themselves as such; they regarded Germany as their home and they were eager to be of service to it. This raises the difficult question of German nationality, what constitutes it or what makes someone German, which we will examine be‑ low; but it is clear that the theory of Jewish domination begged this impor‑ tant question. Another dubious assumption behind the theory was that the Jews formed a single coherent group working for themselves. 14 The apparent danger to national sovereignty arose because the leaders of finance, press, and industry seemed to be a cabal. This was a recurrence of the old conspiracy theory, for which there was no factual evidence. Indeed, the evidence more than indi‑ cated that these leaders had nothing more in common than the fact that they were, partially or fully, of Jewish descent. The most disturbing aspect of the theory is that it targets all Jews, mak‑ ing the activities of a small minority representative of the Jewish people as a whole. Granted, all or most of the bankers and brokers were Jews; the converse does not hold: that all or most Jews were bankers and brokers. The bankers and brokers were a small minority among the Jews, just as small as their proportion in the general population. The fact remained that, in the first half of the 19th century, the majority of the Jewish population was very poor; only in the 1870s did they manage to achieve middle‑class status. 15 14 On the profound differences among Jews themselves, see Eleonore Sterling, Judenha β Die Anf ӓ nge des politischen Antisemitismus in Deutschland (1815–1850) (Frankfurt: Europ ӓ ische Verlagsanstalt, 1969), pp. 36–46; and Ismar Schorsch, Jewish Reactions to Anti‑Semitism, 1870–1914 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), pp. 30–6. See also Chapter 8, Section 8.6. 15 On the income and economic status of the Jews, see Sterling, Judenha β , pp. 29–35; Re‑ inhard Rürup, Emanzipation und Antisemitismus (G ӧ ttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975), pp. 26–7, 45, 141; and Jacob Toury, Soziale und Politische Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland, 1847–1871 (Düsseldorf: Droste Verlag, 1977), p. 113. The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s 7 Last but not least, the theory really misidentifies the source of the prob‑ lems it hopes to expose. The “social problem”—the fact that the great major‑ ity of the working population in Germany lived in poverty—had its source in capitalism and liberal economics; it hardly mattered that the capitalists and liberal economists were Jews. The same problem would arise even if some other group were in control of industry, finance and the stock market. The theory of Jewish domination was essentially irrelevant because it focused on who controlled the banks and stock markets rather than the workings and effects of the system itself. It is indeed striking that workers in the social democratic party had little interest in antisemitism. It was not important to them who exploited them; what troubled them was the system of exploita‑ tion itself. From this perspective, it is tempting to assume that antisemitism was simply a tool in behalf of conservative interests, of all those pillars of the establishment which felt threatened by social‑democratic forces. 16 I.2 Nationalism and Antisemitism The antisemitism of the 1870s did not arise from fear of Jewish domination alone. It also came from another fear, one no less troubling: the concern for national unity. These fears both arose from German nationalism, and both are aspects of it. But they are distinct aspects, posing very different questions. The first fear raises the question of national sovereignty , of who governs the nation; the second poses the issue of national unity , of whether Germany, despite all its ethnic, cultural, and religious differences, can be still a single nation and state. It is with regard to the second fear that Katz’s explanation is appropriate and accurate. The failure of assimilation was worrying because it seemed to mean that Germany could not be a united nation. In seeing both these fears as aspects of nationalism, we are again forced to disagree with Hannah Arendt about the origins of antisemitism. She protests against any identification of antisemitism with nationalism, maintaining that “antisemitism grew as traditional nationalism declined”. 17 Here again Arendt takes the 1930s as her starting point, which she then reads back into history. If we begin with the 1870s themselves, however, we are compelled to locate 16 This is the thesis of Werner Jochmann, Gesellschaftskrise und Judenfeindschaft in Deutschland 1870–1945 (Hamburg: Hans Christians Verlag, 1988), pp. 32, 63. We will have occasion to confirm Jochmann’s thesis below, Chapter 7, Section 7.2. 17 Arendt, Antisemitism , p. 3. Part of the evidence for Arendt’s thesis comes from her inter‑ pretation of the antisemitic parties in Germany, which had an international agenda in their battle against Judaism. See pp. 4, 38–42. But here Arendt confuses the international strategy of these groups with their nationalist ideals . All of them were concerned to wrest national sovereignty from the Jews. This is the case even with Marr, who was the most international in his political perspective. Arendt herself is later forced to acknowledge the force of what she calls “nationalistic antisemitism” (p. 48). 8 The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s antisemitism in the context of nationalism. The origins of antisemitism dur‑ ing that decade—so we will see time and again in the following pages—were closely interwoven with the issues of national sovereignty and unity. Nation‑ alism, it has been rightly said, 18 was “the new religion of the age”, which made the Jews seem more foreign than ever before. It was indeed no accident that Germany became a single nation only in the beginning of the 1870s, the very decade when the reaction against eman‑ cipation arose. The second Reich came into existence in January 1871 when Wilhelm I was declared German Emperor in the Hall of Mirrors in the Pal‑ ace of Versailles. But the creation of the new Reich came with considerable anxiety about its unity, whether the new nation could ever really be one. The new unity seemed at best fragile. There were not only the many re‑ gional differences, which were ethnic and cultural, but there were also old religious differences, the division of Germany into Protestant and Catholic lands. The old religious question, which had been the cause of so much sor‑ row and bloodshed in the 17th century, returned to haunt the new Reich Germany was now united under the rule of Prussia, which was traditionally a Protestant kingdom where the state exercised complete sovereignty over religious affairs. Would the Catholic parts of Germany allow themselves to be subsumed under such a state? Would they be loyal to Prussia, especially when Pope Pius IX had just declared, in 1870, his infallibility? And when he insisted upon complete sovereignty over all religious affairs in the Catholic territories? This question greatly troubled Bismarck, the German Chancellor, who feared that his new Reich would fissure if the Catholic lands did not recognize his authority. To secure national unity, Bismarck embarked on a program of legislation in 1872 to curtail the powers of the Catholic Church in educational and religious matters. The resistance of the Church to these measures resulted in the famous Kulturkampf , the battle between Bismarck and the Pope for control over education and religion in the new Reich. The Kulturkampf , if it demonstrated anything, showed that national unity could not be treated as a given in Germany, that it was at best a task, a goal that could be approached, but never achieved, only through the hardest struggle. The Catholics were not the only religious group to pose problems for na‑ tional unity. There were also, of course, the Jews. In sheer numbers they were much less a problem than the Catholics. The Catholics comprised 36.5% of the population of the new Reich , whereas the Jews were only 1.25%. Never‑ theless, despite their small numbers, the Jews posed much greater problems than the Catholics. Unlike the Catholics, the Jews were perceived as “a group apart”. 19 They were seen as distinct from the rest of the population—both 18 See Adolf Leschnitzer, The Magic Background of Modern Anti‑Semitism (New York: Inter‑ national Universities Press, 1956), pp. 131–4, 156–7. 19 Katz, Out of the Ghetto , p. 20. The Rise of Antisemitism in the 1870s 9 Catholic and Protestant—not only in their religion, but also in their culture, ethnic origin, and language (Yiddish and Hebrew). They were a people who were not only set apart (by discriminatory laws), but who also set themselves apart (by choice and tradition). 20 They led their lives in an exclusively Jew‑ ish enclave, where they followed their own traditions regarding birth, death, family, marriage, education, and vocation. The orthodox shunned social contacts with their Christian neighbors, with whom they would not eat or drink, and next to whom they would not be buried. No wonder that most Germans saw them as an “alien people”. Because of their distinct culture and identity, the Jews seemed to be a completely distinct nation, indeed “a nation within a nation”. Yet all the irony and tragedy lay here: this allegedly “alien” people spoke German, which they saw as their native tongue; they had lived in Germany for centuries; and most regarded themselves as, and only wanted to be, Germans. 21 The most troubling aspect of this people lay with their politics. Here too the Jews seemed a group apart. German governments gave the Jews consid‑ erable autonomy in the governance of their own local affairs. They had the authority to collect their own taxes, to regulate the conduct of their congre‑ gations, and to punish wrongdoers. There were also Jewish courts to deal with litigation between Jews according to Jewish law. More importantly, their ultimate political allegiance, at least for many of the orthodox, was not to the state in which they lived, Germany, but to their own ideal state, the Jewish state in Palestine. Their deepest commitment was to this ideal, which appeared in the Hagada and which was celebrated every Passover. Because of this ideal, and because they had their own local government, the Jews seemed to be more than just “a nation within a nation”; they were also “a state within a state”. 22 This state within a state raised disturbing questions. What if the state in which the Jews lived were in danger, in peril of invasion, and what if it needed all its manpower to defend itself? Would the Jews be ready to join the defense? Would they be willing to lay down their lives for the state if their ultimate loyalty was really to Israel? This question was first posed in 1781 by Christian Wilhelm Dohm, an early champion of emancipation, in 20 This portrait of Jewish life before emancipation is taken from Katz’s Out of the Ghetto and his Tradition and Crisis: Jewish Society at the End of the Middle Ages (New York: Schochen, 1971). 21 On the problem of divided loyalty among German Jews, see especially Paul Mendes‑Flohr, German Jews: A Dual Identity (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999). 22 On the phrase “state within a state”, see Jacob Katz, ‘A State within a State: The History of an Anti‑Semitic Slogan’, Proceedings of the Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities IV (1971), 29–58.