A DELUSION

Dear Abigail and Joe:

Both of you are looking for a way to explain “why antisemitism?” and to figure out what we can do about it. At the risk of disappointing you, let me start by saying caveat emptor, by which I mean that I don’t think I can satisfactorily answer either of these questions. It is hard, if not impossible, to explain something that is essentially irrational, delusional, and absurd. That is the nature of all conspiracy theories, of which antisemitism is just one. Think about it. Why do some people insist that the moon landings took place on a stage set someplace in the American West? Despite the existence of reams of scientific and personal evidence to the contrary, they believe this because they subscribe to the notion that the government and other powerful entities are engaged in vast conspiracies to fool the public.1 Governmental chicanery is the prism through which their view of the world is refracted. However irrational their ideas may seem to us, they make sense to them. Conspiracy theories give events that may seem inexplicable to some people an intentional explanation. If we were to provide these conspiracy theorists with evidence that proves the landing was indeed on the moon, they will a priori dismiss what we say and assume we are part of the conspiracy. To try to defeat an irrational supposition—especially when it is firmly held by its proponents—with a rational explanation is virtually impossible. Any information that does not correspond with the conspiracy theorists’ preferred social, political, or ethnic narrative is ipso facto false. Social scientists have described such theories as having a “self-sealing quality” that makes them “particularly immune to challenge.”2 Conspiracy theories reduce complex issues to the simplest denominator and infuse them with heated exaggerations, suspicions, and fantasies that have no connection to facts. Some people are inclined to dismiss conspiracy theories as relatively benign. They consider people who promulgate them to be mentally unbalanced, right up there with folks who wear tinfoil hats to protect themselves from pernicious radio signals emitted by the government. While one can indeed question how rational these people are, they can still cause real damage.

The delusional aspect of antisemitism became strikingly clear to me in 1972, during my first trip to the Soviet Union. “Refuseniks,” those Soviet Jews who were openly fighting the government for the freedom to emigrate, marveled at how the Communist regime managed to blame so many of its problems on Jews. At the same time that the government was persecuting Jews and spreading antisemitism, many Soviet citizens who hated the Communist regime believed it was a conspiracy of Jews. In a not atypical Jewish reaction to persecution, Refuseniks created a genre of jokes to ease their pain and illustrate the delusions of their oppressors. One has stayed with me. I share it with you in the hope of getting what will inevitably be a sobering exchange off to a humorous—or, more properly put, ironic—start.

The USSR suffered chronic shortages of consumer goods. Early one morning a rumor circulated in Moscow that a store was to receive a shipment of shoes. A queue formed immediately outside the store and continued to grow exponentially. After people had been waiting for an hour or so, the manager emerged and announced, “We will not receive enough shoes to accommodate everyone. Jews, leave the queue and go home.” And they did. A few hours later he emerged again and said, “We will not receive enough shoes to accommodate everyone. All non-veterans, go home.” And they did. A few hours later he emerged yet again and said, “We will not receive enough shoes to accommodate everyone. All those who are not members of the Communist Party, go home.” And they did. As dusk was falling, he emerged for a final time and said, “We will not receive any shoes today. Everyone go home.” Deeply disappointed, two exhausted and shivering loyal Communist Party members, both of whom were World War II veterans, walked away from the store. As they did, one turned to the other and bitterly proclaimed, “Those Jews, they have all the luck!”

Delusional? Irrational? Antisemitic? All of the above? Let’s try to figure it out.

Yours,

DEL

P.S. Abigail, I smiled when I read about the suggestion that the guys on your European jaunt wear baseball caps instead of kippot. During a recent trip to Berlin, a friend gave me directions to an out-of-the-way synagogue. After some intricate explanations, he added, “When you get to the street that it’s on, look out for the police with submachine guns; they’re standing in front of the synagogue. But if you have trouble finding the street, just watch for men in baseball caps and follow them. They will lead you to the synagogue.” I smiled. Sometime later, my friend and I passed a group of tourists. The men were all in baseball caps. He leaned over to me and whispered, “Jews.” I smiled at his certitude. The next day I saw the same group in a synagogue. The caps had been replaced with kippot. As you may well know, in recent years many local Jews have encouraged their coreligionists not to wear kippot in Berlin and other major German cities. Lest you think this is only a German phenomenon, let me disabuse you of that notion. During a recent trip to Italy I was looking for a highly recommended kosher restaurant. I got tangled up in a maze of old circuitous streets and alleyways. Then I saw some guys in baseball caps. On a whim, I followed them and, sure enough, they led me right to the restaurant.

So, baseball caps might not do the trick. But maybe a fruitful exchange of ideas will.

Yours,

DEL