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  Capitalism and the Jews 
 By Jerry Z. Muller  Princeton University Press 
 Copyright © 2010   Princeton University Press 
All right reserved.   ISBN: 978-0-691-14478-8   
    Introduction 
   Thinking about Jews and Capitalism   
  
  Capitalism has been the most important force   in shaping the fate of the Jews in the modern   world. Of course, one could plausibly argue   that it has been the most important force in   shaping the fate of everyone in the modern   world. But Jews have had a special relationship   with capitalism, for they have been particularly   good at it. Not all of them, of course. But,   whenever they have been allowed to compete   on an equal legal footing, they have tended to   do disproportionately well. This has been a   blessing-and a curse.  
     Jews have been a conspicuous presence in   the history of capitalism, both as symbol and as   reality. Yet the relationship of the Jews to capitalism   has received less attention than its significance   merits. One reason for this relative   neglect is no doubt the division of labor characteristic   of modern academic research. Academic   historians tend to focus on the history of  a particular nation or region-while Jews were   scattered across national and regional boundaries.   The encounter of the Jews with capitalism   confounds disciplinary boundaries as well:   it is the stuff of economic history as well as of   social history, of political history as well ascultural   history, of the history of business, but also   of the family and the nation-state. But there   are other reasons for the relative neglect of the   topic as well. Discussions of Jews and capitalism   touch upon neuralgic subjects.  
     For Jews, Jewish economic success has long   been a source of both pride and embarrassment.   For centuries, Jewish economic success led anti-Semites   to condemn capitalism as a form of   Jewish domination and exploitation, or to attribute   Jewish success to unsavory qualities of   the Jews themselves. The anti-Semitic context   of such discussions led Jews to downplay the   reality of their economic achievement-except   in internal conversations. Moreover, for most people,   the workings of advanced capitalist economies   are opaque and difficult to comprehend.   When economic times are bad and people are   hurting, some inevitably search for a more easily   grasped, concrete target on which to pin   their ill fortunes. That target has often been   the Jews. Even today, some Jews regard the   public discussion of Jews and capitalism as intrinsically   impolitic, as if conspiratorial fantasies   about Jews and money can be eliminated   by prudent silence.  
     For economists and economic historians, the   extent to which modern capitalism has been   shaped by premodern cultural conceptions and   cultural predispositions is a source of puzzlement   at best. It simply doesn't fit into the   categories in which contemporary economic   historians who have adopted the armature of   econometrics are predisposed to think. In recent   decades, economists have added the concept   of "human capital" to their kitbag, by   which they mean the characteristics that make   for economic success. But they prefer to think   of it in terms of measurable criteria such as   years of schooling. To the extent that human   capital involves character traits and varieties of   know-how that are not provided by formal education,   it becomes methodologically elusive.   Much of the reality of economic history, and of   the Jewish role within it, is bound to elude   those who proceed on the tacit premise that "if   you can't count it, it doesn't count."  
     For liberals, the reality of differential group   achievement under conditions of legal equality   is something of a scandal, an affront to egalitarian   assumptions. For it casts a shadow of   doubt on the shibboleth of "equality of opportunity"   If it turns out that the ability to take   advantage of opportunity is deeply influenced   by cultural traits transmitted in the private   realm of the family and the cultural community   then inequality of outcome cannot be attributed   merely to legal discrimination, nor   can it be eliminated by formal, public institutions,   such as schools.  
     For nationalists, the fact that modern nationalism   had fateful consequences for the Jews   precisely because the Jews were so good at capitalism   was itself a source of embarrassment. In   the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries,   many nationalist movements sought to restrict   Jewish citizenship and legal equality out of the   perception (partly founded) that Jews excelled   at capitalist activity compared to their non-Jewish   countrymen. For many nationalists, in   countries from prerevolutionary Russia, to Poland,   Hungary, and Germany the "real" nation   was defined in good part over-and-against the   Jews. When economic life was conceived of as   a zero-sum game, in which the gains of some   could only come at the expense of others, the   gains of the Jews were made responsible for the   psychic or material pains of the "authentic"   members of the nation. The extent to which   the fellow feeling between gentry, artisans,   peasants, and industrial workers was forged in a  shared and cultivated antipathy to the Jewish   "other" is a part of national history that nationalists   would rather forget.  
     For all these reasons, the exploration of Jews   and capitalism has tended to be left to apologists,   ideologues, and anti-Semites. This book,   by contrast, tries to make sense of patterns in   modern history that tend to be neglected by   social scientists.  
     Jews were associated with trade and with the   lending of money long before the rise of a recognizably   modern capitalism in the seventeenth   century. That association would have ongoing   effects. It helps to account for the fact of disproportionate   Jewish success under conditions   of modern capitalism. In addition, the way in   which modern, non Jewish intellectuals thought   about capitalism was often related to how they   thought about Jews. Those evaluations in turn   affected the ways in which Jews thought about   themselves, about their economic role and their   position in society. Jewish intellectuals such as   Moses Mendelssohn were well aware of this   connection, and linked their case for civil equality   for the Jews with arguments about the positive   function of the economic activities in   which Jews were engaged.  
     Yet the disproportionate economic success   of the Jews made them a lightning rod for the  discontent and resentment that was almost everywhere   a product of what Joseph Schumpeter   called the "creative destruction" that was   part and parcel of capitalist dynamism. By that   he meant the displacement of older forms of   production, consumption, and styles of life by   new forms, created by capitalist innovation.   Added to this source of animus was the fact   that the development of capitalism went hand   in hand with the rise of the modern nation-state,   which, in much of the Old World, took   the form of an ethnic nationalism that defined   Jews as outside the national community. That   led to new, more modern forms of anti Jewish   animus, rooted less in religious difference than   in the resentment of Jewish economic success.   And that in turn led a small but salient minority   of Jews to embrace Communism, the most   radical form of anticapitalism. That embrace   had fateful consequences of its own. And finally   it led a growing portion of Jewry to conclude   that in an age of capitalism and nationalism,   Jews needed a nation-state of their own.  
     Thus the interlocking themes of the four essays   that make up this book, which traverse the   boundary between general and Jewish history,   and between intellectual, economic, and political   history. They aim to show the relevance of   the experience of the Jews to the larger themes  of modern European history: of the development   of capitalism, Communism, nationalism,   and fascism. And while focused on modern Europe,   they also deal with the effects of these   phenomena beyond Europe, including the   United States and Israel.  
     When social scientists set out to explain the relationship of the Jews to capitalism, they frequently   make use of the notion of Jews as a   "diasporic merchant minority" That concept   provides an indispensable though ultimately unsatisfactory   framework for understanding the   relationship between Jews and modern capitalism.  Since their dispersion from the Land of   Israel-a dispersion that began when the Jews   still had a sovereign state-Jews have lived as a   diaspora, a minority in the Roman Empire,   then in Christian Europe and in the lands of   Islam. Though by no means a merchant people   for much of their history they became one in   medieval Christendom. Like other diasporic   merchant minorities-the Armenians, or the   Greeks, or overseas Chinese-they developed   transregional trading networks, as well as the   skills and cultural dispositions conducive to   trade. Such minorities are characterized by the   combination of specialized economic competence   and political powerlessness.  
     Yet the category of diasporic merchant minority   is by itself inadequate to grasp the significance   of the Jews in Christian Europe. For   the Jews were permitted to engage in otherwise   stigmatized economic activities, especially   the lending of money at interest, because of   their peculiar place in Christian theology. As   the community from which Christ sprang, they   were to be tolerated. In Christian eyes, it was   the narrative of the Old Testament that provided   the warrant for Jesus' role in the scheme   of salvation. The Jews, as the people of the Old   Testament, were to survive to provide tangible   evidence of the historical depth of the Christian   narrative, and eventually to provide testimony   at the second coming of Christ. But the   failure of the Jews to recognize Jesus as God   was a testament to their blindness, their spiritual   malformation. According to Augustine   and later Christian theologians, Jews were to   be tolerated in Christian Europe-as those of   other faiths were not. But their status had to be   sufficiently inferior to serve as a reminder to   them and to good Christians of the Jews' spiritual   decrepitude. For Christianity the Jew was   the Other, but he was the Other within, both in   the sense that Jews lived in the midst of Christians   and that the Jews' Book (which Christians   believed the Jews had misunderstood) was part   of the core narrative of Christian history.  
     Jews thus had a cultural significance, a radioactive   charge, that was not characteristic of   merchant minorities elsewhere. It was the confluence   of their religious status as tolerated but   despised outsiders, together with their economic   role as merchant minority that was so   fraught. The association of the Jews with the   lending of money at interest was only possible   because they were beyond the community of   the saved. And the association of money with a   theologically stigmatized minority cast an aura   of suspicion around money and moneymaking.  
     Had there been no Jews in Europe, the spread   of capitalism would still have led to anticapitalist   movements as well as to nationalist ones.   But the Jews' premodern commercial experience,   together with their emphasis on literacy,   predisposed them to do disproportionately well   in modern capitalist societies, where success   increasingly depended on commercial acumen   and book-learning. Anticapitalist thought would   stigmatize capitalism by borrowing the conceptual   categories of Christian anti-Semitism   and the traditional condemnation of usury, of   making money with money. The attempt of   European states to modernize-which meant   becoming literate, capitalist societies-gave   rise to ethnic nationalism, which once again   conceived of the Jews as outsiders.  
     In the face of their increasing exclusion from   the ethnically defined community of the nation,  Jews responded in three ways.  
     They migrated to countries in which nationalism   was defined liberally, rather than by   religious or ethnic criteria. That meant, above   all, emigrating westward from Russia, where   the great bulk of world Jewry was located as of   1880-westward to Austria-Hungary, to Germany   to France and to Britain, and above all,   to the United States, until it closed its doors to   further mass immigration in 1924. In liberal   countries-even in incipiently liberal countries,   like the late Habsburg Empire-Jews tended to   embrace liberalism, and a program of integration   into the dominant culture. While some   hoped for complete assimilation and amalgamation,   by and large Jews sought to acculturate   to the host society without complete assimilation.  But the border between liberal forms of   nationalism and illiberal, ethnic forms was a   shifting one, and Jews repeatedly discovered   that liberalizing and welcoming political cultures   could turn illiberal and hostile. That is   what happened in Hungary, Austria, Germany,   France, and even, though in a more diluted   manner, in the United States.  
     The second response of Jews was therefore   to embrace socialist movements that promised  to end invidious distinctions based on origin.   Most socialists attributed the hold of anti-Semitism   to capitalism itself, so that eliminating   capitalism was understood as a formula for   eliminating anti-Semitism. The most radical   and uncompromising of these movements was   Communism.  
     The third major response, by Jews who remained   committed to some form of Jewish   continuity, was Zionism. That movement drew   much of its cogency from an analysis that   claimed that universalist ideologies would   prove a chimera. It argued that the deep-seated   otherness with which the Jews were regarded   in Christian and post-Christian societies would   manifest itself in an increasingly nationalist era   in both anticapitalist and antisocialist forms. So   the early Zionist theorist, Moshe Leib Lilienblum,   warned in 1883. Lilienblum claimed that   cosmopolitans and ethnic nationalists, capitalists   and socialists, freethinkers and orthodox   Christians would all find reasons to despise the   Jews. For each ideological group, finding that   there were Jews in the opposite camp, proceeded   to identify its social or national enemy   with the Jews in general. In the Zionist analysis,   the Jews would continue to be defined as   "other"-when they were capitalists and when   they were socialists, when they were assimilationist   and when they were nationalist, when   they were religious and when they were secular.   The only solution was for the Jews to have   a state of their own.  
  
  The four essays that comprise this volume explore   these intertwined phenomena from a variety   of perspectives. "The Long Shadow of   Usury" examines the way in which the traditional   linkage between Jews and money continued   to be reflected in thinking by modern   European intellectuals about capitalism and   about the Jews. As we will see, an affirmative   approach toward capitalism often went together   with a measure of sympathy toward the   Jews, while antipathy to commerce and antipathy   to the Jews typically went hand in hand.   While the first chapter explores how major   non Jewish intellectuals looked at capitalism   and the Jews, the second chapter, "The Jewish   Response to Capitalism," examines the other   side of the coin. It takes as its launching point a   lecture by the late libertarian economist Milton   Friedman, who puzzled over his observation   that so many Jews had been antipathetic to   capitalism despite the fact that capitalism had   been good for the Jews. The chapter deals with   the reality of disproportionate Jewish economic   success in capitalist societies, with the   awareness by leading Jewish thinkers about the   interconnection between capitalism and Jewry,   and their interpretations and frequent affirmations   of that link. Others of Jewish origin,   however, reacted to capitalism and to modern   anti-Semitism by embracing the most extreme   form of anticapitalism, namely Communism.   The fateful consequences of that embrace,   which most historians have failed to appreciate,   is the subject of the third chapter, "Radical Anticapitalism:   The Jew as Communist." The last   chapter, "The Economics of Nationalism and   the Fate of the Jews in Twentieth-Century Europe,"   explores the relevance of the work of the   late social theorist Ernest Gellner for understanding   modern Jewish history. At the beginning   of the twentieth century the links between   capitalism, nationalism, and the fate of   the Jews had been explored by socialist Zionists,   most notably Dov Ber Borochov Gellner   revived these themes at century's end, offering   what seems to me the single most illuminating   analysis of their relationship. He traced the   link between capitalist economic development   and the rise of nationalism; explained that it   was precisely the Jews' traditional status as a   diasporic merchant minority that led to their  economic success; and showed why that placed   European Jewry in particular peril in the era of   ethnic nationalism.  
  (Continues...)  
  
     
 
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