Jews and Latinos Tsvi Blame/ya rd he headline in the Spanish daily La Prensa read: ?Hispanic Triumph.? The occasion: the victory in the newly drawn Twelfth District of chal- lenger Nydia Velanuez over nine-term congressman Stephen Solarz in the Democratic primary. Although Solarz attempted to appeal to the district?s Hispanic majority on the basis of his seniority in the House and his consequent political clout, the race he- came an uncomfortable example of ?ethnic identity pol- itics,? 1992 style. To the Hispanic community, Solarz was an outsider who did not speak their language or share their culture. During his tenure in Congress he had identified himself heavily with Jewish?primarily pro-Israel?issues and had little in his record that he- spoke concern for Hi5panics. Despite the incumbent?s attempts to learn Spanish and his pitch that he could best represent the district, Solarz was cast as a member of the political establishment bent on keeping ethnic newcomers politically voiceless. During the campaign, the Latino opposition to So- larz unfortunately devolved into friction between the Latino and Jewish communities. Armando Montano, a Hispanic lawyer, gave expression to what must have been, and may still be, on the minds of many Latinos when he was widely quoted as saying, ?It is time for the Jewish community to share with the Latino community, because they can?t have everything.? Despite the deeply troubling nature of these words, Jews need to empathize with the feeling behind them and focus on what they imply for Jewish-Hispanic relations. They signal that the traditional liberal, eth- nically neutral position of the American Jewish com- munity vis a vis its neighbors is too narrow a vision. However well-intentioned Solarz and his supporters in New York and elsewhere?including the English- language Forward and the New Republic?are, they are profoundly mistaken that alliance building, as usual, is an adequate response to the new ethnic iden- tity-based politics. Rabbi TwiBlanc/aard, Hillel director at New Ybr/e University, is a and a mediator for competing social groups. Re-envisioning the ethnic dimension of Jewish poli- tics means transcending the universalist/particularist di- chotomy that has dominated enlightened Jewish discourse about our place in the world since the eigh- teenth century. The Enlightenment?s vision of a univer- sal humanity guided by reason toward a higher social order captured the imagination of many emancipated Jews of the time, who fled their religious and cultural particularity in search of this more universal identity. Since the emerging European nationalism that helped end the Middle Ages did not disappear, however, the po- litical concept of the ?citizen? represented the compro- mise between a Europe that was increasingly leaving religious particularism behind, while still retaining re- gional identities. For Jews, too, mediating positions ex- isted between complete assimilation into ?humanity? and isolation. In the countries where it was possible, many Jews opted for the new national identity offered them, knowing that to be French or German was far safer and more profitable than remaining ?only? Jewish. Some Jews allied with progressive forces to work for a more humane universal social order. Social democratic Jews advocated, in theory far more than in practice, the coin- cidence of national identity and a universal moral vision. In America, Jews found a country far more open and fluid in its categories than those they left behind in Eu- rope. Merit seemed to replace earlier anti-Semitic rules and policies grounded in the inherited privileges of class or clan. Bringing with them the baggage of the Enlight~ enment, American Jews felt that to be socially liberal meant supporting a society of merit over one where power and opportunity derived from class, race, or religion. But America?s melting-pot ethos has been a double- edged sword for Jews. Many recognize that they have paid a heavy price in meaning for the surrender of their particular identity: while escaping the danger of op? pressive conservative nationalism, Jews have been deeply wounded by the consequent loss of their culture and history. Progressive Jews?perhaps the staunchest holdouts for the eighteenth century universalist ideal? are now ready to reconsider the role of ethnic identity in both politics and civil society. 47 Particular identities provide the richest context of meaning for otherwise isolated individuals born of mod- ern capitalist and postcapitalist societies. The critically supportive mutuality implied in the notion of ?living to- gether? grows within the womb of ethnic and regional institutions. A truly progressive approach must preserve the moral vision of universalism while recognizing the value of particular identities. Judaism traditionally has valued community. The Mishna puts it directly: Do not separate from the com- munity. Individuals share a common fate and should co- operate to ease life?s burdens. The fundamental Jewish commitment to loving kindness (hesed) is expressed in myriad acts of comfort and support expected from the community as a whole. Whatever the roles assigned to individuals and families, Jews have also expected the community to provide a structure to ease the vulnera- bilities of human existence. Thus, we meet the world as members of communi- ties. Our identity and self-esteem derive in part from the community to which we belong. At their best, commu- nities offer their members a vision of a well-lived life and the resources to achieve it. we wish to retain and encourage the nurturing qualities of particular identities yet prevent them from devolving into the con?icts that historically have accompanied strong ethnic, national, and religious commitments, we can start by reconsidering the con- cepts of identity and society that previously have shaped the debate. The assumption has been that individual and group identity are fixed and static, each with inherent prejudices and misunderstandings of the ?others.? In this static model, society is a collection of these fixed identities. Even in such progressive models as Jesse Jack- son?s ?quilt? or New York mayor David Dinkins?s ?mo- saic,? the parts do not interact or in?uence each other; they simply stand side by side. But the present socio-political realities demand new metaphors and a new approach. Neither individual not group identities are static?they develop and change over time. And, in a multiethnic society, groups must be able to work together, often in situations in which there are com- peting needs. Thus, the model of society must be dynamic, the metaphors those of communication and interaction. In genuine conversation, there is interchange and mu- tual in?uence without submersion of individual identity. Drawing on the work of the German philosopher and social theorist Jiirgen Habermas, I believe we should seek a progressive, noncoercive model of effective in- tergroup communication. In this model, universalism derives not from an em- pirically given set of shared human characteristics, but 48 VOL. 7, No. 6 from the normative demands growing out of intergroup discussion. Because conservative ethnic and nationalist movements lack the noncoercive mutual recognition of a progressive socio-political ?discussion process? that can move us toward universality, they are drawn into vi- olent con?ict. To put it simply: They may be able to bar- gain and negotiate, but they can?t really talk to each other. Jews should reject the ?look out for namher one? vision of American ethnicity, the conservative canard that we let ?them? in, there won?t he room for as. I want to suggest three values of progressive conver- sation for the Jewish community in its dealings with other ethnic groups: OHuman dignity. In a progressive discussion, partic- ipants leave with their dignity intact. This requires giv? ing everyone an equal voice. For example, we now understand that wealth, property, or literacy should not keep anyone out of the political process. To have dig- nity is to have a voice. 0Freedom. The heart of conversational freedom is noncoercive discussion. Progressives have long under- stood that such freedom demands relative equality of opportunity, wealth, or any other endowments that might give one speaker power over another. The histo- ries of union organizing and the feminist movement, for example, have taught us that people are not free to speak their minds or enter the discussion to begin with when they fear the consequences. OShared Fate. We talk to one another out of recogni- tion that we live in the same world and share the same fate. For example, it was instructive to watch otherwise competing ethnic groups in New York City come to- gether recently in opposition to the shared threat of an environmentally hazardous incinerator. An ethnicity that constitutes a fortress may seem secure, but it blinds us to our commonality with those on the outside. The new progressive paradigm for a multiethnic poli- tics must be collaborative, not competitive. In the case of Jewish?Latino relations in New York, the implications are clear. Jews must articulate a vision that assures the Latino community that we refuse to compete for housing, health care, education, and jobs. We need to rewrite the politi- cal ground rules: From now on,_nobody has enough if somebody doesn?t have enough. (Continued on p. 76) 1 agreed to unlatch the shuttered window of the Goldman apartment. He?d brought over a ladder and the ladder now Spanned the airwell, from our bathroom to the Goldman?s. We were to cross over and hide in the va- cant apartment until the transport left. Vanderzee would see that we got to England. It was all arranged. ?You made plans and said nothing to me?? ?It?s arranged. There?s nothing to discuss.? ?You expect me to walk on air into the Goldman?s?? ?With Willy to help it will be no problem.? ?And how will you get across?? ?You heard the easy part. Now the hard part. One of us has to stay and explain where the others are. I?m the logical one because there?s no way I can cross over to the Goldman?s. Our only chance is to separate.? ?Never!? ?Think clearly, Helen. Vanderzee will see that you get to England. There you?ll find my cousin Landesman and, I promise, in a few weeks we?ll be together.? ?How can that be?? ?Landesman is rich. Money makes everything possi- ble. I assure you, it?s arranged.? ?No, she said, ?If you cross on the ladder, I?ll cross on the ladder. If you go down to the Plaza, I?ll go down to the Plaza. If you go East, I?ll be on your heels.? ?There?s no time for discussion. We have to move right now, this second.? ?If Landesman can rescue one he can rescue two.? The loudspeaker warned that anyone who didn?t come down immediately would be severely punished. It was his intention from the beginning to come around to me. ?It has to be you, Willy. You?re our only hope.? He wanted me to cross over to the Goldman apartment by my- self and set in motion the arrangements for their rescue. She sloughed off the fantasy of Polish farm life in an instant. She begged me to obey my father. ?Go now, Willy. For our sake, go.? They hustled me into the bathroom. The window was wide open. A wooden ladder extended across the air- well into the Goldman apartment. The shutter had been left ajar by the obliging janitor. Father stuck a roll of bills in my pocket and pushed me to the window. ?We?ll be together in a few weeks.? ?And the relocation?? fairy tale.? I climbed on the commode, then climbed down again and held them both. She said. ?Quick! They?re coming!? We heard them beating on doors on their way upstairs. ?They?ll call my name at the roll call. Father said he would tell them I left on an earlier transport. ?They want this business finished. They won?t investigate. 76 VOL. 7, No. 6 a I They hammered on our door and father shouted, YOUR ON THE I st00ped under the window, crawled out on the un- steady ladder, three floors up. It was only a few feet to the Goldman?s. The bottom of the airwell was loaded with debris. I saw a stuffed animal, perhaps Hanna Goldman?s teddy bear. I crossed on hands and knees, stepped down into the Goldman?s bathroom. Father pushed my suitcase out on the ladder and I brought it in. The ladder crashed on the debris below. COMING, YOU GOT NO Mother strained to pull down the window, her hat awry, the brown jacket of her suit streaked with grime from the outer sill. ?Take care, my lovely boy,? and that was the last I saw of her. To stay alive I crawled a few feet through air into a bare room infiltrated by slats of light coming through the seams of a closed shutter. I stayed until all sound stopped. In my dreams, Fanya says, ?Find a place and I?ll do anything.? I run after the tram. I catch it before it reaches the Central Station. I yell, ?Get off! There is no relocation.? She pats the seat reserved for me and fifty years later I still lack the heart for the journey. ?Heartless Willy, how will you survive?? and I say, ?Not well, Mother, and ask to be forgiven. Forgive me, Mother, forgive me, Father, forgive me, Fanya and Isaac and Bessie and SOphie, but the abandoned dead give me no relief. JEws AND LATINOS (Continued from p. 48) Jews also need to support social and economic poli- cies that enable the Latino community to participate freely in the political process. In New York, such poli- cies include programs to encourage jobs, provide ade- quate housing, and foster protective rather than abusive policing. It also means recognition of the importance of Latino culture and language. Hispanics must have an equal voice in the political discussion. Thus, when 25 percent of the city?s residents are Hispanic, they must be seen and heard. While eq- uity cannot be ensured by a quota system, it is never- theless a fact that having someone else speak for you is at best ventriloquism, not true voice. Progressive Jews may not revel in the defeat of Solarz, but we can nonethe- less celebrate the election of Nydia Velazquez. Finally, Jews should reject the ?look out for number one? vision of American ethnicity,- the conservative ca- nard that if we let ?them? in, there won?t be room for us. There is a venerable tradition in Jewish thought for a more expansive notion of who and what we are, be- ginning in the Bible, amplified in the Talmud, and preva? lent in the works of modern Jewish thinkers. The great mystic Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (1865-1935) ex- pressed it well: One cannot reach the exalted position of being able to recite the verse from the morning prayer (I Chronicles 16:8), ?Praise the Lord, invoke His name, declare His works among the nations,? without experiencing the deep, inner love stirring one to solicitousness for all nations, to improve their material state, to promote their happiness. This disposition qualifies the Jewish people to experience the spirit of the Messiah. El AUSCHWITZ (Continued from p. 33) terror here? Or do we restore them to their historically accurate, original forms to convey the full horror of the enterprise? While most of the group voiced warm appreciation and admiration for the job done by the museum?s Over? worked, undercompensated staff, all agreed that it was time to address the training of the young Polish guides. In her command of the facts, our Polish guide, Wanda, had been exemplary. But hers was not?could not have been?a Jewish narrative of Auschwitz. We thus pro- posed that teachers from Holocaust education centers such as Facing History and Ourselves in Boston or Is? rael?s Yad Vashem be recruited to conduct training sem- inars precisely to teach the Jewish narrative of events, which is still not being adequately told. We then looked to the preparation of the Jewish guides who often accompany groups from Israel and America and found that, in fact, they rarely told the P01- z's/a narrative to their Jewish charges. In open sessions with the Auschwitz Museum staff, we were alerted to this problem when Wanda, polite and extremely reluev tant to offend her guests, painfully related stories of be- ing verbally abused by angry Jewish youth groups. In their frustration and memory-ignited rage, Jewish visitors to the camp had begun to confuse their Polish tour guides for SS guards. We tried to explain to Wanda that for many of the Jewish visitors, the nearest objects of rage and frustration were too often their guides, the surround ing Polish population, and the country itself. We also re- solved to improve the preparation of Jewish groups to make sure that they knew enough of the Polish narrative to distinguish between Nazi killers and Polish victims. Indeed, given the overwhelming proportion of Pol- ish and Christian visitors to Auschwitz, we had to rec- ognize that Auschwitz-Birkenau would necessarily func- tion as a shared memorial space, where Polish Catholics will remember as Polish Catholics, even when they re- member Jewish victims. As Jews, we do not locate the victims in a Polish Catholic martyrological tradition. But neither can we expect Polish Catholics to recite the mourners? Kaddish. As Jews recall events in the metaphors of their tradition, so will Poles remember in the forms of their faith. The problem may not be that Poles deliberately displaceJewish memory of Auschwitz with their own, but that in a country bereft of its Jews, these memorials can do little but cultivate Polish mem- ory. In this light, we realized that Auschwitz is part of a national landscape of suffering, one coordinate among others by which both Jews and Poles continue to grasp their present lives in light of a remembered past. With all this in mind, it is clear to me that any pre- scription for institutional memory at Auschwitz would be, like memorials themselves, provisional. Most of our proposals will be adopted, others debated further, refined, augmented, and perhaps elided altogether. In- deed, the process itself reminds us that as much as we desire it, no memorial is really everlasting: Each is shaped and understood in the context of its time and place, its meanings contingent on evolving political re- alities. Perhaps the wisest course, therefore, will be to build into the memorial at Auschwitz a capacity for change in new times and circumstances, to make explicit the kinds of meanings this site holds for us now, even as we make room for the new meanings this site will surely engender in the next generation. For once we make clear how many people died there, for what reasons, and at whose hands, it will be up to future commemorators to find their own significance in this past. El SOUTH AFRICA (Continued from p. 61 to stanch a yawning, irreparable guilt?-?a lifetime?s worth??with a wad of paper money. My sister tells me that she and her husband have given Mavis R1000 (about $400, a substantial sum in that econ- omy) to build a new mud-brick house, because her fam- ily was left homeless in the township violence. But, she adds, ?Don?t tell Mom. What did I learn from my return to South Africa? I learned that I don?t have a well-developed sense of place: that is not how I remember things. I learned that I will never understand South Africa because I don?t want to: I just want to reject it. I learned that there are some things in life, in fami- FICTION 77