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Rene Pintac-Divinagracia - Review of Jack Zipes, The Operated Jew and the Operated Goy: Two Tales of Anti-Semitism

Rene Pintac-Divinagracia - Review of Jack Zipes, The Operated Jew and the Operated Goy: Two Tales of Anti-Semitism


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Jack Zipes’s The Operated Jew and the Operated Goy: Two Tales of Anti-Semitism is a meaningfully powerful work of academia. The book argues that The Operated Jew (1893), Oskar Panizza’s psychologically horrific story of a Jew going through “operations” to become a “European,” receives a response of sorts nearly three decades later by Salomo Friedlaender’s The Operated Goy (1922). And though this argument is “only” a theory, the methodology is such that readers will find themselves exploring many avenues of antisemitic thought, as well as Jewish thought in general–all with that argument as a springboard. From Panizza, whose writing, though antisemitic, contained true nuggets of wisdom on a closer look, to Friedlaender, whose grotesque stories were born out of a passion for Kantian philosophy and a hope that persisted through World War II–and finally, to Zipes himself, whose passion of research, and the connection he’s created with the two authors, shines through in his analysis of them.

Structurally, the book is intelligently streamlined. The preface, the newest part added to the reissued book, provides context on the meaning of “operation,” both physically and psychologically. Zipes then relates that to his own experiences–how he too had unknowingly performed “operations” on himself–and the current state of Israeli Jews in 2023. “Preliminary Diagnosis” (1-46) continues this building of context, discussing the resurgence of antisemitism in 1990s Poland and arguing that “Redemption can only occur…if graves are turned over and ghosts exhumed…Oskar Panizza and Salomo Friedlaender” (3). With this statement, an analysis of the past to build toward the future, Zipes succinctly conveys the importance of his research. The following research is organized very well. After the two stories, it’s clear that the two essays that follow are meant to be read in the order given, as the second essay refers back to the first in its arguments. In those arguments, it is Zipes’ identity as a Jewish man and general empathy that makes the writing and quality of research so valuable. Context is key, and those elements, one after the other, show in his analysis.

For example, in “Oskar Panizza: The Operated German as Operated Jew” (87-109), Zipes is able to empathize and examine the moments of wit that Panizza is able to convey in his writing, but without absolving the man of his very clear antisemitic attitudes. Zipes says that The Operated Jew is “a can of choice meat filled with worms…the story is surely one of the most repulsive and insightful narratives ever written about German anti-Semitism” (87). With that powerful analogy, Zipes is able to go into the specifics of Panizza’s occasionally insightful, paranoid nature. He informs that, while Panizza subscribed to every stereotype of the Jewish people, he respected the “intellectual prowess and mercantile talents” of them. Panizza was also very anti-establishment, having clear hatred for the Catholic church as a Lutheran, and considered himself an outcast through the lens of his general paranoia. Thus, he could find identification with outcast groups, even Jews.

Zipes asserts this nuance when he writes the following: “to explore the complex nature of Panizza's depiction of Jews: the operated Jew, Faitel Stern, was both an indicator of Panizza's anti-Semitism and a literary device meant to articulate his critical notions of eugenics and to explore his own inability to adapt to German society” (97). His main argument is summarized in the title of this section of the book; he writes that “after his prison experiences of 1895-96…he realized more consciously how much his own suffering was related to the way Jews were being treated. The Jew, Panizza perceived, was part of himself.” This context of personal history shows the nuanced complexities of Panizza’s character, yes, but the fact that these subconscious attitudes were able to be gleaned in the first place shows the empathy present in Zipes’s analysis.

In the case of “Salomo Friedlaender: The Anonymous Jew as Laughing Philosopher”(110-137), Zipes shows the evident passion in his research once more. It’s clear through his writing that, as a Jew, there’s a part of him that looks up to Friedlaender, a prime example being the tone of his words when he gives amazed praise: “Friedlaender never gave up hope.… It is remarkable if not baffling how he kept a balanced perspective on the developments in Germany and could even distance himself from what happened to his own life” (125). This clear emotional identification, though, doesn’t get in the way of Zipes’s insightful analysis. He doesn’t shy away from the context of Friedlaender’s strained relationship with his father (115), nor the fact that he wrote some admittedly bizarre stories, called Grotesken (117).

Through this acknowledgement, Zipes is able to introduce the idea that Friedlaender’s life was one of balancing extremes: “on the one hand, Salomo Friedlaender, the bourgeois writer of philosophical treatises, and on the other, Mynona, the Bohemian artist of the grotesque.” And, with this idea, he’s able to build his argument that Friedlaender used the extreme that was “laughter” to counter the extreme known as antisemitism: “It is through laughter, then, that the author Friedlaender wants to undermine prejudice and violence…for he also pokes fun at himself” (129). If “operations” are a solemn self-hatred of identity, then the “cure” Zipes introduces is laughter, its opposite, a creative form of levity.

All in all, Zipes’ commentary is a fascinating exploration of the Jewish identity, structured through the lens of two very different men and the interplay between their insights. Other than the strange addition of introducing an entirely, previously unmentioned author named Edgar Hilsenrath and summarizing his 1977 novel right before the conclusion of his second essay, Two Tales of Anti-Semitism holds very cohesive pacing, ideas flowing into each other quite well. All held together by Zipes’s empathy and passion–the secret third tale in the discussion of antisemitism, one could say.

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[Review length: 975 words • Review posted on February 6, 2025]