enna in 1882, and the Jewish cultural association Mikra
Kodesh (Holy Assembly), which had its origins in Lemberg (Lwo´w) in 1883, provided the institutional foundations for the development of national politics among
Jews (p. 69). Mikra Kodesh, for example, “offered free
Hebrew language courses, lessons in Jewish history and related subjects and weekly Saturday afternoon lectures” (p. 62).
Despite these spirited activities, “Jewish nationalism in Galicia . . . remained through the end of the nineteenth century a movement largely of the secular intelligentsia, especially students” (p. 109). This changed toward the end of the century with the advent of a popular Jewish press in Yiddish. Various papers supported by different Zionist organizations “provided a vernacular-language forum for nationalists to convince traditional Jews not only that the Jews constituted a nation—indeed that their nationalist ideology was a natural extension of traditional Judaism—but that they needed to become politically active to win the same rights as other nations” (p. 110). Together, these papers transformed “Jewish nationalism into a popular ideology,” especially among traditional, Orthodox Jews in
Galicia “who had come to Zionism as a means of entering the modern world without abandoning their deeply entrenched Jewish identities” (pp. 130, 138).
These organizations and newspapers also laid the groundwork for the increased popularity of Jewish nationalism and Zionism in the wake of the First Zionist
Congress, convened in Basel in 1897 by the Viennese playwright and journalist Theodor Herzl (pp. 168–169).
Although Herzl’s grand plans attracted much initial support, the situation of Galician Jewry within the matrix of Habsburg politics encouraged local Jewish leaders to focus their energies on domestic politics over Zionist visions of the Jews’ return to the Holy Land. The growing demand for “Jewish national autonomy” in
Habsburg Galicia marked the beginning of the divide between Jewish national politics and organizations in
Galicia and Zionist politics that looked eastward, toward Zion (p. 193). This turn to domestic politics increased during the Austrian parliamentary elections in 1891 and again in 1907. Suddenly, Jews in Galicia were organizing to obtain political representation in Vienna.
Much like the Slovaks, the Poles, the Hungarians, and the Czechs, the Jews made their demands in the imperial capital in the name of one of the empire’s different national groups, and not in the name of a religious community, people, or nation that longed to be transposed to a different space and place (pp. 219, 243).
There is much food for thought in Shanes’s valuable study, and it is deep in conversation with earlier studies of modern Jewish politics by Jonathan Frankel, Eli Lederhendler, and Ezra Mendelsohn, as well as more recent works by Kenneth Moss, Rachel Manekin, Dimitry
Shumsky, and the author of this review. Moreover,
Shanes’s book is representative of a relatively new turn in Jewish studies that emphasizes non-Zionist parties, leaders, and movements. Despite this challenge to traditional academic paradigms as well as the author’s mastery over much of the constructivist literature on nations and nationalisms, Shanes ultimately embraces the position advocated by Israel Bartal, Gideon Shimoni, Anthony Smith, and others regarding the historical roots of the Jewish nation (pp. 7, 9, 138, 143, 285).
Hence, he repeatedly emphasizes that Jewish nationalism and Zionism in Galicia accommodated traditional, religious Jews without demanding that they undergo a process of radical secularization (pp. 138, 169, 234). That said, it ultimately remains unclear why “the
Jews” are different from so many other nations and what, exactly, enabled and ensured this distinctive path to Jewish nationhood and modernity.
Another point of debate is the underlying tension between periphery and center that cuts through this and many other studies of the Habsburg Empire. Indeed, while the author does a wonderful job of bringing Jewish politics and culture in Habsburg Galicia to light (and to life), the lack of Polish-language sources inevitably orients the study toward the imperial center in
Vienna, and not, for example, toward the long and painful path of Polish-Jewish relations in Galicia and neighboring lands.
Additionally, one has to wonder whether the distinction between Zionist and diaspora nationalist activity and thought was clearly defined and understood in late
Habsburg Galicia, and whether these developments were, indeed, unique to Galician lands. Perhaps many activists, supporters, and bystanders were able to embrace both ideologies and movements simultaneously?
And what does all of this tell us about the nature and practice of diaspora nationalism as well as the differences (and similarities) between diaspora nationalism and a nationalism that is bound to a specific territory?
These questions of interpretation, however, only underscore the book’s many strengths, and readers will certainly be inspired by Shanes’s well-argued and engaging study of modern Jewish politics and nationalism in Galician lands. There is much to be learned here, and students and scholars of Jewish and Habsburg histories as well as those of nations and nationalisms will not be disappointed.
Tel Aviv University
FABIEN ARCHAMBAULT. Le controˆle du ballon: Les catholiques, les communistes et le football en Italie; De 1943 au tournant des anne´es 1980. (Bibliothe`que des e´coles Franc¸aises d’Athe`nes et de Rome, number 349.)
Rome: E´cole franc¸aise de Rome. 2012. Pp. xii, 655. €110.00.
This book is a detailed analysis of the intersection of
Italian politics and soccer in Cold War Italy. Fabien Archambault shows the process through which the dominant political forces of the Cold War, Catholics and
Communists, used soccer as a means to gain support not just from young party militants, but from a broad spectrum of the entire population. Developing soccer organizations provided leadership in the ideological 1006 Reviews of Books