DIASPORA DURING
THE BELLE ÉPOQUE:
THE NETHERLANDS AND
JEWISH MIGRANTS FROM
EASTERN EUROPE, 1880-1914
Research into the reception and attitude inDutch-Jewish periodicals
Alice van Zinnicq Bergmann 11930063
Religious Studies
Graduate School of Humanities University of Amsterdam
DIASPORA DURING THE BELLE ÉPOQUE: THE NETHERLANDS AND
JEWISH MIGRANTS FROM EASTERN EUROPE, 1880-1914 Research into the reception and attitude in Dutch-Jewish periodicals
Alice van Zinnicq Bergmann 11930063
Supervisor: Mr. Dr. F.S.L. Schouten First Examiner: Mr. Prof. Dr. J.W. van Henten
Second Examiner: Ms. Prof. Dr. I.E. Zwiep ‘Religious Studies Master’s Thesis’
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface ... 1
1 The Westward mass migration of East European Jews ... 6
1.1 Pogroms, anti-Jewish legislation, and a mass exodus ...6
1.1.1 Repression and restriction ... 6
1.1.2 The calamitous 1900s ... 8
1.1.3 Stateless Jews in Rumania ... 9
1.2 The reception by Western authorities and populations ...10
1.2.1 A broad spectrum of migrants ... 11
1.2.2 Implementation of control measures ... 11
1.3 The reception by native Jews ...12
1.3.1 Western versus Eastern Jewry ... 14
1.3.2 Jewish aid committees ... 15
1.3.3 Repudiating and expatriating ... 16
2 Jews in the Netherlands ... 18
2.1 From Jewish ‘nation’ to Jewish congregation ...18
2.1.1 The first steps to assimilation ... 19
2.1.2 Separation of Synagogue and State ... 20
2.1.3 The NIK ... 21
2.1.4 Dutch-Jewish population distribution ... 23
2.1.5 Jews in Amsterdam ... 24
2.2 Social and political compartmentalisation ...25
2.2.1 The SDAP and the ANDB ... 26
2.2.2 The NZB ... 27
2.2.3 From Dutch Jews to Jewish Dutchmen ... 28
2.3 East European Jewish migrants in Amsterdam ...29
2.3.1 Registered Jewish migrants ... 30
2.3.2 Jewish aid committees ... 33
2.3.3 Settlement of East European Jewish immigrants ... 35
2.3.4 The second migrant city of the Netherlands: Rotterdam ... 36
3 Dutch-Jewish periodicals ... 38
3.1 Weekblad voor Israëlieten / Nieuwsblad voor Israëlieten ...38
3.1.1 News coverage pertaining to East European Jewish migrants ... 41
3.1.2 Peak year 1882 ... 43
3.1.3 Destination: America? Palestine? Suriname? The Netherlands? ... 46
3.1.4 Hagnosath Orchim ... 48
3.1.5 Perspectives of the WI/NI and its readers ... 50
3.1.6 Distinctions between the editors-in-chief ... 53
3.1.7 Comparison with the NIW ... 54
3.2 De ,,Alliance”: Orgaan van de Nederlandsche Afdeeling der ,,Alliance Israélite Universelle” ..56
3.2.1 News coverage pertaining to East European Jewish migrants ... 57
3.2.2 Internationally focussed ... 58
3.2.3 Proposal for an umbrella committee for transmigrants ... 60
3.2.4 The perspective of the Alliance ... 61
4 Kinship, philanthropy, or detachment? ... 63
Appendix I ... 67
Appendix II ... 71
Abbreviations ... 72
Preface
From 1881 to 1914, approximately two million East European Jews migrated westward due to continual pogroms, anti-Semitic regulations, economic strangulation, and the subsequent deteriorated living condition.1 Refuge was sought in Central and Western Europe, although most migrants only passed through there to embark for the United States. Many governments implemented measures regarding migration control due to the influx of migrants who travelled through or wanted to settle in their country. To coordinate the mass migration, as well as providing aid, national and private organisations were established across the world. The arrival of these needy East European Jewish migrants also caused commotion within native Jewish communities. The – assumed – arduous relationship between the ‘ghettoised’, impoverished Jews from Eastern Europe and the emancipated and acculturating Western Jews is the subject of many studies. However, relatively little is known about the reception of East European Jewish migrants by the native Jewish population in the Netherlands between 1881 and 1914. Although far fewer foreigners entered the Netherlands, than, for instance, Germany, England, or France, this still could have had an impact on the Dutch-Jewish communities.
One of the first elaborated studies is that of Paul Visser, Broeders en vreemdelingen: Een studie van de opvang van Oost-Europese joodse migranten in Nederland in de jaren 1881-1933 tegen de achtergrond van het Nederlands-joodse acculturatieproces (1988). His PhD thesis is about the establishment and activities of the aid committees in the Netherlands during 1881 and 1933.
A year later, Joël J. Cahen (b. 1945) points to the fact that “the topic of ‘Ost-Jidden-, i.e. Eastern European Jews, has, however, not been studied systematically in the framework of Dutch-Jewish History: it is one of the remaining tasks for historians.” 2 Cahen introduces hereby the essay “Migration versus ‘Species Hollandia Judaica’” of Dan Michman (b. 1947) in a special edition of Studia Rosenthaliana. Michman focuses on the relations that developed between Dutch Jews and East European Jewish migrants as well as with other West European
1 In the period before the end of the nineteenth century, the reliability of demographic sources is not as reliable as those from more recent times. For instance, in the United States, the category “Hebrews” was included in official migration data only since 1899. Furthermore, it is possible that not all Jewish migrants were listed as such. The statistics concerning the total volume of East European Jewish emigrants, international and intercontinental, in this study are based on conjectures of different scholars.
2 The publication followed “the Fifth International Symposium on the History of the Jews in the Netherlands” (Joël J. Cahen, “Introduction,” Studia Rosenthaliana 23 [special issue] (1989): 5).
Jews through international Jewish aid organisations concerning transmigrants. He covers the period from 1880 until the Second World War, concluding with its aftermath.
Recently, the gap detected by Cahen has been addressed by Peter Tammes’ edited volume Oostjoodse Passanten en Blijvers: Aankomst, opvang, trasmigratie en vestiging van joden uit Rusland in Amsterdam en Rotterdam, 1882-1914 (2013). This volume contains chapters of three authors: Tammes (b. 1972), Karin Hofmeester (b. 1964), and Justus van der Kamp (b. 1954). Examining articles from the Nieuw Israëlietisch Weekblad (‘New Israelite Weekly’; NIW, 1865 – present-day), Tammes focusses on how East European transmigrants were perceived and received by ‘the’ Jewish community in the Netherlands. He analyses the perspective of the NIW on the deteriorating situation of the Jews in Eastern Europe, which stimulated the establishment of local aid organisations in Amsterdam and Rotterdam. NIW represented the view of the – on what retrospectively can be seen as the – ‘liberal’ Jews. While the periodical had national distribution, the emphasis was on Amsterdam.By solely studying the NIW, Tammes only sheds light on the ‘liberal’ Jewish perception and representation of the East European Jewish migrants in the Netherlands. Thereby, a part of the Dutch-Jewish population is not considered in this perspective – for instance, orthodox Jews and Zionists.
Hofmeester presents information on the East European Jewish immigrants in Amsterdam. This is based on her demographic research of the ‘Vreemdelingenregister 1849-1922’ (‘Foreigners Registers’) of the Amsterdam City Archive (SAA).3 She outlines the sizes
and the background of the Jewish immigrant groups; their age, gender, and occupation; type of migration; and the establishment and group formation in Amsterdam. A detailed analysis, like that of Tammes on the reception of and the aid regarding the East European Jewish transmigrants by the native Jewish population in Amsterdam, is not applied to the immigrants by Hofmeester. Tammes conducted similar quantitative research on the Vreemdelingenregisters of the City Archive Rotterdam for the situation in Rotterdam. Van der Kamp complements the offered factual data by recounting the life of five successful and well-known Russian-Jewish immigrant families based on biographical sketches. The immigrants’ perspective is established,
3 As a result of the Dutch Vreemdelingenwet (‘Foreigners Law’) of 1849 – only people with a valid passport and with sufficient resources were accepted – personal data was registered as well as information related to admission and issue of the travel- or residence card by the police. The website of the SAA offers the possibility to examine the digitalised Vreemdelingenregisters (Louk Pöckling and Marlou Schrover, “Registers van verstrekte en geweigerde reis- en verblijfpassen (1849-1923),” in Broncommentaren 5: Bronnen betreffende de registratie van vreemdelingen in Nederland in de negentiende en twintigste eeuw, edited by Marlou Schrover (Den Haag: Instituut voor Nederlandse Geschiedenis, 2002), 37-47).
while no attention is paid to how the native Jews perceived the East European immigrants in the Netherlands.
My Master thesis explores a more integral image of the different Jewish communities in the Netherlands, and specifically in Amsterdam. My focus is not only on the ‘liberal’ Jews but also the ‘orthodox’ Jews. It would be also interesting to see how Zionists reacted to the arrival of East European Jews. However, due to the limited schedule, their perspective is not studied. It certainly is an interesting subject for a follow-up study. While Tammes only focusses on the transmigrants in Amsterdam, I will pay attention to those who settled in Amsterdam and to the interest of Dutch Jews in these immigrants. While Hofmeester provides a demographic overview, she does not pay attention to this perception. In doing so, I aim to complement the perspective by Tammes and Hofmeester. In the present study, East European Jews includes subjects of the Russian Empire and Rumania.
How did the native Jewish population of the Netherlands, and Amsterdam specifically, face the East European Jewish migration between 1881 and 1914, and what was their image of
these migrants?
For my thesis, I explored two types of sources. First, I scrutinised the abovementioned Vreemdelingenregisters. Most of the registers are digitalised. By searching on East European city names, all the registered – Jews and Gentiles – people coming from these places appear. Because religious persuasions are included, the Jewish migrants can be located. Not all foreigners were documented at the municipality, being exempt or withheld from registration. The inventories, nonetheless, give insight into the migration pattern, the socio-economic structure, and perhaps even in the motives of the East European Jews who settled – whether temporary – in Amsterdam.
Secondly, I analysed Dutch-Jewish periodicals in the broad context of the East European Jewish mass migration. In the period between 1880 and 1918, more than forty Jewish periodicals were published in the Netherlands, of which twenty-eight in Amsterdam alone. To cover all these journals would go beyond the scope of this thesis. Many of the magazines did not even pay attention to the East European Jews, their atrocious situation and the mass migration. In selecting the newspapers, the period in which it was published naturally played
an important role. One had to cover the period of the outbreak of the first pogroms and subsequent influx of migrants from Eastern Europe, from 1880 to 1887, and another the second stream, which occurred between 1903 and 1907. Did the image of East European Jews change over time? Was there from the onset attention for the situation of these Jews, and has this attention been retained? To provide a more comprehensive view about the perception of East European Jews by various Jewish communities in the Netherlands, and in Amsterdam specifically, as well as to complement Tammes’ research, I selected the following two periodicals:
Nieuwsblad voor Israëlieten (‘Newspaper for Israelites’; NI, 1884-1894), previously Weekblad voor Israëlieten (‘Weekly for Israelites’; WI, 1855-1884), and De ,,Alliance”: Orgaan van de Nederlandsche Afdeeling der ,,Alliance Israélite Universelle” (‘The ,,Alliance”: Publication of the Dutch Department of the ,,Alliance Israélite Universelle”; Alliance, 1906-1920).
The WI/NI covered the first wave of the East European Jewish mass migration and its aftermath. The news coverage can demonstrate to what extent the support for the East European Jews persisted over time. The Alliance was established during the end of the second stream. This can be an indication that although the unrest in Eastern Europe had quietened down, it was still necessary and important to pay attention to the East European Jewish state of affairs – while the intensity of the East European Jewish coverage and its prominence in the NIW decreased over time.4 Furthermore, since the NIW was founded in opposition to the WI/NI
,
the periodicals lend itself for an intriguing comparison.To establish the context in which the reportage concerning East European Jews was published, I researched the background of the journals and its editors. While studying the periodicals, I searched for articles concerning East European Jews. My focus was on the deteriorated situation of the Jews in Eastern Europe; the migration of East European Jews abroad and within the Netherlands; the reception of these Jewish migrants; and the involvement of Dutch Jewish communities in – local, national, or international – relief committees and organisations. Furthermore, I looked at the manner and amount of attention that was paid to these different subjects.
4 Peter Tammes, “Aankomst en opvang van Oostjoden in Amsterdam en Rotterdam,” in Oostjoodse Passanten en Blijvers: Aankomst, opvang, transmigratie en vestiging van joden uit Rusland in Amsterdam en Rotterdam, 1882-1914, edited by ibid. (Amsterdam: Menasseh ben Israel Instituut, 2013), 24.
All the volumes of the Alliance are in the holding of the University of Amsterdam, offering a complete image of the perception and representation of the East European Jewish migrants by the Dutch Department of the Alliance Israélite Universelle (AIU). Unfortunately, not all the volumes of WI/NI are held by the University of Amsterdam or any other library in the Netherlands. Within the period 1881 and 1918, volumes 25 (1879/80) and 26 (1880/81) of the WI are missing, and the holding of the NI stops at volume 3 (June 1887). The periodical still provides an image, only a fragmented one.
The Westward mass migration of East European Jews discusses the circumstances under which the westward mass migration of East European Jews emerged as well as the alteration in the socio-political situation of the Jewish population in Western versus Eastern Europe, and its influence on the stance of the West European Jews.
The position of the Dutch-Jewish population just before and since their legal emancipation in September 1796 is studied in Jews in the Netherlands. The demographic situation, the migration pattern and the socio-economic structure of the East European Jewish migrants will further be presented to get a better understanding of the impact of their mass migration in the Netherlands between 1881 and 1914.
In Dutch-Jewish periodicals, I discuss my analysis of the periodicals. Each paragraph will be assigned to one of the two periodicals, in which publications concerning East European Jews – such as physical and financial assistance by the Dutch Jews as well as the frequency and place of such items – are reviewed.
Were the Dutch Jews products of an outlined acculturation process and could they not rid themselves of the almost archetypal image of East European Jews as objects of Western philanthropy and civilisation work? Came the extended aid towards the East European Jewish migrants purely from a philanthropic-paternalistic attitude of the indigenous Jewish aid workers? Or was there a change visible in the representation and reception, illustrated in the periodicals, of the East European Jewish migrants by the Dutch Jewish population? In how far perceived the Dutch-Jewish population the East European Jewish migrants as “backward, superstitious, dirty – and certainly inferior in culture and breeding” strangers, as, according to Jack Wertheimer (b. 1948), German Jews regarded them?5 These questions I aim to answer in
my thesis.
5 Jack Wertheimer, Unwelcome Strangers: East European Jews in Imperial Germany (New York [etc.]: Oxford University Press, 1987), 3.
1 The Westward mass migration of East European Jews
1.1 Pogroms, anti-Jewish legislation, and a mass exodus
On March 31, 1881, the tsar of the Russian Empire, Alexander II (1818-1881) was assassinated in Saint Petersburg.6 Eventuating from this assassination was the end of the – somewhat –
improved living circumstances of the Jews in the Russian Empire. During his reign, Alexander II had revoked several of the anti-Jewish decrees of his father, Tsar Nicholas I (1796-1855). Consequently, new Jewish communities developed in large cities, such as Saint Petersburg and Moscow, and increasing involvement of Jews in the cultural and intellectual life in the Russian Empire ensued. In the course of Alexander II’s reign, the Russian-Jewish population almost dared to hope for a better future. However, his son and successor, Tsar Alexander III (1845-1894) – a profoundly conservative man – condemned the liberal attitude of his father. He reversed several of his predecessor’s reforms, including the abolishment of the restrictions regarding Jews, and exacerbated the Jewish condition.
1.1.1 Repression and restriction
Social and economic instability – the ramifications of Alexander II’s reform attempts – marked the inauguration of the regime of the new Tsar. The Gentile population commonly inculpated the Jews for these negative aspects, since they arose from the changes which were most beneficial for Jews.7 Combined with the already strong anti-Semitic feelings harboured by the Russian population, previous violent conflicts between Gentile and Jew, and the resentment emanating from Jewish commercial competition, this ultimately culminated on April 15, 1881. A vicious pogrom erupted in Elizabethgrad in the Kherson Governorate.8 Pogroms occurred on a massive scale and spread throughout the southwestern regions of the Russian Empire – within and outside of the Pale of Settlement.9 Within one year, tens of thousands of Jews became
6 Édvard Radzinsky, “Death of the Tsar,” in Alexander II: The Last Great Tsar, translated by Antonina W. Bouis (New York [etc.]: Free Press, 2005), 413-417.
7 Sam Johnson, “Uses and Abuses: ‘Pogroms’ in the Anglo-American Imagination, 1881-1919,” in Jews in the East European Borderlands: Essays in Honor of John D. Klier, edited by Eugene M. Avrutin and Harriet Muray (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2012), 152.
8 Howard Sachar, A History of the Jews in the Modern World (New York: Vintage Books, 2006), 245-247.
9 After the second and third partition of Poland, respectively in 1793 and 1795, a substantial increase of the – Polish – Jewish population in Russia engendered the expulsions of Jews from the rural areas and led to the establishment of the Pale of Settlement. In 1881, more than half of the total Jewish population of the Russian Empire – approximately 2,920,000 of the estimated 4,100,000 – lived in the Pale of Settlement (John D. Klier, “Russian Jewry on the Eve of the Pogroms,” in Pogroms: Anti-Jewish Violence in Modern Russian History, edited by John D. Klier and Shlomo Lambroza (Cambridge: University Press, 1992), 5).
homeless and impoverished.10 Although suspicions of government involvement were raised, recent research, especially by John D. Klier (1944-2007), has shown that “Russian officials neither desired, encouraged, nor tolerated pogroms.”11 Nonetheless, pogromists utilised the
speculation of governmental involvement in their advantage, exploiting it to justify their actions.12 The belief that the lives and property of the Jews did not enjoy, or even deserve, any legal protection further upheld the pogroms. It was clear to the Jewish population that Russia would not be a haven for them.13
A regime of repression and restriction, of segregation rather than assimilation, was again implemented in the Russian Empire. Supposedly to avert conflicts between the Jews and Gentiles. The constraints took further shape in the ‘May Laws,’ instituted in May 1882, enunciating that: Jews no longer were allowed to settle outside the borders of the Pale of Settlement and rural areas within the Pale were declared forbidden territory; it became prohibited for Jews to own or lease property; on Sundays, or any Christian holiday, Jewish businesses had to be closed; and at academia strict quotas were implemented on the admission of Jewish pupils and students, as well as quotas on medical and legal professions.14 The ‘May
Laws’ – which were supposed to be temporary regulations concerning the Jews, but were ultimately in force until the downfall of the Russian Empire in 1917 – were just the beginning of long series of anti-Jewish measures to socially degrade and economically destroy its Jewish population. The pogroms and the ‘May Laws’ catalysed an emigration of more than half a million Russian Jews. Destitute Jews predominated among the émigrés, whereas middle-class Jews mainly migrated nationally.15
10 John P. Williams, “Exodus from Europe: Jewish Diaspora Immigration from Central and Eastern Europe to the United States (1820-1914),” Perspectives on Global Development and Technology 16, no. 1-3 (April 2017): 88. 11 John D. Klier, Russians, Jews, and the Pogroms of 1881-1882 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 384.
For significant studies concerning the Russian pogroms between 1881 and 1910, see: on the speculations and considerations of Russian bureaucrats concerning the Jewish question: Hans Rogger, Jewish Policies and Right-Wing Politics in Imperial Russia (Berkeley [etc.]: University of California Press, 1986); on the conjectured role of the Russian press: John D. Klier, “The Russian Press and anti-Jewish Pogroms of 1881,” Canadian-American Slavic Studies/Revue Canadienne-Américaine d’Études Slaves 17, no. 2 (July 1, 1983): 199-221; on the geographical and economic impact: Michael Aronson, Troubled Waters: The Origins of the 1881 Anti-Jewish Pogroms in Russia (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1990); Heinz-Dietrich Löwe, “Pogroms in Russia: Explanations, Comparisons, Suggestions,” Jewish Social Studies 11, no. 1 (2004): 16-24.
12 Klier, “The Russian Press,” 200-201.
13 Renate G. Fuks-Mansfeld, “Verandering en continuïteit in het Oosteuropese jodendom, 1772-1897,” in Het onvoltooide verleden: Twee eeuwen Oost-Europa en het joodse vraagstuk, edited by André W.M. Gerrits and Harm Ramkema (Utrecht: Werkgroep Oost-Europa Projekten, 1993), 29.
14 Charles Lowe, “The Tsar Persecutor,” in Alexander III of Russia (New York: Macmillan and Co., 1895), 212-213. 15 Williams, “Exodus from Europe,” 89.
1.1.2 The calamitous 1900s
At the turn of the century, modernisation, industrialisation, and urbanisation reached Russia, where its people and government struggled with these changes. Vicissitudes marked the early years: the countryside was afflicted with violent unrest and chaos, incited by poor yields, while in the urban areas the increasing unemployment resulted in labour unrest with strikes and riots. The defeat of the Russo-Japanese War (February 1904 – September 1905) aggravated the political and public situation even more, along with ‘Bloody Sunday’ on January 22, 1905, and the ensuing – unsuccessful – Russian Revolution (January 1905 – June 1907).16 The Russian Empire found itself in an internal conflict: resolute absolutism which was confronted with inescapable change; impoverishment of its population ensuing from a weakening economy; and subsequent radical political extremism. A second wave of anti-Jewish swept through the Empire between April 1903 and September 1906.17 The most ferocious pogrom occurred in Odessa,
November 1905, eventuating in the death of at least eight hundred Jews.18 Table 1.1 shows the
number of pogroms and its casualties in the different Russian governorates between 1905 and 1906 – the most brutal year of this second anti-Jewish rampage. In one year, 657 pogroms occurred – only forty-two less than in the whole period between 1903 and 1906 – and approximately 3,593 Jews lost their lives. The total during this whole period amounted to around 3,800 fatalities.19
The thousands of deaths, the destruction of Jewish property by arson, vandalism, and looting, the damage that cumulated in millions of roubles – all gave new impetus to the emigration of Russian Jews. The upsurge was, further, accelerated by the economic crisis in the industrial areas, the dropping prices due to the stiff competition between various transatlantic shipping companies, and the increasing demand for labour in America.20 In a period of five
16 ‘Bloody Sunday’ was the massacre of unarmed demonstrators who were marching towards the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg to present their Workers’ Petition to Tsar Nicholas II (1868-1918). The Workers’ Petition of January 22 (January 9, O.S.) called, among other things, for an improvement of the working conditions and the authorization to form trade unions, as well as the termination of the Russo-Japanese War (Reginald E. Zelnik, “Russian Workers and Revolution,” in The Cambridge History of Russia Volume II: Imperial Russia, 1789-1917, edited by D. Lieven (Cambridge [etc.]: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 629-630).
17 Shlomo Lambroza, “The Pogroms of 1903-1906,” in Pogroms, ed. by Klier and Lambroza, 195.
18 The pogrom took place between October 31 and November 2 (October 18 and 22 O.S.) (Robert Weinberg, “The Pogrom of 1905 in Odessa: A Case Study,” in Pogroms, ed. by Klier and Lambroza, 248).
19 Lambroza, “Pogroms of 1903-1906,” in Pogroms, ed. by Klier and Lambroza, 215-231.
20 Mark Wischnitzer, To Dwell in Safety: The Story of Jewish Migration since 1800 (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society of America, 1948), 98.
years, from 1903 to 1907, more than 600,000 Russian Jews sought a safer, and economically favourable, home abroad.21
Table 1.1. The number of pogroms and Jews killed during pogroms in the Pale of Settlement, 1905-1906. Source: Lambroza, “Pogroms of 1903-1906,” in Pogroms, ed. by Klier and Lambroza, 228.23
1.1.3 Stateless Jews in Rumania
In Rumania, a similar deterioration of the position of its Jewish population occurred towards the end of the nineteenth century.24 The Jewish population, no matter how long they had resided
21 Paul Visser, Broeders en vreemdelingen: Een studie van de opvang van Oost-Europese joodse migranten in Nederland in de jaren 1881-1933 tegen de achtergrond van het Nederlands-joodse acculturatieproces (PhD diss., University of Amsterdam, 1988), 135.
22 At the end of the eighteenth century, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (1569-1795) was divided by three partitions – 1772, 1793, and 1795 – by Russia, Austria, and Prussia. The Russian Empire annexed the majority of Poland, which was demoted to Russian governorate since 1863. Congress Poland, or Russian Poland, comprised: Warsaw, Lublin, Płock, Kalisz, Piotrków, Kielce, Radom, Siedlce, Suwałki, Łomża, and Augustów.
23 The data on the number of pogroms varies in different source. Especially concerning the Odessa pogrom in 1905. Even Shlomo Lambroza (b. 1954) works with different numbers in his essay: in the text, he mentions a total of eight hundred Jewish fatalities (pages 231, 233), though, in the table (page 228), this number is reduced to three hundred. In a footnote, Lambroza explains that contemporary police reports “underestimated the extent of the damage.” In the table of this thesis, the estimated eight hundred is employed (Lambroza, “Pogroms of 1903-1906,” in Pogroms, ed. by Klier and Lambroza, 228, 231, 233, 246 footnote 105).
24 While Rumania only gained independence in 1877 and was officially recognized by the great powers at the Congress of Berlin in 1878, abhorrence towards Jews was already expressed since mid-sixteenth century in Moldavia – one of the principalities of modern Rumania – primarily fostered by commercial competition. In 1856, after the implementation of the Treaty of Paris, granting Moldavia and Wallachia semi-sovereignty – they remained vassal states of the Ottoman Empire – a new legislation ordered that “all the inhabitants, irrespective of religion, should enjoy religious and civil liberties (the right to own property and to trade) and might occupy political posts. Only those who had foreign citizenships were excluded from political rights.” However, the Rumanian authorities ruled that it was only applicable for its Christian population, granting no citizenship to the Rumanian Jews (Theodor Lavi et al., “Romania,” in Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 14, 2nd ed., edited by Fred Skolnik and Michael Berenbaum (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA in Association with the Keter Publishing House, 2007), 376-378).
Governorate No. of pogroms Jewish deaths Governorate No. of Pogroms Jewish Death
Chernigov 251_____ 76____- Vitebsk 10_____ 80____ Kherson 82_____ 817__-__ Grodno 10_____ 356____ Bessarabia 71_____ 942__-__ Volhynian 9_____ 49____ Poltava 52_____ 53__-__ Taurida 8_____ 131____ Yekaterinoslav 41_____ 285__-__ Vilna 5_____ 0____ Kiev 41_____ 167__-__ Kovno 5_____ 2)))))_ Podolia 37_____ 35__-__ Minsk 5_____ 100____ Mogilev 15_____ 48__-__
in Rumania, were legally not acknowledged as Rumanian citizens and considered foreigners.25 Regardless of the numerous attempts of other, mainly Western, European countries, the unyielding Rumanian government rebuffed to grant its Jewish population the same civil rights, denying them emancipation.26 Due to heightened anti-Jewish legislation and regular extensive expulsions combined with famine ravaging the country during 1899, more than fifty thousand Rumanian Jews saw in emigration the only possibility of escaping oppression and poverty in the period 1900 to 1907.27
1.2 The reception by Western authorities and populations
The westward migration of East European Jews started at the western frontier of the Russian Empire. Brody, a city in Galicia along the Russian border, was for most the first stop and evolved into a centre for emigrants. Within a year, the city already welcomed more than nine thousand Russian-Jewish refugees for a temporary stay.28 The advancements in transportation
– a good railroad network and steamship lines to the desired destinations – accommodated the waves of migrants. The majority of the Jewish emigrants travelled through the German Empire to reach other German or West European seaports. In Germany, the most crucial transit port centres were in Hamburg and Berlin. Of these cities, the latter acquired a central position in this transatlantic and -national migration network, as Berlin was the closest urban centre with a haven to the western frontier of the Russian Empire. For East European Jewish emigrants travelling from Odessa was Paris a vital transfer point, particularly in 1892. The work of the French shipping companies expanded following the shutdown of Hamburg’s haven, induced by a cholera epidemic and the temporary restrictions on the acceptance of immigrants into America, attributable to the fear of typhoid.29 Other significant transit cities included London, Antwerp, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and New York.
25Dana Mihăilescu, “Images of Romania and America in Early Twentieth-Century Romanian-Jewish Immigrant Life Stories in the United States,” East European Jewish Affairs 42, no. 1 (April 1, 2012): 28.
26 Ezra Mendelsohn, “Romania,” in The Jews of East Central Europe between the World Wars (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983), 174.
27 Zosa Szajkowski, “Jewish Emigration Policy in the Period of the Rumanian Exodus 1899-1903,” Jewish Social Studies 13, no. 1 (January 1, 1951): 70.
28 Cecil Bloom, “The Politics of Immigration, 1881-1905,” Jewish Historical Studies 33 (1992-1994): 188.
29 Nancy L. Green, “Immigrant Jews in Paris, London, and New York: A Comparative Approach,” Judaism 49, no. 3 (June 22, 2000): 284.
1.2.1 A broad spectrum of migrants
Between 1881 and 1918, most East European Jewish migrants moved to the United States, followed by England, Argentina and Canada. During the first peak of the mass migration, mainly peddlers and tailors embarked for the United States.30 During the next two decades, this formation shifted. Students and intelligentsia, as well as a variety of skilled labourers, were among the emigrating East European Jews. That these migrants represented a uniform community was, thus, an incorrect assumption. Diverse groups arrived in the transit- and host countries, sometimes even being as far removed from each other as the indigenous Jews anticipated to be from the East European Jews as a whole.31
1.2.2 Implementation of control measures
The arrival of a continuous flow of East European Jewish migrants confronted Western governments with some serious hurdles. The absence of general management of the emigration from Eastern Europe made it quite challenging to take control of the situation. There neither was any indication of abatement on the horizon. As Wertheimer fittingly states, “No sovereign state can permit the unregulated movement of tens and even hundreds of thousands of foreigners across its national frontiers; and no responsible government can ignore the presence of migrants who seek to do business, acquire an education, or find permanent haven within its territory.”32
The migrants could not be disregarded, but that did not mean that the host countries genuinely welcomed them. Often influenced by the stereotypical image of the destitute, dirty, East European beggar Jew, the authorities involved increasingly viewed themselves as “victims of an alien invasion.”33 More efficient laws concerning migrants were enacted, to ‘protect’ local
communities from these unwanted foreigners.34
Germany, for instance, was a popular destination for emigrants, even reachable by foot from Russia. Consequently, the German government took control measures such as increased border control.35 The primary purpose of these regulations was to avert a possible settlementof these foreign Jews. The measures taken at the borders were of crucial, and dual, importance.
30 Williams, “Exodus from Europe,” 89.
31 Steven E. Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers: The East European Jew in German and German Jewish Consciousness, 1800-1923 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1982), 45-46.
32 Wertheimer, Unwelcome Strangers, 23.
33 Aristide R. Zolberg, “Global Movements, Global Walls: Responses to Migration, 1885-1925,” in Global History and Migrations, edited by Wang Gungwu (New York: Routledge, 2018), 293.
34 Wertheimer, Unwelcome Strangers, 12.
35 Tobias Brinkmann, “From Hinterberlin to Berlin: Jewish Migrants from Eastern Europe in Berlin Before and After 1918,” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 7, no. 3 (November 3, 2008): 347.
On the one hand, the primary task of the guards at the borders was to hinder East European Jewish migrants from settling in the German Empire. Only, on the other hand, to the advantage of German shipping companies who cognised the financial opportunities, they also had to grant migrants to enter the country. A system was constructed which made sure that the incoming East European Jewish migrants would be transported as quickly as possible from the control posts to the port cities, and then on their way to, predominantly, the United States.36 As a result of this efficient shipping system, around two million Jewish emigrants from Eastern Europe passed through Germany between 1870 and 1914.37 Every state government, even local authorities, were relatively free in their decisions concerning the regulation of East European Jewish migrants. The Prussian authority was particularly rigorous in its approach to the Jewish migrants. By sharing a direct border with Russia, and thereby being the first to deal with the East European Jews, they employed severe policies to restrict the unwanted Jewish migrants.38
Not only in Germany did the arrival of Jewish foreigners provoke antagonistic responses. The annual arrival of almost one hundred thousand East European Jewish migrants engenderedagitation in the United States between 1900 and 1914.39 Restrictions were placed
on the professional market, Jews were excluded from labour unions, and quotas were applied to student admissions at academia.40 In England, demonstrations against unrestrained immigration were nothing out of the ordinary. The continuous migrant stream and the subsequent protests culminated in the Aliens Act of 1905 – allegedly constituted to avert criminals and beggars who were probably a communal liability.41 However, the underlying concept was to ostracise the Jewish immigrants, taking control over and limiting the influx of unwanted aliens. The establishment of systems and the enactment of legislation regulating migration streams of East European Jews was inevitable.
1.3 The reception by native Jews
In the period before the emancipation, the mitzvoth of tzedakah (‘justice’, ‘righteousness’) and hachnasat orchim (the duty of hospitality) played a vital role in the reception and care for
36 Wertheimer, Unwelcome Strangers, 50-51. 37 Ibid., 51.
38 For an extensive analysis on the role of the Prussian authority regarding the governmental measures concerning the treatment of the East European Jewish migrants during 1881 till 1886, see ibid., 42-49; and on the legislation enforced in the whole of Germany, see ibid., 42-74.
39 Wischnitzer, To Dwell in Safety, 120. 40 Williams, “Exodus from Europe,” 97-99.
incoming Jewish migrants. Tzedakah can be understood as the religious obligation to provide – financial – aid to those in need.42 In adherence of these mitzvoth, local Jewish communities or individuals provided food, shelter, or other necessities for foreign Jews. In the second half of the eighteenth century, the ideas of the enlightenment, accompanied by a pursuit of legal and social emancipation, gradually changed this.43 The Jewish emancipation in the West often entailed that they consciously, or unconsciously detached themselves from all kinds of traditional Jewish elements and characteristics. This stemmed, in part, from the attitude of governments. Authorities, expressing ‘enlightened’ ideas and modern expectations about emancipation and integration, wanted Judaism only to be a confession. For many, this resulted in a reduction of the role of Judaism to a purely religious sphere of life. Former feelings of Jewish solidarity were repressed and substituted by nationalist sentiments regarding their country of residence.44 In the period before the emancipation, Jewish communities throughout
Europe were in a more or less similar socio-political situation and connected by a shared system of norms and values.45 The aim of the emancipation, however, was a progressive process of
acculturation among the West European Jews: they tried to conform as much as possible to the ethical and aesthetic standards, and the social conduct applicable in the Gentile society.46 According to Steven E. Aschheim (b. 1942), emancipation inevitably brought about not only an alteration of the perception of the Jewish identity but also of the traditional notions of Jewish solidarity. Aschheim argues that the – political – equality of the Jews in Western Europe necessitated the emergence of “a new kind of Jew whose identity was so closely interwoven with the modes of his particular society that he would be recognisable only within that specific society,” resulting in the birth of, for example, the Dutch Jew.47 Aschheim continues, describing
the situation of European Judaism at the end of the eighteenth century as “on the one hand, emancipation and Jewish Enlightenment in the West; on the other the continuation of political
42 Elise M.J. van Schip, “Montefiore Vereeniging tot ondersteuning van behoeftige passanten: Een onderzoek naar het functioneren in de periode 1883-1914,” Rotterdams jaarboekje 4, no. 10 (1996): 399.
43 Stefi Jersch-Wenzel, “Ashkenazim in Europe since the Early Modern Period,” in The Encyclopedia of Migration and Minorities in Europe: From the Seventeenth Century to the Present, edited by Klaus J. Bade et al. (Cambridge [etc.]: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 242.
44 Jonathan Frankel, “Assimilation and the Jews in Nineteenth-Century Europe: Towards a New Historiography?” in Assimilation and Community: The Jews in Nineteenth-Century Europe, edited by Jonathan Frankel and Steven J. Zipperstein (Cambridge [etc.]: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 12-14.
45 Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers, 3.
46 Dan Michman, “Migration versus ‘Species Hollandia Judaica’: The Role of Migration in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries in Preserving Ties Between Dutch and World Jewry,” Studia Rosenthaliana 23 [special issue] (1989): 54.
disenfranchisement and traditional Jewish culture in Eastern Europe.”48 However, this
opposition is a representation of the Western view. Similar phenomena took place in Eastern Europe, however, on a smaller scale and not as extreme. Although industrialisation did not occur in Russia until around 1880, they experienced economic growth since 1875. Polarisation and urbanisation also took place among Russian Jews. Something that was not illuminated from the Western point of view. Jewish children were even granted access to public schools. Despite that their isolation from the Gentile population slightly diminished, they still gathered strongly in cities.
1.3.1 Western versus Eastern Jewry
The emancipation- and acculturation process had profound ramifications for the relationship between West- and East European Jews. A strong urge to conform to the Western and Central European cultural standards of the Jews led to the fact that most of them felt at odds or uncomfortable with East European Jewish customs as it reminded them of a part that they wished to take distance from.49 In some cases, this cumulated even in feelings of antipathy, harboured by Western Jews against their East European brethren, who became the embodiment of everything that these ‘cultivated’ West European Jews no longer were or wanted to be.50
Especially in Germany, animus towards East European Jews was palpable: with the full realisation of Jewish emancipation only being since 1871, a feeling of still having to prove oneself to the non-Jewish population predominated among the German Jews.51
The fate of the East European Jews, nonetheless, remained a concern for their brethren in the Western countries – although having its limits. Their dependency on the tolerance and protection extended by the governmental and local functionaries placed pressure on their relationship with the indigenous Jews. The concern of a recrudescence of anti-Semitism attributable to the presence of East European Jewish migrants was a dominant factor in the shaping of the relationship between the native and foreign Jews.52 A sense of solidarity prevailed, especially when it concerned foreign Jews abroad. When it involved immigrants in the Jews’ own country, this was, to a lesser extent the case:
48 Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers, 4.
49 Wertheimer, Unwelcome Strangers, 147-148. 50 Aschheim, Brothers and Strangers, 59. 51 Ibid., 3.
“Our fair fame is bound up with theirs; the outside world is not capable of making minute discrimination between Jew and Jew, and forms its opinion of Jews in general as much, if not more, from them than from the Anglicised portion of the Community. … By improving their dwellings, attracting them to our synagogues, breaking down their isolation in all directions and educating their children in an English fashion, we can do much to change our foreign poor into brethren, who shall not only be Jews but English Jews.”53
1.3.2 Jewish aid committees
In the absence of institutionalised help of the government, native Jewish communities took up this task. These relief committees were primarily focussed on the translocation of the migrants to another country, disinclined to have an influx of needy Jews establishing themselves. As Zosa Szajkowksi (1911-1978) remarks, “the principle of every European committee was to facilitate the migration of refugees, but not to their own country.”54 Their approach concerning
the arrival of foreign Jews could vary greatly, and the reception depended on the circumstances of the native Jewish community in the host country itself.55 Many relief groups offered aid at, or close to, frontiers posts and railway stations. These places, virtually the starting point of the East European Jews’ migration, and the way the migrants were received, presented a pivotal moment for the continuations of their voyage. Native Jews provided guidance, clothes, water and kosher food. They helped to mediate between the migrants and the governmental officials on-site, made travel arrangements as well as providing a medical examination. The magnitude of the westward migration of the East European Jews necessitated an enhanced concerted – national and international – coordination. The Alliance Israélite Universelle (AIU) was one of the first to come into action following the pogroms in 1881. An office of the AIU was installed in Brody, in order to coordinate the international, but mostly intercontinental, migration. The Hebrew Emigrant Aid Society (HEAS) was established in New York in the same year, “for the reception, aid, support and distribution of Jewish refugees arriving in the United States.”56 Later on, this organisation consisted of predominantly Russian-Jewish immigrants, whom, alongside a reorganisation, renamed the organisation the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS).
In April 1882, the German Central Committee for the Russian-Jewish Refugees (GCC) convened a conference for a sustained approach regarding the migration influx and to avert the
53 Jewish Chronicle, August 12, 1881, quoted in William J. Fishman, East and Jewish Radicals, 1875-1914 (London: Duckworth [for the] Acton Society Trust, 1975), 67-68.
54 Zosa Szajkowksi, “The European Attitude to East European Jewish Immigration (1881-1893),” Publications of the American Jewish Historical Society 41, no. 2 (December 1, 1951): 137.
55 For a comparative analysis of the Jewish migration ‘experience’ in different cities – in this case, Paris, London, and New York – between 1880 and 1924, see Green, “Immigrant Jews,” 280-291.
situation becoming more disorderly. The presence of numerous Jewish representatives from both sides of the Atlantic, including London, Paris, New York, and Amsterdam, suggested a constructive outcome. The GCC proposed a rather ambitious strategy to join forces, with every aid organisation its own task in an international migration regulation.57 Despite the proposal being too ambitious, it triggered the establishment of multiple ad hoc committees internationally. When the influx diminished, these local associations were abolished. Permanent aid organisations, such as HIAS and AIU, were left with the question of how to handle and manage possible occurrences of other migration streams in the future. Meetings were held between such organisations, to be prepared and to manage it more smoothly. In the course of the decades, the collaboration of Jewish relief organisation from different countries somewhat improved. Multiple conferences were being held, establishing an international and -continental aid network. The Hilfsverein der deutschen Juden (‘Relief Organisation of German Jews’) – founded in 1901 mainly to aid East European Jewish refugees – became the central office, intermediating between relief organisations, governments, transport corporations and Jewish migrants – within Germany itself, but also with countries in Europe and overseas.58
1.3.3 Repudiating and expatriating
Occasionally, Jewish communal leaders abroad discouraged East European Jewish migrants from making the long journey to their country. If these migrants still decided to come, unemployment would await them, as well as – although lesser than in their homeland – antagonism.59 Especially in America and England, Jewish officials pressured relief organisation to cease the flow of migrants to their respective country. In 1882, American Jews frequently explained that they were not equipped to aid this kind of influx of East European Jews properly, and requested to stop the migration to their side of the Atlantic. Organisations in Europe maybe wanted to comply with the plea of their brethren in New York. However, there was no desire to harbour a flood of migrants in their own countries. Thus, when New York made their request, the Mansion House Fund in London extended a sum of 25,000 pounds to the HEAS if the immigration to America was not halted. A few months later, the AIU and the Paris-based Comité de secours pour les Israélites de Russie (‘Committee to help the Russian Jews’) proposed another conditional offer: a contribution of 100,000 francs to HEAS if they put an earnest effort
57 Wischnitzer, To Dwell in Safety, 45-46. 58 Brinkmann, “From Hinterberlin to Berlin,” 348.
59 Llyod P. Gartner, “The Great Jewish Migration 1881-1914: Myths and Realities,” Shofar 4, no. 2 (January 1, 1986): 17.
in counteracting the East European Jewish re-migration flow. The French committee feared that, instead of going back to the Russian Empire, the migrants would linger in Western Europe and eventually settle in there. However, the HEAS, or the Jewish communal leaders in the United States, did not revise their stance: “The New York Hebrew Emigrant Aid Society felt that all that the European Jewish leaders wanted was to rid themselves of the emigrants.”60 Throughout the period under consideration, friction between the different organisations was not unusual. The occasional squabble could mostly be attributed to differences in the perspective on how the migration flow should be managed. From time to time, the United States threatened to accept only a minimum number – preferably none – of East European Jewish immigrants, while in Western and Central Europe the opposite occurred. They tried to embark as many Jewish refugees to America in order to remove the possibility of them settling in Europe. These tacks were not beneficial for further international cooperation.61
60 Szajkowski, “The European Attitude,” 128-130.
61 For a comprehensive survey on the manner how relief organisations in London, Paris and New York, especially, but also Vienna and Berlin, tried to manage the East European Jewish migration flow in their favour, see Szajkowski, “The European Attitude,” 127-135.
2 Jews in the Netherlands
2.1 From Jewish ‘nation’ to Jewish congregation
The year 1796 marked a fundamental change in the legal position of the approximately 20,355 Jews residing in the Batavian Republic (1795-1806).62 Influenced by the French Revolution and the ideas of the Enlightenment, a small group of Jews – and some Gentiles – assembled in the patriotic association Felix Libertate (1795-1798). A year later, they presented the proposition to grant civil rights to the Dutch-Jewish population in the National Assembly.63
Surprisingly enough, much resistance came from within the Jewish section. Civil equalisation clashed with their exceptionalposition within Dutch society. Since Jews composed a separate entity, a tendency to integration and assimilation would emerge. Such assimilation into – mainly Christian – Dutch society could jeopardise their Jewish identity.64 Nevertheless, on September 2, 1796, the motion was unanimously approved.65
Before the emancipation decree, the Ashkenazi – from Central and Eastern Europe – and Sephardic – of Spanish and Portuguese descent – communities were regarded as a national minority, as members of the Jewish ‘nation’ – by the Gentile population as well as by themselves.66 Thereby still viewed, socially and legally, as (semi-)foreigners. After September 1796, these Dutch Jews had to become Jewish Dutchmen: they had to integrate into the non-Jewish environment to the highest degree possible. Their municipalities were now required to be nothing more than a congregation. Since, for the government, Judaism was merely a religious
62 Jonathan I. Israel, “De Republiek der Verenigde Nederlanden tot omstreeks 1750: Religieus, cultureel en sociaal leven,” in Geschiedenis van de joden in Nederland, edited by Hans Blom et al. (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Balans, 2017), 115.
63 Hans Blom, “‘Wij waren joden, wij werden Israeliëten. Wij zijn weer joden.’ Appreciaties van de emancipatie van de joden in Nederland,” Ons Erfdeel 39 (1996): 507.
64 Arend H. Huussen, “The Legal Position of the Jews in the Dutch Republic: 1590-1796,” in Dutch Jewry: Its History and Secular Culture (1500-2000), edited by Jonathan I. Israel and Reinier Salverda (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 41. 65 This granting of civil rights to the Jewish citizens were not engendered from an appreciation of Judaism or to compensate for past injustice towards them, but simply came from the principles of the Enlightenment: also Jews could become fine, ‘enlightened’ citizens (Jan Stoutenbeek and Paul Vigeveno, Joods Amsterdam: Een geïllustreerde gids (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Bas Lubberhuizen), 21). Furthermore, the proclamation followed only a few weeks after the edict of the separation between State and Church, which meant “equal rights for all the (Christian) religious denominations.” Since the Batavian Republic knew a rich religious diversity, and most of the state divided within itself, including adherents of Protestantism, Calvinism, the Ramon Catholic Church, and Lutherans (Huussen, “Legal Position of the Jews,” in Dutch Jewry, ed. by Israel and Salverda, 41).
66 Bart Wallet and Irene E. Zwiep, “Locals: Jews in the Early Modern Dutch Republic,” in Cambridge History of Judaism: Vol. 7: The Early Modern World, 1500-1815, edited by Jonathan Karp and Adam Sutcliff (Cambridge: Cambridge University), 903.
business.67 The first alterations were primarily in the internal structure of the Jewish communities: from a (semi-) autonomous Portuguese or High German ‘nation’, where much was arranged within one's community, to a part of a Jewish congregation.68 However, the daily lives of the Jewish proletariat were not marked by significant visible changes. The political turbulence, which characterised these years, made it challenging to enact elaborated legislations.69 The orthodox elite was not extremely interested in the whole emancipation matter. Instead, they just ignored it and pretended that nothing had changed.70 Contrary to the wealthy bourgeoisie who profited from this alteration. Halachic customs and habits became increasingly marginalised for this group. They assimilated in the non-Jewish environment and became a part of the Gentile bourgeoisie.
2.1.1 The first steps to assimilation
It was only from the first decades of the nineteenth century onwards that the everyday lives of the Dutch-Jewish population changed substantively. The first half of the century was characterised by a high degree of government involvement in the Jewish communities and Jewish life. The autonomy of Jewish municipalities ceased and the parnassim's – leaders of a Jewish community – power reduced. The administrations of Louis Napoléon Bonaparte (1778-1846) and William I (1772-1843) were actively involved in the acceleration of the social integration of the Jews.71 The government resolutions affected the organisation of synagogues, which were remodelled after ecclesiastical example.72 The ‘Israelite congregation’, which
67 Bart Wallet, “Dutch National Identity and Jewish International Solidarity: An Impossible Combination? Dutch Jewry and the Significance of the Damascus Affair (1840),” in The Dutch Intersection: The Jews and the Netherlands in Modern History, edited by Yosef Kaplan (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 319.
68 Within a Jewish community, Dutch Jews could practice their beliefs, maintain their language (Portuguese or Yiddish) and culture (Hans Knippenberg, “Assimilating Jews in Dutch Nation-Building: The Missing ‘Pillar’,” Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 93, no. 2 (May 2001): 194). The parnassim functioned as intermediaries between the community and the local government. They were empowered to govern areas as social relief and the observance of religious customs and laws. The parnassim even had judiciary power to a certain degree – to issue fines, or, in extreme cases, to excommunicate members. Through taxes, contributions, donations, and fines, the municipalities also remained financially independent (Stoutenbeek and Vigeveno, Joods Amsterdam, 18-20; Yosef Kaplan, “De joden in de Republiek tot omstreeks 1750: Religieus, cultuur en social leven,” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 135).
69 Salvador Bloemgarten and Jaap van Velzen, Joods Amsterdam in een bewogen tijd 1890-1940: Beeldverhaal (Zwolle: Waanders, 1997), 7.
70 Michman, “‘Species Hollandia Judaica’,” 56.
71 Ludo Abicht, Geschiedenis van de joden van de Lage Landen (Amsterdam: Meulenhoff, 2006), 158-159; Bart Wallet, Nieuwe Nederlanders: De integratie van joden in Nederland (1814-1851) (Amsterdam: Bakker, 2007), 97-100, 137-138.
72 Sylvain Wijnberg, De Joden in Amsterdam: Een studie over verandering in hun attitudes (PhD diss., Utrecht University, 1967), 3.
included both the Sephardic and the Ashkenazi Jews, had full authority on a religious level, while the administrative and social side now fell under the responsibility of the Dutch authorities. To make sure everything would run as efficiently as possible an intermediary committee between the Dutch government and local Jewish communities was established in 1817, the Hoofdcommissie tot Zaken der Israëlieten in Nederland (‘Supreme Committee for Israelite Affairs’, 1814-1870). Relevant here is the term ‘Israelite’, introduced by enlightened Jews. The term indicated the purely religious character of Judaism, which signifies the transition from a Jewish nation to a Jewish denomination.73
2.1.2 Separation of Synagogue and State
Whereas the first half of the nineteenth century was characterised by governmental involvement, the government gradually withdrew from and insisted on rapid independence of the Jewish ‘denomination’ during the second half. The separation of church and state, legislated in the revision of the constitution of 1848, brought an end to active government interference. The full enactment of the emancipation decree was at last implemented in every aspect of Dutch society – only about eighty years later than the legal edict. For the Jewish citizens – as a population, as individuals, and as minorities – the new circumstances entailed more opportunities for self-development. The new statutes of the Nederlands-Israëlietisch Kerkgenootschap (‘Dutch-Israelite Denomination’; NIK), instituting an ecclesiastical organisation corresponding with the promulgated separation, was finally enacted in 1870. From then on, the districts of the NIK, which roughly corresponded with the Dutch provinces, were – to a great degree – able to individually manage their congregation. The Sephardic communities of Amsterdam and The Hague detached themselves from the NIK and constituted their
community, the Portugees-Israëlietisch Kerkgenootschap (‘Portuguese-Israelite
Denomination’; PIK), in the same year.74 Although they previously had operated relatively independently from each other, they formally belonged to the same community. Now, the Ashkenazi community and the Sephardic community were officially two separate institutions, albeit in general similarly organised. The structure, as well as terms like Kerkgenootschap, which means ‘church denomination’, were adopted mainly from Christian – Protestant –
73 Irene E. Zwiep, “Yiddish, Dutch and Hebrew: Language Theory, Language Ideology and the Emancipation of Nineteenth-Century Dutch Jewry,” Studia Rosenthaliana 34, no. 1 (2000): 56.
74 Wallet, “‘Godsdienstzin, beschaving en arbeidzaamheid.’ De centralisatie en nationalisering van de Nederlandse joden (1814-1870),” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 235-237.
denominations.75 This ‘Dutchification’ of the Jewish religious organisation demonstrated the desire to acculturate.
2.1.3 The NIK
The Dutch-Israelite Denomination was supervised by a Central Committee (CC), and a Permanent Committee (PC) served as the executive committee. The CC consisted of representatives from all the districts, who were selected by the municipalities and no longer appointed by the government.76 The PC, appointed by the CC, comprised three members, all from Amsterdam. Though, a return to the hegemony enjoyed by the Amsterdam Jews was not in the cards. Every municipality had a high degree of autonomy, in which the CC had no say in the religious, financial, and family affairs. Mostly under the supervision of orthodox rabbis, local communities turned out to be strong enough to limit the influence of ‘Amsterdam’ in their affairs wherever possible.77 This high degree of independence induced, however, a lack of
coordination and contact.
Joseph Hirsch Dünner (1833-1911), the Chief Rabbi of the Nederlands-Israëlietische Hoofdsynagoge (‘Dutch-Israelite Supreme Synagogue’; NIHS) of Amsterdam, managed to make an impact on the religious and ‘ecclesiastical’ Jewish life that would last several decades. Hans Blom (b. 1943) and Cahen describe this imprint as “characterised by a combination of orthodoxy in religion, a ‘proper’ progression of the synagogue service, and the acceptance that large groups of members observed the Jewish laws only to a limited extent as a sign of secularisation also in their own Jewish circle.”78 Dünner, born in Krakow and educated in Germany, was brought to the Netherlands to revive the rabbinical education in 1862. As rector of the Nederlands Israëlietisch Seminarium (‘Dutch Israelite Seminarium’), a position he filled since 1865, he trained many Dutch rabbis. Hereby Dünner ended the long tradition of bringing foreign rabbis to the Netherlands – in particular from Germany. He aimed to rid traditional orthodoxy from its mystical elements, moving towards a more rationalist, moderate orthodoxy.79 Dünner had a – somewhat surprising – companion in Jewish banker Abraham
75 Hans Blom and Joël J. Cahen, “Joodse Nederlanders, Nederlandse joden en joden in Nederland (1870-1940),” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 300.
76 Wallet, “De centralisatie en nationalisering,” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 236. 77 Abicht, De Lage Landen, 167.
78 Blom and Cahen, “Joodse Nederlanders,” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 276.
79 Bart Wallet, “‘The Great Eagle, the Pride of Jacob’: Jozeph Hirsch Dünner in Dutch Jewish Memory Culture,” in The Religious Cultures of Dutch Jewry, edited by Yosef Kaplan and Dan Michman (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 304-305; Evelien Gans, “Image(s) of ‘The Rav’ through the Lens of an Involved Historian: Jaap Meijer’s Depiction of Rabbi Jozeph Hirsch Dünner,” in ibid., 321.
Carel Wertheim (1832-1897), the chairman of the NIHS (1886-1897). Wertheim, a highly integrated and largely secularised Jew, was a prominent figure in Amsterdam society. He was very active in the social and cultural life of the city as well as in the liberal political field– even making it into the Senate of North Holland. Although Judaism did not play a significant role in his personal life – he was not pious, nor did he observe kashrut, the Jewish dietary laws, or Shabbat – Wertheim was still very involved with the fate of his unfortunate brethren in Amsterdam and the Mediene.80 He advocated a strict public-private duality: at home, or in the synagogue, one had the choice to be an Israelite, in public, however, one must be a fellow Dutch citizen in every aspect of the word – political, social, and cultural.81 These two men were a perfect example of the collaboration between orthodox rabbis – like Dünner – and the, often, non-pious administrators – such as Wertheim. Both believed that it was best to hold on to orthodoxy, for the Jewish congregation as well as for its members – thereby maintaining the fragile unity of the community.
The inclination to remain one congregation was a tendency that was firmly maintained. Although the Jewish congregation was formally orthodox, its members were pretty much free in their degree of Jewish religiosity. Different religious movements could, therefore, function alongside each other in one congregation. This co-existence sprang from the ‘Hollandse middelmaat’ (‘Dutch average’) – a term applied by Bart Wallet (b. 1977) on this specific Dutch-Jewish situation, indicating the adaptation of one of the leading Dutch characteristics: "aversion to extremes and a preference for the moderate middle ground."82 Wallet explains how the Dutch-Jewish congregation typifies itself through this ‘Dutch average’: “…both orthodox and reform desires were kept together; changes were made only in the way of gradualism, with small steps. They went too far for the one and not far enough for the other but were so gradual that they did not lead to separation and schism.”83 Contrary to other West European countries,
especially Germany, there was no sign of reform Judaism or liberal Jewish organisation during this period. After a failed effort by a small group of liberal Jews in 1860, it took them seventy more years to finally assemble and institutionalise. Although a reform movement was absent in the Netherlands, that did not mean that the community represented a unity. The contrast between conservatives and progressives, orthodox and liberal Jews became increasingly apparent.84<
80 Blom and Cahen, “Joodse Nederlanders,” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 303. 81 Abicht, De Lage Landen, 178, 187.
82Wallet, “De centralisatie en nationalisering,” in Geschiedenis van de joden, ed. by Blom et al., 256. 83Ibid., 259.
