Abstract: The article aims to tease out the relationship between, on the one hand, changing rhetorical strategies for dealing with ‘post-war-tabooed’ antisemitism in the Austrian parliament and, on the other, shifts in democratic culture – that is, the expression of democratic equality in the publicly sayable. Starting from the theoretical assumptions that parliament symbolises democracy tout court and that parliamentarism is a ‘rhetorical condition of democracy’ (Kari Palonen), we seek to explore the nexus between parliamentary rhetoric and democracy in depth. We do so, first, by identifying the successive postwar rhetorical strategies for dealing with antisemitism in their (historical) political context and, second, by delineating how those strategies mark shifting boundaries of the sayable in relation to antisemitism in Austrian postwar parliamentary rhetoric. Third, we show how those strategies and shifts signify transformations of Austrian democratic culture and democracy and that this process has a gendered dimension. Methodologically, we draw on a multidisciplinary mix of qualitative approaches, combining discourse and rhetoric analysis, specialised approaches to the analysis of parliamentary debate, and Conceptual History.
Abstract: A mentally healthy human being can go insane if suddenly diagnosed with leprosy. Eugen Ionescu finds out that even the “Ionescu” name, an indisputable Romanian father, and the fact of being born Christian can do nothing, nothing, nothing to cover the curse of having Jewish blood in his veins. With resignation and sometimes with I don't know what sad and discouraged pride, we got used to this dear leprosy a long time ago.
With these words, the Romanian–Jewish writer Mihail Sebastian expresses within his private diary some of the darkest moments of a World War II “transfigured” Romania, populated as they are by the gothic characters of legionaries, Nazis, and antisemitism. His death soon followed in 1945, when Romania was at the threshold of fascism and communism. However, with the discovery and the subsequent publishing of Sebastian's diary in 1996, and following 50 years of communist mystification of the Jewish Holocaust, the entire chaotic war atmosphere with the fascist affections of the Romanian intellectual elite was once again brought to light with all the flavor and scent of the dark past. In this entry from Sebastian's diary he speaks of his friend, Eugen Ionescu who, born of a French-related mother and a Romanian father, was living in Bucharest at that time. He would later become known to the world as Eugène Ionesco, the famous French playwright and author of the well-known plays The Bald Soprano and The Rhinoceros. The above quote from Sebastian's journal, predating the international fame of Ionesco, but already marking the end of Sebastian's career under fascism, remains a traumatizing testimony of the Jewish Kafkian torment as “guilt,” a deeply claustrophobic identity that many Eastern European Jewish intellectuals have learned to internalize. Beyond this symbolism, the publishing of Sebastian's diary in Romania unintentionally challenged an existent post-communist tendency of legitimizing inter-war fascist personalities within the framework of a general lack of knowledge about the Jewish Holocaust in both the communist and post-communist periods.
Abstract: Les frontières séparent, dit-on, les territoires, les espaces, les individus et les communautés. Elles sont tantôt solides comme un mur, tantôt légères comme un fil. Matérielles ou symboliques, durables ou éphémères, profanes ou sacrées, les frontières partagent. Mais, comme la porte, la frontière est aussi ce que deux entités ont en partage ; comme le seuil, la frontière entrelace les espaces.
L'eruv est cette frontière discrète, ce mur symbolique fait de portes, cette séparation presque immatérielle qui privatise une portion de la voie publique pour permettre aux Juifs rabbiniques de respecter les interdits du shabbat à l'extérieur du domicile. Réfléchir à l'eruv – ce mur fait de fils tendus sur la ville –, c'est interroger notre lecture d'un espace commun aux significations multiples, c'est questionner notre conception de la bonne distance entre la religion et le politique, c'est évaluer la tolérance des sociétés démocratiques à la différence. Sans que les frontières ne deviennent des clôtures et sans que les portes ne se transforment en murs.
