Spread of a demented narrative
Howard Cooper admires the industry of a writer on a baleful phenomenon. Hester Abrams rediscovers Max Brod Blood Libel
Harvard University Press, £31.95 Reviewed by Howard Cooper
IT’S THE myth that keeps on giving: the Jewish ritual murder of Christian children, the use of Christian blood in the baking of matzot or for other secret rites, the whole demented narrative of Jewish bloodlust that crops up to this day on state-sponsored TV in Arab lands and on far-right white supremacist websites. We in the UK know where the myth began, for England has the doleful distinction of hosting the first recorded blood libel, following the death of a twelve-year-old boy, William, in Norwich in 1144. And, as Magda Teter shows with magisterial scholarly precision — following prodigious research in archives throughout Europe and America, including newly available material from the Vatican — this baneful story refused to let go of the European imagination.
Once it sank its vampiric teeth into the Christian psyche, it surfaced over and over again through the centuries, spreading from western Europe through central then eastern Europe, until, in the 19th century, it reached the Ottoman empire and thereafter was integrated into Nazi propaganda through the notorious May 1934 edition of Der Stürmer, which was devoted entirely to the history of the “Jewish murder plan” and drew extensively on the documents and literary sources that Professor Teter analyses with such rigorous elan.
Utilising her familiarity with the ten languages required to read and translate the primary textual sources of this deadly European bacillus, Teter highlights the emergence of the printing press in 15th-century Germany as a key event for the transmission of “knowledge” of Jewish crimes: “Rumours and lore became ‘facts’ once they entered reputable, printed books”. Fake news, avant la lettre.
Until then, fantasies of Jewish murders of Christian children were stories transmitted by word of mouth — and Professor Teter follows the manuscript trail from England to France, then to Germany and on to Poland and Italy.
It is striking that such accusations were denounced by emperors and popes alike.
When a Christian girl was found dead in Valréas in Provence in 1247, and Jews were tortured and burnt at the stake, Pope Innocent IV denounced the “unpraiseworthy zeal” and “detestable cruelty” of the Christian community.
But, as Teter shows in relentless detail, the death of a toddler in Trent, Italy, in 1475 marked a turning point in Catholic anti-Jewish feeling: the antisemitic cult of St Simon of Trent, established in the wake of that libel, was only abolished by the Vatican in 1965 as part of its post-Shoah turn towards Jewish reconciliation and dialogue.
How did Jews respond to these murderous outbursts? While Ashkenazi communities produced martyrologies and practical guides about how to resist torture and organise financial support, Sephardi responses tended to be more polemical, marshalling legal arguments in defence of their co-religionists.
As this chilling book unwittingly testifies, if the global forces of xenophobic populism continue to grow, we should keep an eye on this myth that refuses to die.
Howard Cooper is rabbinic director of spiritual development at Finchley Reform Synagogue