Scapegoat: The Jews, Israel, and Women's Liberation

This work took Dworkin NINE years to complete. And it really shows when one sits down to read it. It is incredibly well researched; indeed, most of the book is quotes from others and then Andrea's questions--tough questions--regarding them. Make no mistake however, you will not get the same information simply by reading the works of others; Andrea only picks the best of the best sources to quote, and the questions she asks are brilliant. I absolutely cannot say enough good things about this book. It was the first Andrea Dworkin book I completed. Now, I can't wait to get my hands (or rather, eyes) on another one. :-)

_Scapegoat_, Andrea Dworkin's first book of the twenty-first century, is a work which raises, once again, the question of what it is to be human.The question is implicit in any discussion of _dehumanization_. Were the Jews in Germany dehumanized by the anti-semitic propaganda of the Nazis, or can the acceptance of the images of Jews presented in anti-semitic propaganda be compatible with the recognition of Jews as human beings? Are the women in pornography dehumanized by what Dworkin sees as the misogynistic propaganda of pornographers, or can the acceptance of the images of women presented in pornography be compatible with the recognition of women as human beings?Dworkin's answers - "no" to both questions - stem from the conviction that there is something that it is to be human which is not compatible with being the stigmatized, objectified target of legitimized violence. One cannot be a human being and simultaneously be the kind of being whom it is just, reasonable and perhaps even erotically satisfying for another human being to rape, torture and kill. The willingness - to borrow a phrase - of Hitler's executioners to rape, torture and kill millions of Jews strongly implies that they did not and could not regard the Jews as human beings. According to Dworkin, the banality and ubiquity of rape and prostitution in male-dominated societies indicate a similar "willingness" among men, and a similar refusal or inability to perceive the humanity of their victims._Scapegoat_ asks what it is to be human, and rejects the answer that it is to be Aryan, or middle class, or male in a world in which non-Aryans, the poor and women are contrastingly less than human. Dworkin sees this answer as one of the underpinnings of the modern state, be it US or Israeli, where accession to full humanity and citizenship means casting off the stigma of dehumanization *and transferring it to others*. The scapegoat is made to be the bearer of one's own past humiliation and dishonour. Hence the astonishing malice of many of those who have escaped from poverty towards those who remain poor, the immense rage of the newly affluent against the "idle, immoral, irresponsible" underclass from whom they must struggle to distinguish themselves. Becoming "respectable" often means taking on the values and attitudes of those who formerly treated you like dirt.Dworkin argues for a conception of the state the humanity and citizenship of whose members is not predicated on the scapegoating and dehumanization of the poor and stateless. She demands sovereignty for women, and predicts that organised, concerted and possibly violent struggle will be necessary to obtain it. Note that sovereignty does not mean social domination: Dworkin is not arguing for a substitution of female supremacism for male supremacism, but for a non-supremacist notion of sovereignty, a concept of the human which would not be merely a metaphysical transliteration of the social self-

In "Scapegoat," Andrea Dworkin comes clean. For the better part of her career, she has been dropping hints about the connections, or parallels, or metaphorical affinities between the Holocaust and violence against women. These hints have always had a meretricious quality in the absence of a detailed argument. "Scapegoat" comes as a true surprise. This book is not "Intercourse" plus the well-worn Holocaust analogy as an indicator of oppression: it is a serious monograph on the comparative lot of stateless peoples, including women. Dworkin's quotes from Jewish and non-Jewish writers are respectful and attentive, though self-indulgent in sheer number. Her analysis of Jewish religion and culture is critical but fair and reflective of great pride. The apocalyptic kitsch which the reader has a right to expect from Dworkin is less often on display here, and though men don't come off too well, there is relatively little time spent on deconstructions of "male" sexuality as the root of violence. Dworkin here is far more pragmatic: she blames any form of entrenched power and its abuses. This book is the closest Dworkin has ever come to mainstream cultural studies. If there is any justice in same, she will receive the readership "Scapegoat" deserves: people who sit through 600 pages a throw of Lacan, Foucault or Donna Haraway ought to be able to stomach this book with no trouble at all. In a perfect world.But though this is Dworkin's best, most lucid and readable nonfiction book, it finally suffers by promoting just that which it argues to defeat, and what its existence calls into question almost by definition: presumptions of the ontological "uniqueness" of the Holocaust. The comparison to the abuse of women is not meant to relativize either, though the book's anthology of quotes offers a good deal of evidence for doing so. It is, instead, meant to assign to women an ontological specialness equivalent to being Jewish. Quite apart from the morally problematic nature of any such specialness, Dworkin falters badly on the necessary follow-through. The specialness of suffering results from a landless status which Dworkin is right in assuming not to be uniquely Jewish. By her own admission, there is no equivalent in specific female experience to the Jewish religion, which she correctly identifies as the unifying factor that has allowed even secular Jews to experience themselves as "chosen." Her alternative may be feminist ethical consciousness, but the analogy suffers from the fact that this is by definition a consciousness meant to transcend national boundaries. Like many other Jewish feminists, she identifies with Zionism and offers a severe yet forgiving analysis of its treatment of the Palestinians. She makes a fascinating parallel between Jewish ghettoization of Palestinians and feminist disdain for sexually abused women. Yet this analogy finally does not wash either. After four hundred pages devoted to the concept of

I loved this book! Dworkin writes to provoke, elucidate and to inspire-not to entertain. This is a truthful book, and the truth is dangerous. Dworkin's deftly crafted comparative analysis of women's and the Jews' plight powerfully illustrates male oppression. The Kirkus reviewer never read Scapegoat-or did so with half an eye. For a reviewer to claim that historical facts are due to "Dworkin's own bitter personal feelings (rooted in her experience as a battered woman)" is pitiful. The comments in the Kirkus review are willfully misleading. This book is a definitive piece on human oppression should not be missed!