Vygotsky & Bernstein in the Light of Jewish Tradition 9781618111067

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VYGOTSKY & BERNSTEIN IN THE LIGHT OF JEWISH TRADITION

Judaism and Jewish Life Series Editor: Simcha Fishbane (Touro College, New York) Editorial Board: Geoffrey Alderman (University of Buckingham) Meir Bar-Ilan (Bar-Ilan University) Herbert Basser (Queen’s University) Donatella Ester Di Cesare (Universita La Sapienza) Roberta Rosenberg Farber (Yeshiva University) Andreas Nachama (Touro College, Berlin) Ira Robinson (Concordia University) Nissan Rubin (Bar-Ilan Unviersity) Susan Starr Sered (Suffolk University) Reeva Spector Simon (Yeshiva University)

VYGOTSKY & BERNSTEIN IN THE LIGHT OF JEWISH TRADITION ANTONELLA CASTELNUOVO BELLA KOTIK-FRIEDGUT Preface by CLOTILDE PONTECORVO

Boston 2015

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

Copyright © 2015 Academic Studies Press All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-936235-58-2 (hardback) ISBN 978-1-618111-06-7 (electronic)

Cover design by Ivan Grave The photograph of Basil Bernstein is reproduced by the Bernstein family permission.

Published by Academic Studies Press in 2015 28 Montfern Avenue Brighton, MA 02135, USA [email protected] www. academicstudiespress.com

Jewish continuity has always hinged on uttered and written words, on an expanding maze of interpretations, debates, and disagreements, and on a unique human rapport. —Amos Oz and Fania Oz-Salzberger, Jews and Words.

In the memory of Shoshana Blum-Kulka, a great scholar and a great friend, who passed away in Jerusalem while I was writing this book. To her I dedicate the deep message of Judaism, which unfolds its shape through words and in conversations. (A.C.)

Contents

List of Illustrations........................................................................................................ xi Acknowledgements.................................................................................................... xiii Clotilde Pontecorvo Introduction...................................................................................................................xv Antonella Castelnuovo Prelude to the Inquiry................................................................................................... 1 PART I: JEWS AND JUDAISM IN DIASPORA Antonella Castelnuovo, Bella Kotik-Friedgut 1. Jews in Scientific Professions: A Quest for a Methodological Inquiry...............................................................................19 1.1  Jews and Modernity....................................................................................... 20 1.2  Jews and Science in a Socio-Cultural Perspective.................................... 26 1.3  Jewish Identity and Scientific Professions................................................. 31 1.4  Epistemological Paradigms in the New Sciences..................................... 35 1.5  Methodology: Biographies of Lives, Biographies of Ideas..................... 42 Antonella Castelnuovo 2. The Conditions of Jews in Diaspora.......................................................... 45 2.1  Judaism in Diaspora....................................................................................... 45

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2.2  Jews in Cultural-Historical Milieu............................................................... 48 2.3  Jewishness in a Secular World...................................................................... 54 2.4  A Jewish Weltanschauung?............................................................................. 58 3. Judaism: The Unifying Principles........................................................ 62 3.1  Judaism as a System of Life........................................................................... 63 3.1.1 Cosmology............................................................................................. 65 3.1.2  The Concept of History....................................................................... 67 3.1.3  Holiness and Separation...................................................................... 70 3.1.4  The Idea of the Community and the Just Society........................... 72 3.1.5  Universalism and Particularism......................................................... 75 3.2  The Jewish Mode of Cultural Transmission.............................................. 76 3.3  The Bible as a Narrative Genre.................................................................... 79 3.4  Summary of Judaism’s Basic Principles...................................................... 82 PART II: BIOGRAPHIES OF LIFE AND OF IDEAS Bella Kotik-Friedgut 4. The Jewish Influence in Vygotsky’s Life and Ideas.............................. 87 4.1  Russia at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century.................................. 90 4.2  Years in Gomel’ (1897-1913)...................................................................... 91 4.3  Vygotsky’s Home Life and Education........................................................ 93 4.4 The Gymnasiia and the History Seminars.................................................. 97 4.5  University Years............................................................................................101 5. Vygotsky’s Creative Work.................................................................. 113 5.1  From Optimism to Despair........................................................................113 5.2  A Life in Psychology....................................................................................118 5.3 Influence of Jewish Background on Vygotsky’s Psychological Theory...................................................................................119 5.4 Conclusion.....................................................................................................128 Antonella Castelnuovo 6. Bernstein’s Life and Work in the Light of Jewish Tradition................................................................................. 130 6.1  The Man and the Mentor............................................................................132 6.2 Biography.......................................................................................................136 6.3  The Social Milieu..........................................................................................140 6.4  Work and Research......................................................................................148 6.5  Early Years: Speech Codes as “Sanctuaries of Consciousness”...........150 6.6  Families as Social Units: Ritual and Ethic...............................................162

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7. Bernstein: Toward the Unifying Principle........................................ 169 7.1  Classification and Framing as Maps of Knowledge...............................170 7.2  Bernstein’s View of Judaism........................................................................177 7.3  Bernstein’s Concepts in the Light of Judaic Principles.........................181 7.3.1  The Judaic God is Invisible..............................................................181 7.3.2 Holiness Established the Relationship between God and Man......................................................................................184 7.3.3  Holiness Is Realized in Prayer, Ritual and Classification...........187 7.3.4  The Perfect Community...................................................................190 7.3.5  Judaism is an Unmediated Religion...............................................193 7.3.6  Judaism is a Non-Exemplary Religion...........................................194 7.4 Reflections.....................................................................................................197 7.5  Bernstein’s Language and Consciousness................................................202 7.6  Final Remarks................................................................................................209 PART III: IMPLEMENTATION AND EPILOGUE Antonella Castelnuovo 8. Bernstein and Biblical Discourse...................................................... 217 8.1  Bernstein’s Codes in the Light of a Biblical Society...............................218 8.2  Biblical Narrative and Oral Discourse......................................................221 8.3 Sociolinguistic Interpretation of the Dialogue between God and Man......................................................................................................223 8.3.1 Elaborated and Restricted Codes in Dialogues between God and Man..................................................................................................223 8.3.2 Divine Discourse in Prophetic Vocation: Elaborated Code................................................................................225 8.3.3  Revelation in the Sinai: Restricted Code......................................232 8.4 Discussion......................................................................................................239 8.5 Historical Antecedents of Bernstein’s Codes in the Jewish Tradition................................................................................243 8.6  Concluding Remarks...................................................................................247 Antonella Castelnuovo and Bella Kotik-Friedgut 9. Epilogue............................................................................................. 255 Bibliography................................................................................................................263 Index.............................................................................................................................281

List of Illustrations

1. Photo of Lev Semionovich Vygotsky.................................................................. 19 2. Photos of Basil Bernstein: a. Basil Bernstein at a congress...........................................................................130 b. Basil Bernstein in the Royal Air Force.......................................................... 139 c. Basil Bernstein at home....................................................................................167

Acknowledgements

O

ur thanks to Series Editor, Simcha Fishbane, who first believed in the worth of this book. Much of our gratitude goes to the Director of Academic Studies Press, Igor Nemirovsky, who had the patience to wait for the progression of this work, allowing to bring our endeavor to its final shape. A.C. & B. K-F. Special thanks to Ted Friedgut who edited the first drafts of my chapters. This helped to improve my English and clarify my ideas. I’m grateful to Yuri Karpov who provided some general directions at the very beginning of this work. My thanks go to Michael Keefer for his interest in the subject and for his valuable suggestions. I’m also grateful to Alex Rofe’ and Gianfranco Di Segni for their comments on the parts of this book concerning Judaism. I want to say thank you to Irene Kajon, Donald Sassoon, Paul Corner who provided valuable suggestions with the framing of cultural and historical facts, allowing to contextualize my discourse in a socio-historical perspective. A special thanks goes to Ruqaiya Hasan who provided constructive criticism in setting up my research question, and the many aspects connected with it. I also want to thank Michael Worsley, Basil Bernstein’s best friend, for the memories of his youth which he agreed to share with me. Many thanks to Saul, Francis, and Marion Bernstein for allowing permission to publishing Basil’s photos in this book. I’m particularly grateful to Marion Bernstein for her encouragement and support in finding valuable material which helped me to throw a new light on facts and issues concerning this work.

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Acknowledgements

Finally, many thanks go to my husband Renzo, who willingly engaged in lengthy discussions corncerning the themes of this book, as a sign of an interest in the things which count in our respective lives. A.C. My cordial thanks to my husband Ted Friedgut, dear friend and co-author of the first inquiry into the Jewish aspects in the life and work of Lev Vygotsky, for his unstinting support and help. B. K-F.

Introduction Clotilde Pontecorvo*

W

  hen Antonella Castelnuovo and Bella Kotik-Friedgut, two scholars and authors of the volume I am introducing, invited me to preface their study about L. S. Vygotsky and B. Bernstein in the light of the Jewish tradition, I accepted this invitation with great pleasure. It seemed to me a very original perspective from which we can look at the contribution of such important and contemporary social scientists. Nevertheless, it has not been an easy task; not least because, as far as I know, there was not any direct connection between the two authors during their scientific life, with the exception of Bernstein’s letter1 written to L. S. Vygotsky’s widow after her husband’s death. However, the Jewish tradition accompanies each of them, although in very different aspects of their theoretical studies and of their empirical research. With reference to both the authors, anyway, Judaism goes to the roots of their fundamental theoretical reflection. With reference to L.S. Vygotsky’ work, the most relevant thematic is that included in his volume Thought and Language, which was posthumously published in 1934, and in particular the seventh and last chapter of the book. * Emeritus Professor in Psychology of Education, University La Sapienza, Rome. 1 Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 15-16. The article to which Bernstein refers was originally published as “Thought and Speech,” Psychiatry 2 (1939): 29-54. Bernstein very likely read the version re-published in New York in 1961, A Book of Readings, 509-537. Letter dated November 27, 1964. Source: L. S. Vygotsky’s personal archive.

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Here L. S. Vygotsky tackles the theme of the difference between spoken and written language, highlighting the mainly predicative character of the speech. Among the plurality of examples he gives, narrative texts prevail, taken in particular from the most important Russian literature of the nineteenth century, with many references to Tolstoy’s works. This specific underlining of the narrative dimension connects to the distinction Auerbach makes in Mimesis, between biblical language and the language of Homer’s works, as well as the modern romance. The author we aim to talk about is Aharon Appelfeld, who discloses the elliptical communicative way of the Bible in a text called The Language and the Silence, in which he retraces his personal relationship with the language he discovers after escaping from the Nazi extermination camp in Transnistria, where he lost his parents.2 He thus mastered biblical Hebrew and began to write fiction. The writing style is predicative and narrative, rich in actions and feelings, whereas in other kind of prose prevails a descriptive and materialistic language with a very accurate analysis performed by the middle generation, those that after their parents’ death, managed to escape from the extermination camps, without having any spoken language yet. This is described in his first autobiographic book. In his biography, Appelfeld tells how, at the time they escaped, his father had brought him to a place bordering the Warsaw ghetto, reassuring the boy that he would come back to take him, leaving him with a gun to defend himself, only if necessary. He found escape in the underworld of Ukrainian crime, although he was aware of the huge distance that separated him from the liberal Judaism of his parents and the modern religiosity of his grandparents, not to mention his communist uncles, who had contributed to the liberation of humanity. Once he saved himself, Aharon approached Israel in 1946, at the age of 13, finding himself with no thinkable memories, refugee, without any shared value at all, without a past, an orphan without any relatives or friends, and especially without his own language, as spoken in the new country. Appelfeld shows very perceptively his discovery of the Bible, which he read and copied daily, becoming, after the war, an original and well known 2 The text of Aharon Appelfeld was given to me by Professor Elena Löwenthal, a great expert and translator into Italian of the most important literary works of contemporary Israeli authors, during university annual course within the three-year Diploma of Jewish Studies of UCEI Rome, in the year 2012-2013.

Introduction

xvii

Israeli writer. Using the Bible as a model of communication for written language, Aharon managed to write his first work, and, as he was very proud of it, decided that should be his path in life, although he continued tilling the soil and the plants for economic reasons. Among the many relevant examples of implicit language offered by L. S. Vygotsky are those taken from the Lev Tolstoy’s work about Anna Karenina in which the two protagonists talk each other through the initials of short phrases by which they remember their past events, common or not.3 To Vygotsky, this is typical of the dialogue between lovers. Likewise, Aharon’s very first mnemonic connection is mediated by the writing of his parents’, grandparents’ and uncles’ names on some little cardstock that he kept hidden into his coat pocket, in order to be able to recover them every time he needed, due to psychological reasons. Those written names offered him a real connection to his past life, to which he could always refer. This transition made him able to move out from silence and to start to build up a language through the imitation of the biblical one that suits him very much since it is absolutely essential and never redundant, useful to express himself synthetically, choosing the adequate words. To conclude our comments to L. S. Vygotsky, I refer to the ways in which his life was dominated by the research of a personal Spinozian synthesis that from his devotion to Jewish ideas, wants to reach universal human values, as is clear from his latest book completed on his deathbed. While in our commentary to L. S. Vygotsky we used the Bible language analysis offered by Appelfeld, with reference to B. Bernstein we use the distinction between the two codes, restricted and elaborated, which can be found in every community and which represent different ways of social integration of language within a society. Historically, societies present diverse structures of social organization which lead to control systems reflecting those structures. Within less literate and evolved societies, the concept of ritual is central for religious behaviour, which allows one to distinguish between what is legitimate and what is not in a given culture. Originally, the use of language is essentially based on oral discourse, characterized by face-to-face experiences. As the 3 This phrase ”Les Montagnes de la Suisse sont belles” was written in the form of a series of letters:”L mdl S sb” behind which there is the vague outline of a mountain range (see: Tolstoy, Anna Karenina, Part IV, chap. XIII).

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complexity of the division of labor increases, as in the case of ancient Jewish culture, there are individuals capable of using an elaborate language, based on universal principles and characterized by an out-of-context explicit discourse. Therefore, there is a pedagogical discourse lived as a symbolic system of conscious control that affects every form of even sociological knowledge acquisition. These themes concern the way the biblical narrative transmits Jewish people’s moral order and defines their identity as a people; in particular, the divine discourse includes the values and the sense of knowledge in the Jewish culture throughout the language between God and man, as a privileged path towards the knowledge that can then be transmitted from one generation to another. This raises the question about how the transmission relates to the type of knowledge that can be acquired by the members of the social community. The Jewish Bible is not a history book, as it does not offer an accurate account or a chronicle of events. The stories it tells do not happen meaninglessly or in a vacuum but presume the references to an ancient civilization, typical of the Jewish people of that time, whose leaders are mortal and fallible. Even Moses can be guilty of sin, thus he cannot access the promise land. Only God has the supreme power, He is the guardian of justice and owns the truth, even if a “Midrash,” which is an ancient interpretative tale that refers to creation, says that when He creates mankind the truth will come up from earth, a metaphor which gives value to mankind’s contribution. In the post-World War II period, the Jewish communities in England appear to present a distinction between orthodox and reformed people, the latter mainly from the middle class, whilst the orthodox communities include lower classes and are located in the East of London, and consider themselves more tied to traditional ways of cultural transmission. Bernstein perceives the marginalization of the minority group made up of English Jewish adolescent males, tied to rituals expressed through a restricted code; to that group he paid considerable educative and research attention, beginning with his very first job in a Jewish Settlement of London in 1960. There, the majority of community members belonged to the reformed synagogue. After this early phase of his studies, Bernstein underlines how social differences represent critical aspects of the human condition that are

Introduction

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responsible for the internalization of conceptual structures transmitted by gestures, rituals, objects, words, by everything which is permitted during feasts and everyday life. All that differentiates linguistic forms and ways of socialization. Though considering himself a member of a middle social class, this series of acts identified him as being influenced by the Jewish tradition. Gradually, the Victorian religious culture, which was considered an essential aspect of the English moralistic style, modifies itself through the secularization of a great part of Europe. With reference to Bernstein, since the very beginning of his theoretical writings, a close relationship between his biography and his theory is highlighted. His first employment was with young Jews, coming from a deprived social environment, speaking a simple language, which Bernstein called restricted code at a later stage, considering the mother as the primary source of knowledge and transmission, while education is the final purpose a human being can reach, and it must aim at mastering an elaborated code. Hence, his fundamental distinction between elaborated and restricted codes. He thus uses a symbolic way profoundly related to the Jewish tradition, which proceeds from a primary transmission operated by the mother to reach a final ideal—educative control of a complex linguistic code. The same objective can be found in L. S. Vygotsky, drawing on the traditional Jewish Seder, which underlines the transmission from one generation to another. Being Jewish in this scenario of the early twentieth century can mean being excluded from the chance of taking a relevant place in society. The contrast between reformed and orthodox Jewish people, who yet belonged to the same culture, offered Bernstein the example of a social class difference that can explain the reasons for the academic failure of children belonging to working and lower social classes due to the unequal distribution of knowledge in society. Judaism used to give much importance to the education of poor and the socially-culturally weak people in the name of social solidarity, which is frequently repeated in the Bible and in the synagogue prayers. Although he was not a Bible scholar, Bernstein was familiar with Jewish language, as well as biblical exegesis. For this reason he was later very influenced by Jewish scholars such as Durkheim, Sapir-Whorf, and Cassirer, as well as by Lurjia and L. S. Vygotsky as he says in the letter mentioned above.

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A Jewish inspiration can be found in the sacredness of the language through which God creates the world and all the creatures and by which mankind sets its relationship with God. Families represent a fundamental transmission agency, as well as an organic link to a community; they represent the first learning context for Jewish culture and for socialization. To Bernstein, common knowledge is transmitted within family, whilst scientific knowledge, as L. S. Vygostky also claims, is transmitted within school, the place of official pedagogy. In this first attempt to catch a connection with Judaism as an instructional aspect of Bernstein’s life, we have also given life to our attempt to catch some aspects of Judaism’s influence, which will give further developments at a later stage.

REFERENCES A.

Appelfeld, ed. The Language and the Silence, 2013. This publication was edited on the occasion of the XXI International Book Fair. Turin, 8-12 May 2008. Trad. by Prof. Elena Löwenthal.

Prelude to the Inquiry Antonella Castelnuovo

INTRODUCTION The present work aims at foregrounding the role played by the Jewish cultural heritage in the work of two famous scholars: Lev Semionovitch Vygotsky (1896-1934) and Basil Bernstein (1924-2000). This effort implies the exploration of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s respective work, highlighting aspects of their theories that reveal the significant influence of Jewish thinking and beliefs. The nature of our approach is to place Vygotsky and Bernstein within the frame of their socio-historical tradition, and to consider them as members of their Jewish cultural community. This effort will be carried out in the belief that theories and human life are dialectically interconnected. That which reveals something about a person can also provide a better understanding of the very nature of his/her theory. Therefore, before discussing in detail the oeuvres of Bernstein and Vygotsky in the light of our inquiry, we would like to test the hypothesis that Judaism influenced the ways of thinking of these two authors, as it provided the initial socio-historical conditions and transmitted the cultural humus under which they both lived, acted, and initially learned. Thus, this prelude will also explore the issues revolving around the shaping of the Jewish identity and what having Jewish roots means. This exploration should provide the background against which we will carry out our comparative study. In this opening section we wish to introduce the main themes of our study, defining them as a prelude to our inquiry. Our initial research question

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Prelude to the Inquiry

concerning the possibility of finding Jewish elements in the work of Vygotsky and Bernstein must be allowed to offer an answer as the text unfolds to the reader. The existence of Jewish elements in the lives and works of Vygotsky and Bernstein can be revealed in gradual steps. In fact, the unraveling of the themes, which may initially appear isolated, fragmented, or scattered, represent the fundamental preliminaries which must be meanigfully assembled like the tesserae of a mosaic, and only gradually may reveal their entire picture in understanding Vygotsky and Bernstein’s oeuvres. This brings us to use the word “prelude,” borrowing it from the Jewish historian Yerushalmi, who engaged in a similar quest in the search for Freud’s Jewish roots (Yerushalmi 1991). As in Yerushalmi’s case, we believe that our work should reveal itself as it unfolds. The linking of the works of the Russian psychologist Lev Semionovitch Vygotsky and the British sociologist Basil Bernstein is neither new nor farfetched. As they lived spatially and temporally apart, it is legitimate to ask what they share to encourage an exploration like the present one. At first sight the answer might well be “hardly anything.” Vygotsky was a psychologist born in Belarus, working from 1922-1934 in the USSR, while Bernstein was a sociologist born in London and worked from the 1960s until 2000 in Great Britain. Nevertheless, the letter which Bernstein wrote to Vygotsky’s widow after reading her husband’s work published in English in 1964,1 witnesses that these two authors were somehow linked by a strong mental affinity. At first, the fact that both scientists were Jewish may appear to offer little justification for joining them in a common inquiry, or for weaving different aspects of their biographies and their respective works together. As the concerns of human existence are often interconnected with the shape of a given theory, a representation of their works in light of each one’s cultural experience can enhance our understanding of their scholarly work. As both Vygotsky and Bernstein’s oeuvres are based on varied and multiform aspects, the identification of their common features, if any, allows to ask: what is the central common cultural element which typifies their respective endeavor? This question requires a set of detailed analysis of the two authors’

1

The full text of this letter is published here in chapter 6, page 000.

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3

entire ranges of work as well as the identification of significant aspects coming from their life experiences. Here we propose that the roots of their work may be traced to a common origin, that of the Jewish tradition. In so doing, we wish to enrich the understanding of their complex contributions in the fields of sociology and psychology in terms of a historical debt to their past. This factor may uncover an essential pre-condition—too often neglected or left in the dark—to a deep understanding of their intellectual oeuvres. Indeed, cultural effects on writers’ works are shaped by many forces (religious, ethnic, social) which are constantly at work. These forces can be understood in terms of cultural history, expanding in concentric circles. Starting with the immediate circumstances of the writer’s existence (the context where the individual is born), leading to formative years in contact with “significant others” (peers, teachers, mentors), finally reaching the broad surrounding socio-cultural environment within which every individual is placed, in time and space. Religion and ethnicity represent two of these forces, more closely linked to one’s immediate community, creating learning mediated by one’s group of origin. In this way, the role of a writer’s creative endeavor may often reveal an existential dialectic. This is represented by the shifts between the factual “givenness,” the imposed facts of the writer’s immediate surrounding background, and his/her individual possibilities, expressing creativity and freedom to transcend the given. If one accepts this paradigm, based on Heidegger’s view of existence (Heidegger 1971: 81), the shaping of human life is constantly formed through the relationship between past and future, representing the given and new possibilities (Sagi 2011: 45). Thus, a study of biography of ideas as well as of biography tout court, implies the analysis of the relevant spheres of experiences in which writers lived and interrelated. The status of Judaism as a source of inspiration for Vygotsky and Bernstein involves a process of circularity. It may be derived from their concrete lifestyles and experiences acquired through a dialectic with the surroundings, which brought them to transcended their original tradition. Nevertheless, even in this case, their new endeavor might not be completly detached from their cultural origins which often persisted despite the acquisition of new socio-cultural features. Thus, the task to re-connect Vygotsky

4

Prelude to the Inquiry

and Bernstein to parts of their Jewish tradition must not be disjuncted from their overall theoretical visions as the two are dialectically related. In this light, the Jewish experience in Vygotsky and Bernstein’s lives cannot be denied, but it is certainly not univocal, as interlinked to the variety of other influences which affected their existences. At the same time, as both Vygotsky and Bernstein’s pasts originated from Judaism, this faith is bound to have given a critical significant dimension to their respective works and to the quality of their experiences. However, which aspects of Judaism represent the significant features common to both? Also, which type of Judaism had Vygotsky and Bernstein been exposed to, enabling one to claim that it had an influence on their respective work? Judaism outside of the land of Israel is not a cohesive cultural framework. It can be viewed as a specific, specialized, and pervasive cultural perspective resulting in certain forms of behavior directly recognized as legitimate by the Jewish community. Conversely, it may be viewed as one of the many cultural forces operating within an open modern and secular society. In this case it will shape the individual in a more peripheral way, according to the degree of his/her Jewish communal acceptability (assimilated Jews, secular Jews, converts, etc). Furthermore, the Jewish ethos is not always identified tout court with the Jewish religion, as many secular Jews display their Jewish essence with no faith in the Jewish God, as in the case of Freud. However, the dependence of Jewish existence on the religious element has a priority in Jewish culture, as Judaism’s principles are based on a way of conduct within the domain of everyday life practices and behavior. Often, when this religious element is not willingly acknowledged, it may be disguised by a diffuse sense of religiosity and a feeling of belonging, as revealed by the literary work of many modern Jewish writers, such as Primo Levi and Natalia Ginzburg (Parussa 2011). Moreover, historically, secularization in Judaism occurred only recently in comparison to other European religions. Therefore, the process of detachment from the Jewish faith still carries a different meaning when compared to secularization of other creeds. These are the grounds which sustain our inquiry in the claim that Judaism, directly or indirectly, has inspired the works of Vygotsky and

Prelude to the Inquiry

5

Bernstein. This assumption must of course be substantiated by empirical proof, which can be sought out both externally, in their lives, as well as internally in their works. As a premises to our exposition we shall first highlight why we have chosen to explore the Jewish element in explaining Vygotsky and Bernstein’s similarity of ideas. Secondly, we shall base our enterprise on a socio-historical and sociocultural method. In so doing we shall contextualize Vygotsky and Bernstein with their works within the Western Jewish milieu in which they lived and operated. We believe that these historical conditions are demonstrably relevant to the study of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s personal lives. Finally, in the unfolding of our hypothesis, we shall attempt to bring evidence to the elements of their works which may have originated from their Jewish tradition.

THE RATIONALE FOR THE COMPARISON The decision to use Vygotsky and Bernstein’s theories as models for our comparison originates first and foremost from our interest in socio-cultural studies and human discourse. Such interest led us to realize that these theories are both compatible and also to a large extent complementary. Complementarity implies that in some respects, one theory provides elements lacking in the other, and this becomes a highly enriching factor. Vygotsky and Bernstein do not pull us in different directions, but rather analyze social phenomena from complementary angles and different perspectives in a way that can be mutually connected. Comparative analysis of the two theories have recently been published by Daniels (2001) and Hasan (1999; 2005), confirming the deep and significant relations between them. In introducing our subsequent discussion, we wish to take into consideration the similarities between the two theories. As a start, we will focus on the fact that both Vygotsky’s cultural-historical theory and Bernstein’s theory of codes are made up of complex and different propositions, developed in different stages over time. Despite this fact, they have remained consistent through the years in their deep significance. These elements, in our opinion, could be adduced to factors in the two thinkers’

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Prelude to the Inquiry

backgrounds which typified their intellectual developments leading to their consistent productions. Yet, some aspects of their theoretical perspectives seem to respond to forces from their common Jewish heritage. But what are the forces which could be defined as Jewish, distinguished from the more secular ones? The discovery and the analysis of them is precisely the aim of the present work, attempting to relate the biblical meanings and Jewish texts to the aspects of Vygotsky and Bernstein which seem to more clearly typify the Jewish tradition. The Jewish influence as a priori belief may be disputable on the grounds that specific aspects of their respective approaches stem from common and diversified influences deriving from secular scholars of the Western tradition. Vygotsky and Bernstein have often acknowledged their intellectual debts to these scholars. Thinkers such as Mead, Marx, and Durkheim have similarly influenced Vygotsky and Bernstein. Others, such as James, Whorf, Cassirer, Kant, Spinoza, Firth, Halliday, and Hasan, affected their respective disciplinary fields of psychology and sociolinguistics. In all cases, with no doubt, those authors have initially provided a scientific platform from which to develop and depart. Indisputably, science, knowledge, and their advancement can merge to the fore thanks to one’s mentors, reminding us of Newton’s aphorism: “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants” (Merton 1993: 1). However, when knowledge production appears to be interwined with socio-cultural experiences, implying history, motives, purposes, and worldviews, progression does not necessarily follow the same rules applicable in the fields of hard science (Berlin 1997: 332). In scientific productions, knowledge is generally conceived as a temporalized advancement leading to more accurate findings in certain fields of thought (mathematics, physics, astronomy, medicine, etc.) based on axioms, rational rules, and irrefutable conclusions. In constrast, the concept of knowledge as a social fact is sought to show the influence of social existential factors upon mental productions (Merton 1973). This in the attempt to bridge the dual opposition between social versus rational.2 2 The dualism was inherited from the Greek philosophical tradition to early Christianity and on into the culture of seventeenth-century English empiricism and nineteenth-century high romanticism (Shapin 1991a).

Prelude to the Inquiry

7

The Cartesian opposition was first envisaged by the eighteenth-century Italian philosopher Giambattista Vico (1668-1744). As founder of the historical method, Vico claimed that the world of human experience, being by definition unequal and differentiated, arises out of the historical conditions of life. He claimed that “true” knowledge, characterized by progression is not equal to absolute knowledge. Rather, we come to “know” something not only because we know what it is but because we construct it. Vico established the differentiation between humanities and science, as he posited the fundamental question of the disobjectivation of knowledge, raised also by Socratic dialectic. It refers to the understanding of modes of thought as ways of life in their dynamic “open” forms and not to studying them as finished products (Kozulin 1990). In this perspective, one must account for the succession and variety of men’s experiences and their transformation from one culture to another. Thus, historical understanding of any culture is necessarily dialectic, as the nature of human consciousness and that of any system of conscious representation is dialectical. We are approaching Vygotsky and Bernstein’s work with this historical perspective, implying that their socio-cultural positions as Jews in a secular environment may have created in them the special conditions for developing a particular way of thinking. In this respect, they may have focused on orders of relevance which are not universal, but culturally and historically specific, organized around meanings stemming from their Jewish consciousness and experience. Despite the multiplicity of other influences encountered in the course of their lives, it should be acknowledged that for Vygotsky and Bernstein Judaism was the initial basic cultural fact in their existence. This was an a priori cultural force that included association with a common past conceived in terms of collective memories, rituals, ways of saying and modes of thinking common to Judaism and to the Jewish communities. Historically, Jews in Diaspora have been constantly interacting with different diversified cultures, in ancient as well as in modern time (Zeitlin 2012). Therefore, Western environmental experiences are certainly not dissonant with Judaism. For this reason, Judaism cannot be conceived as a monolithical religious culture, as from its very beginning many influences have been internally absorbed to contribute to its totality. Thus, it can be claimed

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that while Judaism is the privileged possession of the people of Israel, at the same time its values are also available to others. As no one culture is an underivative product of history, specific features of the Jewish religious culture can be recognizable within the Western tradition at large. Similarly, the affirmation of Jewish values could be shared, to some extent, also with people whose existence is connected, directly or indirectly, to the influx of the Jewish tradition. Despite the various conditions for Jews living in Diaspora, they shared a common element in the shaping of their identity: the effort of bridging across Jewish and more secular values expressed by lifestyles in society at large. The process of balancing between these two elements may lead to a final product which will always be a highly subjective and personal endeavor mediated by the aspects of one’s personality. We will now attempt to provide a few examples of the characteristics of this process illustrated through some aspects of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s work. In many ways, Vygotsky and Bernstein have both detached themselves from the traditional approaches of psychology and sociolinguistics held by their contemporaries in their respective fields. In this respect, both authors were very much concerned with the cultural and the social levels of analysis in their investigation of human development. In their study of man they both went beyond an individualistic dimension, embracing the collective social environment as a whole. The denaturalization of the human condition as a socially determined one stemmed from Durkheim’s idea of social representations as he inspired both Vygotsky and Bernstein. As in Judaism collectivism supersedes individualism, Durkheim’s ideas also stem from his Jewish tradition (Strenski 1997). Jewish norms and precepts are oriented to achieve a better community through rationality and self-control as privileged achievements of man. We also acknowledge that Vygotsky and Bernstein, by indicating paths of developments in the lives of groups and individuals, were both concerned with social relations, language, and thinking as key concepts which characterize the specific features of their theoretical projects. In both their views, development was the transformation of man from the biological into socially constructed collective forces consisting primarily in social interactions, produced in the process of social living. It is through the medium of language and its meaning

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that both Bernstein and Vygotsky conceived the origin of consciousness. This construction constituted the main theme of their inquiry, and for both of them consciousness resulted from acts of semiosis. For Vygotsky, this is a generally shared process created by the use of abstract tools and signs, among which language has a priority. As for Bernstein, language is a tool for semiotic mediation, but it subjects the way in which social structure is mediated within the specific social context of interaction. In their beliefs, Vygotsky and Bernstein both re-traced the Jewish principle whereby human consciousness has a semantic layout as in Judaism dialogue is what bridges between humans and the Divine. The Jewish God expresses Himself through words. Other aspects of their theories present a number of points of mutual integration. Bernstein was interested in the process of cultural transmission, but did not focus widely on the process of acquisition. As for Vygotsky, acquisition was considered the main object of his theoretical and empirical inquiry. Both of them produced major methodological changes on their theoretical programs, which, however, were bound to remain incomplete in many ways. For example, while both theorists assigned a central place to the formation of consciousness, only Bernstein developed a detailed, explicit statement of strategies for diversification in that analysis. He contextualized the child within its community highlighting social variations as significant features of his sociolinguistic principles. By contrast, Vygotsky dealt specifically with concepts such as language and cognition, making possible the understanding of different modes of thought as part of the same developmental system. As it were, each narrative addresses the conditions of human life from its particular disciplinary perspective. Woven together, they may provide a more complete vision of man in society. In their theories, human experiences were explored through several domains (psychological, sociological, linguistic, and semiotic) to conceptualize the dynamic relationship between individual behaviour and society. From this point of view we can say that Bernstein’s work begins where Vygotsky’s leaves off. The former provided us with concepts that deal with contextual specificity, adding macro levels and contextual specification to Vygotsky’s notions, based predominantly on micro encounters. On the account that both Vygotsky and Bernstein attempted to show how the social, the semiotic, and the mental

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dimensions are always interrelated, Hasan defined their theories as exothropic (2005: 10-11) based on a “dynamic open system” (Lemke 1984). In fact, as they describe the multiple aspects of society designed for living, they leave the possibility open to other theories to change and be changed by engaging in meta-dialogue (Hasan 2005: 51). Meta-dialogue is allowed as both Vygotsky and Bernstein created humanistic and relational theories, which are interdisciplinary and multilayered. Jews in Diaspora also engaged in meta-dialogues with surrounding host societies, often borrowing elements of their cultures without renouncing the fundamental traits of their own tradition.3 On similar grounds, internal to Judaism, the exegetic tradition was based on a collective “open system” stemming from continuous oral discussions and debates between scholars who tried to assign new meanings to biblical precepts by means of ongoing dialogue in their own time and over generations. Despite their inevitable differences in focus, both Bernstein and Vygotsky made a number of significant modifications to their initial starting points in the course of their works, which led them to be defined as ongoing “work in progress.” At the heart of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s theoretical knowledge there is no adherence to a descriptive reality, but rather a search for a not-yetattained truth to be discovered by rationality and refinements of analytical instruments. Their knowledge, as well as their concepts, were not displayed once and for all; rather they moved dynamically through the refinements of their instrumental tools. Further differentiation is what led them to the progression of truth. The mode of knowledge as an ongoing production represents the intellectual position of the main founders of the American pragmatic philosophical movements such as Charles Sanders Pierce, William James, John Dewey, and George Herbert Mead. They all believed that to obtain knowledge implies an ongoing revision and continuous reconstruction of one’s analytical tools. Most of these scholars were the forerunners of our two authors. In the evidence of common traits between the two theories, it is legitimate to inquire into the domain of Judaism, as we are trying to re-connect Vygotsky and Bernstein to a cultural experience belonging to both. 3 In Italy for instance, where the Jews settled earlier and longer than elsewhere in Europe, dialects were developed which were a mixture between Hebrew and the local language spoken in the regions where they lived.

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We will then try to re-establish contact with a formative part of Bernstein and Vygotsky, in the attempt to demonstrate that our two authors have been connected to Judaism in a way which is inseparable from the foundations of their respective works. To provide an initial exemplary equation with Judaism, we must first of all clarify how we define the latter, as it can be considered philosophically, theologically, mystically or from a humanistic point of view. Judaism is a form of humanism with man at the center of creation whose task is to continue God’s incomplete endeavor. In view of the Jewish tradition biblical creation has not been fully accomplished; thus man’s contribution is vital for accomplishing God’s will on earth (Heschel 1951). In this context, Judaism is considered a way of life expressed in a religious system, mainly synchronic, with practices which have remained stable for a long time (Goldberg 2010). In particular, Jewish values are predicated in a specific form of transmission, aiming to activate highly specific competences and functions in its believers. Jewish cultural transmission, mediated by rituals, knowledge, and language, is based on the role of active memory whereby Jewish festivities are recalled by rites celebrating Judaism’s crucial past events. As in Judaism memory and the act of remembering are very strong devices to fixate models and meanings, it is mainly on these aspects that we rely in assuming that strong or reminiscent traces of Jewish meanings must have been internalized by Vygotsky and Bernstein. Having been brought up within Jewish families, their upbringing most probably provided the two authors with special tools and conditions for orienting them towards specific ways of living and thinking. Furthermore, Judaism places a strong emphasis on a unitary, systemic, multilayered view of man and his actions. This approach is envisaged in all aspects of human life, cohesively linked together in the observance of Jewish precepts. Systematization is also an essential condition of well-formed theoretical works which require unitary cohesion between and within their parts. In this respect, Vygotsky and Bernstein’s theories are “systemic” as they deal with multiple interrelated units and systems in describing the human condition. However, their expository styles are not identical in linking the multiple aspects of their respective theories.

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Isaiah Berlin distinguishes different modes of thinking in many distinguished scholars and writers. He equates centripetal thinkers to hedgehogs, centrifugal to foxes. He also acknowledges that these distinctions are not clear cut in regard to the precence of degrees, “more or less,” of the two characteristics. Vygotsky appears to be amore of a “centripetal” thinker, meant “to relate everything to a single central vision, one system, more or less coherent or articulate” (Berlin 1998: 436). On the contrary Bernstein seems to be more of a “centrifugal” thinker, defined by Berlin as a way of thinking”scattered or diffused, moving on many levels, seizing upon the essence of a vast variety of experiences and objects for what they are in themselves, without[..] seeking to fit them into multilevel self contradictory and incomplete experiences”. (Berlin 1998: 436). While Vygotsky addresses one basic question in reflecting on his fundamental problem of the origin of consciousness, making him a kind of “hedgehog,” Bernstein addresses many different questions in trying to explore the same problem, which makes him a kind of “fox” in Berlin’s definition. Despite their differences in conceptual styles, both authors aimed at providing a unitary vision of man within society, fully in line with the unitary, systemic, multi-layered view of man and his actions. Both Vygotsky and Bernstein pursued a unitary underlying principle for pondering the questions of the human condition, situated in social contexts, similarly envisaged by Judaism, connecting man with all organic and inorganic matter. In the history of ideas, this belief is not a trivial one, as it arouses a profound philosophical debate, as acknowledged by Isaiah Berlin, who wrote: There exists a great chasm between those, on one side, who relate everything to a single central vision, one system, less or more coherent and articulate, in terms of which they understand, think and feel—a single, universal, organizing principle in terms of which all that they are and say has significance—and, on the other side, those who pursue many ends, often unrelated and even contradictory, connected, if at all, only in some de facto way, for some psychological or physiological cause, related to no moral or aestetic principle. (Berlin 1998: 436)

The great majority of Western thinkers displayed a “nonunitarian” side identified by Berlin (Boteach 2012: 40).4 4 Most Western philosophers, such as Locke, Hobbes, Rousseau, and more recently Hegel, envisage the human condition in terms of a dualistic vision.

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In sum, both theories can be conceived as being capable of addressing and reflecting on internal and external dimensions, providing humans with means to act upon the social environment in order to transform biological organisms into socio-cultural ones. This process is achieved through education by means of tools, with speech being the most suitable to lead to the development of mental activity. This is certainly a similar path as that envisioned by Jewish humanism. The book of Torah represents, over and above all, a book of teaching and a way of learning where Jews should transcend their human nature in the achievement of spiritual and rational goals in the imitation of God. In the light of this brief account of Judaism and its principles, how can we claim that their concepts and modes of expressions are more directly linked to Judaism than to other traditions? The relevance of Judaism to the works of Vygotsky and Bernstein is not obvious. For this reason, we will attempt to establish grounds to claim the presence of Jewish sources in their thinking by bringing to light certain aspects that seem never to have been noticed before. Our research, in the last instance, addresses the issue of consciousness and, in particular, the possibility of describing the features of a Jewish consciousness based on the existence of specific human values and purposes. On this issue we attempt to suggest that similarities between the two authors are not coincidental nor fortuitous. Socio-cultural knowledge presupposes not only a similar “way of thinking,” but, foremost, a shared “way of experience” that is practical rather than simply theoretical. This initial syntethic parallel between some aspects of Bernstein and Vygotsky’s theories and basic Judaism provides some grounds for pursuing our search for the Jewish roots in the working experience of these two authors. Obviously, there will be some differences in Bernstein and Vygotsky’s critical perspective of man and society as within their respective frameworks. These differences are certainly due to the different environments in which Vygotsky and Bernstein worked and lived. For instance, while Vygotsky conceives the mediation of consciousness through society as it is, Bernstein provides a more sophisticated analysis by distinguishing different modes of transmission within the same society leading to different forms of consciousness. Surely, how could it have been possible for Vygotsky as a Marxist to criticize

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society conceived as a perfect life model? Certainly social criticism was more legitimate for Bernstein, living in a liberal society where freedom of expression and pluralistic political views existed. Furthermore, Vygotsky’s work was socio-historical, stemming from the Marxist tradition and mirroring the Russian intellectual world in which he lived and worked. As the link between history and psychology was very important to him, he held a synchronic and diachronic approach. In his opinion, higher mental functions resulted from the internalization of cultural means regulating human behaviour. As socially organized activities change continously in time and space, psychological activities too change with respect to different cultures. According to him, in fact, higher mental functions resulted from the internalization of cultural means regulating human behaviour. As socially organized activities change continuously in time and space, psychological activities change too with respect to different cultures. On the contrary, Bernstein’s understanding of the socio-cultural dimension appears to be predominantly synchronic. His social class analysis does not provide an effective framing of the sociohistorical, linked to the conditions of Great Britain at the time. Thus, Bernstein’s code theory does not allow for assessing diachronic differences in societies outside Great Britain. Undoubtedly, our enterprise will present some difficulties in the task of selecting and defining elements which belong to one sphere rather than to the other. This process is further complicated by the fact that we refer to two authors rather than a single one. This is undeniably more challenging because a dual perspective allows for the creation of a wider framework of observation, as the two authors, being complementary, can provide a richer and unique spectrum for our analysis. *** Our work will be divided into three main parts, with chapters referring as follows: 1. Judaism and Jews in Diaspora.

Chapter One briefly introduces the relationship between Jews and science at the beginning of the twentieth century. This topic opens up our methodological inquiry by highlighting the relationship between new social

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sciences, and the transformation of Jewish identity in a secular modern world. Chapter Two introduces general concepts referring to Jews in Diaspora in terms of the relevance to the two authors’ socio-cultural backgrounds. Chapter Three provides a concise account of the basic unifying principles of Judaism connected with cultural transmission and education. These topics are of fundamental importance in the comparison with Vygotsky and Bernstein, as their works are theories of cultural transmission that deal with learning and education. 2. Biographies of life and of ideas.

Chapter Four deals with Vygotsky’s biography, concerning the early years of his life. Chapter Five concerns the later years of his production. Chapter Six deals with Bernstein’s biography of ideas with reference to his social background. Chapter Seven is an exegetic interpretation of Bernstein’s key concepts compared to Jewish values and principles. 3. Implementation and epilogue.

Chapter Eight highlights a parallel between Bernstein’s theory of codes and the way in which it can be linked to biblical discourse, interpreted within the tradition of Judaism. Chapter Nine, the epilogue, delineates a deeper understanding of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s works, placed within the context of their Jewish traditions. While this book is the result of the mutual support and continous cooperation between the authors, the prelude, Chapter One, Two, Five, Six and seven are to be attributed to Antonella Castelnuovo. Chapters Three and Four to Bella Kotik-Friedgut. Chapters One and Eight and the epilogue are the result of a common endeavor.

CHAPTER 1

Jews in Scientific Professions: A Quest for a Methodological Inquiry Antonella Castelnuovo, Bella Kotik-Friedgut1

A

s a start to our inquiry, we wish to provide a brief look at the presence of  Jews in the modern scientific professions, a phenomenon which started in Europe in the mid-nineteenth century.

1 Section 1.1 of this chapter is by Bella Kotik-Friedgut. The other sections are by Antonella Castelnuovo.

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The relationship between Jews and modern science is a very complex process presenting multiple facets of the social, political, and economic spheres. For us, this topic represents, albeit indirectly, one of the basic issues of our inquiry, as it permits outlining the historical antecedents of the circumstances under which Vygotsky and Bernstein produced their respective works. These authors are conceived as two particular case studies, contextualized within their respective countries and within the historical problematic of their time. Hopefully, our analysis of these two examples will shed some light on the more general and complex issue of the relation between Jews and science. In outlining this topic, we take a socio-historical and socio-cultural perspective, assuming a causal link between modernization, the transformation of the Jewish identity, and the attraction of emancipated Jews to the new intellectual spheres such as those of scientific professions. While we are fully aware that many other perspectives may be equally valid for the understanding of this topic, this approach will provide useful guidelines for the method of investigation applied to the work of Vygotsky and Bernstein.

1.1  JEWS AND MODERNITY To begin the contextualization of our two authors we must place them within the social and intellectual environment of the twentieth century, in which both of them matured and created. Notwithstanding the fact that Vygotsky was educated and worked in Russia in the first third of the century and Bernstein grew up and worked in England in the last third of the century, we will show that both were subject to similar cultural and intellectual influences. The effects of modernization, which, as we will later discuss in detail, reached a peak with increasing intensity from the mid-nineteenth century to the end of the twentieth century, affected in very different degrees almost the entire globe. First it was led by Western Europe, later by the United States, progressively affecting both Eastern Europe and later Asia and even reaching into Africa. First radio, then television and mass travel from the 1960s on, and finally the advent of computers, crowned by the internet, made examples of modernity easily available to almost everyone in the world, for better or for worse. By the end of the

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twentieth century, modernization had become a near-universal phenomenon, as a fact of life or as an aspiration. The “global village” envisioned by Marshall McLuhan (1969)2 was clearly taking shape, diminishing, though as yet unable to eliminate the differences between East and West, North and South. We will examine below the characteristics of modernization that brought Yuri Slezkine, observing the participation of Jews in Eastern and Western Europe as well as America and the rapid advance of modernization throughout the twentieth century, called it “the Jewish century” (Slezkine 2004: 1). Slezkine, in his definitions, focused not only on the social and intellectual processes affecting the Jews, but also, perhaps primarily, on the changes in the majority societies. Slezkine writes that the Jews became the chosen people of the twentieth century, referring to their extraordinary prominence in so many fields of science and culture during this period, by becoming the models of modernity (41). That is, they became urban, literate, open to secular knowledge, physically and occupationally mobile, and acquired a whole train of other traits. It follows then, that modernization, particularly its peak in the twentieth century, “is about everyone becoming Jewish” (1). No less important than the fact of modernity was its ubiquitous spirit, the striving to advance toward it. In Western Europe and North America, modernization was characterized and fuelled by industrialization, urbanization, huge advances in physical mobility, both human and of materials and goods, and the speedy communication of ideas and every sort of information. In Eastern Europe, most notably in the Soviet Union, and in Asia, e.g. China from the 1911 revolution on, it was a process both the same and different in that the roots of modernization were in violent social revolutions that resulted in a state-directed high speed, high cost (both materially and in human terms) modernization. Despite these differences in origin, the consequences of modernization were very similar— urbanization, physical and occupational mobility, education, and a growing stream of information reaching a larger percentage of the population. Moreover, whether we examine Germany, England, the United States, or the Soviet Union, the prominent role of Jews in the country’s modernization is much the same. Vygotsky worked in the dynamically innovative atmosphere of the immediate post-revolutionary Soviet Union, a period during which science 2

The book was originally published in Canada in 1962.

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was given high priority socially, politically and economically. Bernstein’s period of scientific activity was post-World War II, post-Imperial England, when Great Britain was essentially trying desperately to reinvent itself as a society, a period of rapid reordering of social and intellectual values. Scientific achievements during the war, such as the development of radar and the Turing group’s cracking of the German military codes, had made science prominent, while military and colonial administration and the traditional aristocracy dropped sharply in status. In the United States, a modest immigration during the early and mid-nineteenth century laid the basis for the mass immigration, from the 1880s to the beginning of World War I, that changed America totally. At that time, the United States was a scientific backwater, and those seeking advanced knowledge in natural sciences went to Europe for their educations (Efron 2007: 176). Jews were not outstanding in any branch of science, save perhaps medicine, as stated by Joseph Jacobs (quoted in Efron 2007: 5). In Europe, particularly in Germany, as a result of the growing demand for scientists and engineers in the country’s burgeoning industries, Jews were increasingly found at this time in the natural science and engineering faculties, first as teachers and then as students, and even earlier had in disproportionate numbers entered the faculties of law and medicine of the best German universities (171). In the first decades of the twentieth century, these students, as graduates, became prominent in their fields. How can we account for such a development? Why are Jews in the front rank in these modernizations? Early urbanization, an accumulation of entrepreneurial skills and a culture of learning appear to be among the core factors in this development, in both Europe and America. Until the Middle Ages, in Spain, France, the Germanic principalities in post-exilic Palestine, and other countries of Western Europe, the majority of Jews, like the majority of the world’s population, lived by agriculture. The Jews, however, were eternal “internal strangers,” their crime being “their rejection of a Jewish apostate from Judaism” (Slezkine 2004: 40). As the feudal authorities more and more followed the lead of Catholic law in Italy and denied the Jews the right to own land, to live in villages, and even to occupy themselves in agriculture, they were forced to turn to various entrepreneurial occupations and to live together in towns. However, these occupations demanded knowledge of reading, writing in the

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language of the country for commercial operations, and arithmetic for accounting. All of these were necessary to anyone wishing to engage in mercantile operations. This history was to have considerable significance for the Jewish migrations of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, both to America and to the metropolitan centers of the Soviet Union. It meant that Jews arrived with a tradition of entrepreneurship that implied flexibility and occupational mobility, literate and acculturated to urban environments. This gave them a solid head start before the mass of peasants who made up much of the immigration. Jews tended to congregate in the large metropolitan centers that were the hubs of innovation and were thus on hand and well equipped to participate in the development of modern cultures. One perhaps surprising illustration of this phenomenon is the fact that in 1920, no less than one third of New York City’s population was Jewish (Hollinger 1996: 19). In similar fashion, large concentrations of the Soviet Union’s Jews were to be found, particularly from the mid-1920s, in the rapidly growing urban industrial centers. At the same time, the Jews brought with them their traditions of learning. Throughout the Diaspora, traditional Jewish learning was carried on in religious frameworks, and it included the consideration of nature and its elements as constant and universal portions of creation. To understand the laws of nature was, wherever traditional Jewish learning was practiced, part of the quest to understand creation (Efron 2007: 9). No less important than the scope of studies was their method. Traditional Jewish learning focused on the study of sacred texts, but was not limited to learning the texts alone. To the texts themselves was added the study of commentaries by sages, expanding these texts. The final culmination of learning was the cultivation of an inquisitive search for hidden nuances, the discovery of a new significance to an apparently simple statement, a new exegesis, broadening the applicability of a familiar commandment. This method, internalized and refined over generations, was to become an element in the thinking of many future Jewish scientists who left the yeshiva for the laboratory. Urbanization spread literacy in the European languages among the Jews, a quality that made them useful to the authorities in administering estates and affairs of state as well as preparing them for their future leap into the modern world. The building of communities in close contact with the majority, though always separate from it, gave birth to the tendency toward secularization.

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Hitherto, the Jewish reaction to the Christian majority had been a hedgehoglike withdrawal from any contact with “foreign” society and culture, sometimes imposed from without, sometimes initiated from within the Jewish community. In the eighteenth century in Germany and a century later in Russia, three hundred years after Protestantism had introduced many of the same principles into the Catholic world, the Jewish Enlightenment began its battle for Jewish integration into the majority culture on the basis of equality of rights. This was to be accomplished through knowledge of the majority language and acceptance of freedom of belief as a private, individual matter. This “privatization of religion” through its withdrawal from the public sphere and restriction to the community of religious belief was to be an important twentieth-century Jewish contribution to American culture, reinforcing the original constitutional ban on establishment of any church (Hollinger 1996: 30-31). Across Europe, the influence of the Jewish Enlightenment was accompanied by the introduction of Reform Judaism, adding to the intra-communal tensions brought by the turn towards secular forms in everyday life. This process was a parallel to the political and social turmoil that characterized Europe through the nineteenth century and found its ultimate expression in the twentieth century.3 Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the Enlightenment principles of learning on a broad basis, equality of minority communities and their integration with the majority and their separation of the sacred and secular spread throughout Europe. Of course, in each country or region the influence of the German Enlightenment varied in accordance with the nature of the majority society and the state of development of the Jewish community. In addition, it is of some importance to see which trends of Enlightenment were influential in the various countries (Endelman 1987: 230). In England, according to Endelman’s account, Jewish integration into English society, both upper class and in the poorer strata, was well established even before the German Enlightenment became active and proceeded with only marginal influences from the German Jewish Enlightenment. The early industrialization and the “enclosure movement” had hastened the development of England’s cities and they had a better-rooted, more open nature than did the cities of more backward countries and regions in 3

See Todd Endelman 1987: 225-26. See also Slezkine 2004: 1.

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which old regime nobility and feudal remnants in society hardened inter-class and inter-ethnic or interreligious boundaries. Endelman specifically mentions the intimate closeness of life between lower class non-Jews and Jewish immigrants to London’s East End, beginning early in the eighteenth century, before the German Enlightenment was born, and continuing steadily into the mid-twentieth century (227-28). Such integration was to be of special importance to Bernstein in his academic work on the class codes enfolded in speech patterns. Bernstein’s parents (the father an immigrant from Russia, the mother English-born from a Sephardic Jewish family, her grandparents having come to England from Holland) settled in the East End of London, and Bernstein grew up as an English speaker in this milieu. In considerable contrast, even among Jewish and Russian radical intelligentsia in late-nineteenth-century Odessa, where openness to Jewish civic integration was greater than in any other part of the Russian Empire, there was little social contact between Jews and Russians (Zipperstein 1985: 20, 106).4 Vygotsky, who was literally a child of the Enlightenment, since his father was head of the local branch of the Society for Dissemination of Enlightenment Among the Jews of Russia, grew up believing in principles of integration, but appears to have had little or no social or intellectual contact with non-Jews until he went to Moscow from Gomel’, where he had lived since infancy, to attend university. This was a result of the hostility and closed nature of the Russian society almost universally throughout the Russian Empire. Secularization was a crucial part of modernization, not in the sense of the abandonment of religion, but in the sense of the retreat of religion from the public and state to the personal sphere. Secularization is not consonant here with assimilation—the abandonment of identity, but with acculturation, the adoption of accepted majority cultural forms over the internalized personal identity.5 In these terms, both Vygotsky and Bernstein are prime examples. Essentially, secularization is the replacement of faith by reason as 4

See also Mandelkern 2014. Mandelkern’s memoir contains a graphic description of the intellectual and social abyss separating Jewish and Russian society at all levels. 5 For a detailed discussion of the particularities of Jewish assimilation into majority societies and the connection between Jewish assimilation and the modernization of Jewish society and most particularly its emancipation within the majority society, see Amos Morris-Reich, The Quest for Jewish Assimilation in Modern Social Science (New York: Routledge, 2008), 7-11.

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the central operational feature of life. Both Bernstein and Vygotsky received a secular education, and not the Orthodox Jewish religious education that dominated in Russia at the time and was practiced widely in Jewish communities in England, though to a much lesser extent than in Russia. Bernstein was educated in British schools and Vygotsky in a liberal home education and later in a gimnasiia, run by Jews and with a Jewish student body, but offering a secular curriculum of history, literature, sciences, and languages. Both, however, were familiar with Jewish rituals and traditions and both chose to marry Jewish spouses. Central to both of them, however, was the use of their knowledge and experience in Judaism as a tool of inquiry rather than as a determinant of lifestyle or identity. To sum up, we have seen the modernization of Jewish communities proceeding in different ways and at different times across the Western world. Nevertheless, the twentieth century provides us with numerous instances of being “the Jewish century,” both in Slezkine’s meaning and in the sense that Jews gained prominence out of all proportion to their numbers within the majority. Both Bernstein and Vygotsky rode the wave of Jewish literacy, urban status and secular acculturation and a Jewish culture of inquisitive learning, the search for hidden meanings and universal truths with which to further the modernization of the human race.

1.2  JEWS AND SCIENCE IN A SOCIO-CULTURAL PERSPECTIVE The important role played by Jews in contemporary science should not be explained in univocal terms, as reasons for its outcome are multiple and diversified. At the turn of the century, distinguished authors such as Max Weber, Robert Merton, and Benjamin Nelson (1981) believed that the growth of modern Western science should be better understood through a differential and comparative analysis with other geographically and culturally contiguous cultures (quoted in Efron 1997). When Jewish visibility started to be acknowledged in Europe from the mid-nineteenth century, Jews became ideal “case studies” to be framed for being “geographically and culturally contiguous.” It is certainly true that the new visibility of Jews in society and in scientific domains coincided with the time when Western science was constituting itself. This fact provided a

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renewed interest in Jews as a group, and they became at the same time objects and subjects for new sociological inquiry. Through the process of emancipation, assimilation, and integration, which explained the fundamental changes of European Jewry at the turn of the century, Jews participated as subjects in the new sciences. In so doing, they witnessed the fact that “modernity” had dramatically transformed them, both mentally and physically in their dressing and external outlook. At the same time, Jewish social science emerged as a response to a renovated Jewish collective identity, often eliciting the question, “what are the Jews”? The response to this query was often provided in terms of a new focus on the contemporary conditions of Jewry. Jewish scientists shifted interest from religion and philosophy to demography, economy, and systems of social organization (Hart 2000: 4). Despite the ferment within the Jewish intellectual world, one fact should be made clear: the process of modernity, continuing to grow through the twentieth century, was not initiated by Jews. The creation of modernity was not a Jewish affair: Jews entered into the new era in a later period, missing some of its significant steps such as the scientific revolution and industrialization (Slezkine 2004: 64). For sure, Jews adapted to modernity better than anyone else, but this process did not take place all at once or by chance. It occurred very slowly, starting from the period of emancipation, continuing until the 1950s. In contrast, the entering of Jews into scientific professions was very quick and disproportionate in number when compared to the population at large. Their involvement in science resulted in a significant contribution to the natural as well as social sciences and humanities. This factor deserves some reflection in connection to the new positions acquired by Jews throughout all European countries, eliciting a debate on issues which can be considered extensions of the so called “Jewish question”: is there a propensity for Jews to engage in scientific fields of knowledge? And: how much and in which way does the Jewish intellectual tradition contribute to the development of science as a distinct corpus of knowledge? While the first of these queries implies a straightforward relationship between Jews and science, the second seeks for a more complex explanation. As the argument is not a simple one, both issues may give rise to a few serious objections. In this respect, Yakov Rabkin (1995) raised some critical issues which we want to examine in light of our discussion.

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The first of Rabkin’s objections is that the attempt to relate science and its products to specific social and ethnic groups—such as the Jews—may be criticized on the grounds that science, as a universal phenomenon, transcends cultural variables since it is a reflection of a single nature common to all humans. Thus, distinguishing between Jewish and non-Jewish scientists is irrelevant. Besides, such distinction may be dangerous, providing an opening to ideological issues, leading to policies of racial and social exclusion. The other point raised by Rabkin is that the influence of Talmudic studies in shaping the Jews’ intellectual propensity for modern science is very difficult to prove. This causal link should require data to validate its existence; thus, a clear relationship between Jewish mentality and intellectual styles required by scientific research is to be dismissed for lack of empirical evidence. One way to escape these objections is not to insist on Judaism as a system of thought capable of affecting the experience of believers, but rather to describe it from a socio-cultural perspective. The latter implies a continuous interaction of Jews with other people, which brought fertile achievements through their reciprocal intellectual engagement. In fact, since its beginning, Jewish scholarship has been the product of two cultural dimensions: Judaism, a unitary religious system, and Jewishness, a diversified intellectual response according to Jewish styles of living in different countries. This fact invokes the exploration of the dynamic relationship between these two dimensions. While Judaism provided the unifying model of religious knowledge, which was similar for all Jewish communities, Jewishness resulted from the multiple intercultural models originating from the conditions found by European Jews in their host countries. This dynamic relationship suggests that Jewish diversity is not merely a diachronic problem to be solved from a teleological perspective (Boccaccini 2009: 29).6 The secular living of Jews in Diaspora was diversified by the fact that their cultural geography mattered a lot in affecting the possibilities of negotiating their cultural power in the host countries, and it also significantly shaped

6 Gabriele Boccaccini distinguishes between Judaism, Jewishness and Judaicness. Jewish and Jewishness refer to the people, history, and culture of ethnic Jews, while Judaicness refers to their monotheistic faith and its intellectual aspects.

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the way Jews experienced Judaism ( J. Boyarin and D. Boyarin 2002).7 In fact, many different traditions can be found in Europe: Jews of Eastern Europe were highly dissimilar to those of the West, and among them, Italian Jewry represents a unique case in the Diaspora. Being the most ancient diasporic community in Europe, a Jewish presence in Italy can be traced since 70 C.E. with the Jewish Diaspora in Rome. Jews who came to Italy from Spain established uninterrupted traditions which had long-lasting continuity because of the ghettos. Living in the ghetto forbade Jews from travelling from one place to another, and they finally rooted temselves in specific towns and places. The more recent presence of European Jews in scientific professions has been a diversified phenomenon since medieval times. Throughout the Middle Ages, it was possible to record a continuous, ongoing, scientific discourse between Jews and non-Jews in all European countries, especially in Spain and Italy. This phenomenon was particularly fertile in historical periods when the doors were open to minority groups such as Jews and Muslims. In Spain, for example, there was a golden age in which the close relationship between Jews and Muslims produced extraordinary peaks of high culture (Zeitlin 2012: 114). Medieval Jews not only contributed to the development of fields such as medicine, astrology, philosophy and literature, but also acted as intermediaries between other religious cultures, “as discoverers and ‘merchants of ideas’” (Rabkin 2008: 4), in the humanities as well as in the natural sciences. The writings of Maimonides are good examples of scientific and theosophical knowledge. Similarly, during the Renaissance and in earlier periods, Italian Jewry provided many examples of intercultural engagement with the intellectual traditions of its surroundings. For instance, the Kabbalah was well known among some Italian philosophers of the fifteenth century, such as Pico della Mirandola (1463-1494).8 In more recent times Vittorio Hayim Castiglioni (1840-1911), chief rabbi in Rome and a great scholar and educator, attempted to reconcile Darwin’s theory of evolution with the Torah (Castiglioni 1892). However, in those days, the intellectual discourses were confined only to few individuals representing the elites, and were not evenly spread among 7 8

Cited in Clifford 1997: 217. Giovanni Pico della Mirandola was an Italian humanist who had an entire kabbalistic library translated for him by Flavius Mithridates, a converted Jew.

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all members of the Jewish communities. As a result, past engagement of Jews with science was not univocal, but a highly diversified phenomenon according to situations, nations, and circumstances. This multiform picture has been cleverly illustrated by scholars such as Moshe Rosman (2007) and David B. Ruderman (1995). The latter studied Jewish attitudes towards science in a variety of settings between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries. In the past, and for much of the nineteenth century, the varieties of Jewish religious experiences were based on a unifying principle representing Judaism’s main source of intellectual scholarship (Hart 2000: 15). Its features provided the religious bonds for Jewish expression, eliciting at the same time the emergence of scientific interest. In this way, we can claim that the Talmud encouraged the explorations of deep principles beyond the surface through reflection and argumentation. Besides, it contains many pieces of scientific information even if the priority of rabbinical sages was not that of discovering the hidden rules of nature (Rabkin 1995: 4). Moreover, in Judaism, there is no conflict between science and religion, and its lack of dogma freed it from the long history of conflicts between religion and science which characterized Christianity. Thus, Jews’ intellectual curiosity, transmitted through the near-universal study of the Torah, linked itself to some social conditions which predisposed them towards the elements necessary for scientific work. The fact that most Jewish males were fully literate in Hebrew and Yiddish or Ladino, and often in other languages, was an advantage that was combined with the transnational character of scientific activity, a situation in which Jews have been well positioned through centuries of banking and trading. It follows that studying, considered as a precept leading to a life of discipline that would bring one closer to holiness, provided a rational structure which obliged Jews to reflect on their actions in the meticulous observance of biblical laws. This attitude, combined with the Jewish attitude of asking questions, such as commanded on the Seder night, prepared the grounds for challenging traditional wisdom. In this way, the rational heritage of the Jewish tradition may have worked as a factor predisposing Jews towards the systematic study of scientific disciplines, an attitude providing one of the many possible explanations of their wide participation in modern sciences. The visibility of this fact

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was a source of interest also among scholars who were not of Jewish origins. In 1893, the sociologist Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu, commenting on Jewish attitudes towards science, expressed himself in the following way: [ Jews] have been prepared by heredity, by two thousand years of intellectual gymnastics. By taking up our sciences, they do not enter an unknown territory, they return to a country already explored by their ancestors. The centuries have not only equipped Israel for stock-market wars and for assaults on fortune, they have armed it for scientific battles and intellectual conquests. (221; quoted in Sleskine 2004: 58)

This being the case, many of the mentioned intellectual competencies were not evenly spread throughout the Jewish population. In 1886, the great folklorist Joseph Jacobs (quoted in Efron 2007: 5) set out a comparison between the talents of the Jews and those of other Westerners, and found the Jewish performances mediocre in every science with the exception of medicine. Another study done by a Princeton psychologist, Carl Brigham (1923), at the beginning of the twentieth century,9 concluded that the intelligence of Jews in the United States was below that of Jews from other countries, except Poland and Italy. So, when we speak of Jewish excellence in science, we must take into account factors other than cognitive performance alone. This issue must be examined in historical and sociological terms, rather than mental and biological ones.

1.3  JEWISH IDENTITY AND SCIENTIFIC PROFESSIONS The process of secularization of culture separated by religion, brought about by the emancipation, reconfigured anew the state of science and the scientific professions. The desire to change their past condition drove Jews towards alternatives to religious Judaism, which mediated their choices regarding more universalistic cultures and new ideologies.10 In looking for a new identity, some Jews abandoned their orthodox religious practices to embrace scientific professions, which offered the possibility of becoming part of a   9 Brigham himself later disowned his findings, but this indicates that social facts are not to be treated as those referring to hard sciences. 10 This process was very uneven as the search for a new identity became a complicated and diversified endeavor (Endelman 2009).

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universal discourse. For Jews at the time, part of the effort was directed to reshaping their Jewish identity according to modern demands (Hart 2000). These were strong reactions to the social circumstances in which Jews had been living in different parts of Europe, to be changed radically if they were to achieve modernity. In fact, there was some form of discrimination in almost all communities. In Eastern Europe Jews were identified as pariahs with social and political exclusion; in Germany Jews found socioeconomic and cultural assimilation, but political exclusion; in France, Jewish rights were based on a political and social recognition of Jews but associated with strong antisemitism11 (Traverso 2013: 54-55). To enter the wider neutral space to gain inalienable rights, Jews had to “convert” to a new national faith. This is precisely what many European Jews did (Slezkine 2004: 67). While Marxism was offering a control on socio-economic laws of society, science was providing the attempt to gain control over the laws of nature (Rabkin 2008). In this respect the Jews’ Mercurian nature (Slezkine 2004), which permitted them to be mobile, urban, and highly capable merchants engaged in economic transactions, was now directed to establish a new mental relationship with the abstract categories required by the new sciences. This effort was partially aimed at rehabilitating the image of the Jew in Diaspora, the pariah of society in Hannah Arendt’s definition (1944), who gradually transformed his condition into that of a conscious pariah. This new position, far from reaching full redemption, referred to a Jew who is neither an insider nor an outsider. Having to stand on his own feet, he is aware of the strengths and pitfalls of European societies and of Jewish communities, living on the narrow bridge between the two. Viewed in this light, the significant participation of Jews in the “new sciences” would not represent a continuum with their past, but rather a point of rupture, impelled by ideological, social, and intellectual forces. This dynamic condition was increased by emigration of Jews towards the United States, escaping from European countries. In this new land, Jews found wider horizons and new possibilities to integrate themselves, socially, and intellectually. Another reason why Jews were particularly attracted by science is the nature of moral and idealistic ethos of this discipline, with neutral standards 11 The case of Dreyfus who was serving the French army represents a typical example of this situation.

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transcending political and national boundaries. To some extent, science became a new “religion” which replaced Judaism as a highly attractive alternative to Christianity. The definition of Joseph Ben David, an Israeli scholar who provided a classical study on professionalization of science in Europe, clarifies the moral tenor of science which resonates with the moral principles transmitted by traditional Judaism: The reliance … on faith in a divine order provided the scientific ethos a firm foundation—in fact the only firm foundation—which it has cognitively and morally. Cognitively because it assumes a creator and a human mind capable of grasping the ideas of the creator; and morally because it lends religious meanings to scientific inquiry, and takes as if for granted that those engaged in such inquiry accept the moral precepts of religion. (Ben David 1984: xx)

In embracing the new sciences, traditional values appear to have survived among Jews in a secularized domain. At the same time, science offered them a way of escaping the traditional Jewish universe in order to discover new meanings in the search for a new, broader identity. This process took a multidimensional aspect, due to the different socio-cultural conditions that Jews have encountered in their lives throughout the years. It is also important to recall that modernity was not perceived by all Jews in the same manner, as their responses were neither univocal nor dictated by the same motives. For instance, at the time of the industrial revolution, a great number of European rabbis, who were leaders of their communities, feared the new ideological and technological developments. They equated “modernity” with danger and spiritual pollution as described by Mary Douglas in her book of 1966, Purity and Danger (Fishbane 1995: 69). To protect the halakhah, they tried to reinforce it by erecting a protective wall of rituals, decrees, and distinctive boundaries to strengthen the traditional Jewish practices. These rules, paradoxically, provided the grounds for the emergence of more stringent Jewish practices coinciding with the process of modernization. Once more, these attitudes were not uniform within religious Jewish circles. If some Eastern European rabbis rejected innovations, some others tried to incorporate the changes by giving them a religious legitimacy within the halakhah, conceived as an ongoing process. In all cases, social innovations set up a process of change, in one direction or another.

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So, while it will not be possible to claim a direct comparison between science and Judaism, it is nevertheless legitimate to recall the impact that the traditional Jewish elements had on the new type of science. If scientific validity is bound to the same universal laws which are free from any contextual variables of knowledge, surely the mode, style, and topic of any scientific approach depend on the specific characteristics of socio-cultural background of the researcher (Di Castro 1992: 157). The recent transformation of humanities in social sciences such as sociology, anthropology, linguistics, and psychology required scientific methods to study social phenomena. This effort applied to relatively new fields of knowledge, attempted to rationalize societies and their internal conflicts, and increased debates at the beginning of the twentieth century (Morris-Reich 2008). The Jews who were involved in modern sciences were dealing with the possibility of bringing significant changes to a society which to some extent reflected their own, individually as well as collectively. Secularized Jews contributed substantially to the sociological debate, and played an important role not only in founding these disciplines but also in transforming them into academic subjects. The common presence of Jews in the social sciences retrospectively calls for the question of the role they played in the interpretation of social facts in a period in which modern Western science was in its formative stage, coinciding with a new social status the Jews attained. This situation is particularly fitting to posit the following query: to what extent and in which way do Jewish elements appear in the theoretical paradigms of the new Jewish scientists? And: to what extent was Jewish scientists’ epistemological view conditioned by their own experiences as minority groups within their host societies? If one refuses to offer answers based on simplistic generalization, a great variety of responses must be taken into account, conditioned by a great variety of factors, such as social, political, and linguistic. All these factors, in different ways, conditioned modern Jews to develop social sciences.

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1.4  EPISTEMOLOGICAL PARADIGMS IN THE NEW SCIENCES A few examples will be provided to offer a diversified view of scientific methods employed by Jewish social scientists at the turn of the twentieth century. In the new social conditions, Jewish scholars’ most important avenue was that of trying to attain formal recognition in academic and intellectual fields. This attitude was strengthened by the fact that, for centuries, Jews had been excluded from scientific societies and institutional affiliations. By entering steadily into the new scientific domains, Jews had the ability to overcome their secular experiences as strangers and aliens within their host surroundings. This possibility was instrumental in reaching a stronger position in the eyes of the majority. In this context, psychoanalysis, with Freud as its founding father, represents a unique example in the history of science, not only for having been created by a Jew, but also for having being continued and further explored by a group of scientists who were predominantly Jewish.12 From 1900 till 1960, Freud’s theory spread thanks to a common symbolism culturally shared by welleducated scholars—Europeans and later Americans—who first believed in Freud’s intuitions, even if they had no empirical proofs on the validity of his ideas. Shared symbolism is one of the most important features distinguishing members of the same culture, and most probably Freud’s conceptualizations were a product of his Western and Jewish culture, which had no appeal to the Asians, the Africans, or the Indians (Kagan 2013: 145). Disciplines such as sociology, linguistics, and anthropology had more diversified stories, but in those fields as well the individual presence of Jews has been remarkable. To give a few examples, Franz Boas and Georg Simmel have been considered, respectively, the founding fathers of American cultural anthropology and sociology. In linguistics, Sapir, in collaboration with Whorf, initiated the important debate on linguistic relativity, while Lévi-Strauss and Roman 12 Many followers of Freud were Jewish, with a few exceptions, such as Carl Gustav Jung and Ernst Jones.

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Jakobson were the most important founders of structuralism, respectively in anthropology and linguistics. These factors can also be considered in socio-cultural terms. The new epistemological representations of social sciences were often rooted in the particular social discourses that coincided with the new visibility of Jews within Western societies. In this respect, the early years of sociological and anthropological inquiry in the 1930s provided significant streams of research with common themes behind their theoretical interests. The discovery of diversities and diversification of human life and behavior were the preferred topics of studies in the new streams of European sociology, linguistics, and anthropology, which were eventually exported to the United States. These studies focused on the status of Eastern European indigenous and Judaic traditions as alternatives to Western Europeans, emphasizing the encounter and the recognition of the “other.” This implied focusing on the presence of patterns of exclusion within society, the recognition of social identities, the acknowledgement of the presence of minority groups and sub-groups as opposed to dominant ones. Indigenous epistemologies and Jewish contributions to the social sciences were now confronted in the open and theorized upon. Morris-Reich, an Israeli scholar who wrote a book to investigate Jewish assimilation in modern social science (2008), compared Franz Boas to Georg Simmel, in the way they represented the “Jew” as an epistemological category. These scholars were both German Jews, born in the same year, 1858, and they were both assimilated Jews, a condition implying that they had been influenced by intellectual traditions other than Judaism, such as historicism and neo-Kantianism. Morris-Reich argued that despite their different disciplinary discourses, these two authors provided a similar epistemological view to represent the Jews, based on assimilation. This designated category expressed the real condition in which Jews were living at the time, which was also their own condition. In commenting on Simmel’s and Boas’ works, Morris Reich concludes as follows: They were both founders of modern academic disciplines, both operating before their respective fields were fully institutionalized, and, as such,

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innovators. But they were also both individuals bound by their contemporary contexts…. Simmel and Boas therefore, were in many ways the products of the very processes they sought to study, analyze, and represent…. As scholars of Jewish descent, they avoided focusing on seemingly parochial topics, a choice dictated by their desire not to view themselves primarily as Jews, their attempts not to obstruct Jewish assimilation, and also as a strategy to gain a large audience and to gain success. Implicitly, nonetheless, these writers had a special interest in assimilation processes in general and in assimilation of Jews in particular, and these interests were not dissociated from their areas of study. (2-3)

In particular, Simmel’s notion of the Jew as a “stranger” within society expressed his idea on modernity, which had great influence on the sociological trends of the time. To Simmel, the concept of the Jew as “stranger” testifies to society’s fragmentation and differentiation, but at the same time is an idea holding society together with a cohesive feeling (115). Simmel’s notion of the “stranger” became a basic concept for the sociological paradigms of the time. This concept has lately been borrowed by Robert E. Park (1928), who transformed it into that of the ”marginal man,” an idea which had been further elaborated by the Chicago school in 1930s America (Morris-Reich 2008). On similar grounds, one can examine Durkheim’s theoretical approach to society. As a son of a rabbi, Durkheim, far from rejecting the importance of religion, looked for the basic elements of religion in all societies. The French sociologist made a radical distinction between two realms, the sacred and the profane. In so doing, he rejected the contrasting approach of Levi-Bruhl stressing the contrast between primitive and modern societies. Instead, he claimed a continuity/evolutionary relationship, associated respectively with speculation about the Divine—which is discontinuous in society—and cosmologies, constituting an element of continuity. Durkheim wrote as follows in his book The Elementary Forms of Religious Life: It has long been known that the first systems of representations that man made of the world and himself were of religious origin. There is no religion that is not both a cosmology and a speculation about the divine. If philosophy and the sciences are born in religion, it is because religion itself began by serving as science and philosophy….

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Men owe to religion not only the content of their knowledge, in significant part, but also the form in which that knowledge is elaborated. (Durkheim 1995: 8)

In his view, there is also a radical difference between systems of practices, open to different and constantly changing forms of expressions—the content of the ritual—and the cosmological order—the basic principle responsible for the division of spheres into sacred and profane—which is ever-enduring, universal, and fundamental. Religion is not only a system of practices but also a system of ideas whose object is to express the world; even the humblest have their own cosmologies, as we have seen. No matter how these two elements of religious life may be related, they are nevertheless quite different. (430)

Durkheim recognized the continuity between religion and scientific thought, even if he acknowledged a qualitative difference between the two. In any case, he strongly affirmed that: “…religion seems destined to transform itself rather than disappear” (432). Durkheim provided a significant example of the way in which early modernity in the West separated itself from religious regulation. While this phenomenon was not new to the Jewish tradition, nor within the historical tradition of the west, all the same he served as a precursor of how secular knowledge became stable and enduring in modern times. In Durkheim’s view, the importance of religion consists in the fact that it opens the space between the religious and scientific forms of knowledge. In this approach we can identify the distinctive features of a modern scientist, situated in his time and place, making distinctions between the secular and sacred spheres within society. Nevertheless, his view on social facts was not free from the influences of his original Jewish background.13 His ideas have been a source of consistent inspiration for Basil Bernstein, who had been strongly influenced by the reading of Durkheim and translated his concepts into the new sociology of education (Moore 2013: 10).

13 Jewish influences on Durkheim have been in discussed by Ivan Strenski in his book Durkheim and the Jews of France (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1997).

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New humanistic sciences were innovative also in connection to their epistemological postulates. Epistemologically, the new trends in research started to break away from the neutrality and objectivity of the older scientific inquiry, admitting that the subject-centered nature of all human knowing and learning had become increasingly salient. This subjective nature of research was a productive opportunity, an epistemic window, and a new possibility for methodological innovation.14 The subjective aspect in epistemology provides an interesting case with Freud’s own view as founder of psychoanalysis. In trying to diminish his anxiety that his new discipline would be considered a typical Jewish phenomenon, thus attracting antisemitism, Freud denied any direct relationship between his theory and Judaism. In replying to the Jewish institutions which welcomed him in his arrival in England, he expressed himself in this manner: While thanking you for welcoming me to England, I would like to ask you not to treat me “as a guide of Israel.” I would like to be considered merely as a modest man of science and in no other way. Despite being a good Jew who has never denied Judaism, I still cannot forget my totally negative attitude towards all religions, including Judaism, which sets me apart from my Jewish colleagues and makes me unsuitable for the role you would like to grant me. (Quoted in Chemouny 1988: 127, 266)

While Freud drew a clear line of separation between his science and Judaism, celebrating the universalism of science over any form of particularity, he always acknowledged his pride in belonging to the Jewish people. In this, he recognized that Jewishness as a trans-historical state would represent a kind of “property of the Jew” resistant to all phenomena of mass culture (Roudinesco 2013: 72). Corroborating this point, Freud stated the following in a talk given at Vienna B’nai Brith: And before long there followed the realization that it was only to my Jewish nature that I owed the two qualities that have become indispensable to me throughout my difficult life. Because I was a Jew I was free of many of the prejudices, which impaired others to use their intellects. As a Jew I was totally prepared to go to the opposition and to renounce being in accordance with a cohesive majority. (Freud 1970: 368) 14 This has also been conceived as social sciences weak point.

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With no doubt, the situation of being an oppressed minority forced Jews to take part in projects geared towards societal transformation and change. However, this fact alone is not sufficient to explain such a phenomenon, even if the view of Jews within their host societies distinguished them from that of the majority. This state of affairs, which was certainly pertinent to Sigmund Freud, was also present in another most influential and creative Jewish scholar of the past century, Albert Einstein. Freud and Einstein had many things in common: they were both Central European Jews of German language, who never received high honours in their native land, and they both had to emigrate as refugees from the Nazis. Despite being secular Jews, they always expressed a deep attachment to their Jewish identity. Both were vehemently anti-religious, in their own ways. Most probably, their undeniable genius and creativity were stimulated by the sense of ambiguity and uncertainty of their own unstable personal positions (Einstein 1956; Gordis 1975). The recognition that every human situation may reflect more than one attitude or state of mind was transmitted in their work. While Einstein dealt with the external world of physics, Freud was deeply engaged with inner processes of the psyche, and yet both of them alluded to the uncertainties of their own time. One studied the inconsistencies of the individual’s inner world while the other investigated the cosmos with a “theory of relativity.” In so doing they both revealed recognition of the same profound existential insecurity that also found expression in many other non-Jewish exponents of their contemporary culture, such as Pirandello, James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, and many others (Gordis 1975). In that period the Jew served as a seismograph of wider existential questions, which strongly resonated in him due to the fact that he is the one who strongly experiences the tension between imposed and worthless existence and the aspiration to freedom. He is the one who experiences the riddle of existence with special passion because this riddle touches on the foundations of his existence as a Jew, without leaving any comfortable and seductive space for evasion. The scepticism, the alienation, and the rift that are part of the modern experience resonate with special intensity in Jewish existence. (Sagi 2011: 108)

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This is the way Avi Sagi describes Jewish existentialist condition, taking inspiration from the writings of Joseph Chaim Brenner, a Jewish existentialist writer. In this framework, Vygotsky and Bernstein were probably products of an uprooted condition, relatable to a certain extent to the fact that they were part of an emancipated minority within their own societies. These are major themes with which modern Jews have constantly been challenged and which have always been among the primary preoccupations of Judaism. In our discussion, they represent the initial general precondition that must be examined in its different and more specific forms in relation to Bernstein and Vygotsky as Jews in Western society. In conclusion, it may be argued that the brief epistemological analysis of the authors quoted in our samples shows how they have been conditioned by their positions as Jews in the modern era. Without denying their Jewishness, they all showed a desire to abandon Judaism as a main cultural point of reference to fully embrace more universal ideas. Nevertheless their Jewishness reappeared, albeit in a transformative form. In this respect, it may be assumed that their works had been shaped by several interconnected levels, such as biographies and their contextual social positioning as Jews in Diaspora. This implies that their particular social position, engaged in a majority-minority relationship, may have affected their epistemological vision of the world. Often, if not always, this situation within the host society, which made the Jews alien and strangers par excellence, provided them with a double vision which was used advantageously to capture the new social elements within societies, as well as a critical eye in the perception of ongoing social factors. This, in turn, implies that the object(s) of their research would have been chosen in accordance with this vision, which would not be dissociated from their areas of study. If the evaluation of the process of scientific thinking on Jewry remains an open question, the issue that any type of knowledge is always a socio-cultural knowledge provides a fundamental epistemological factor which we will pursue in the unfolding of the present inquiry.

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1.5  METHODOLOGY: BIOGRAPHIES OF LIVES, BIOGRAPHIES OF IDEAS In dealing with two different authors, we are inevitably faced with a methodological problem. We are well aware that the criterion of religious observance is not a decisive element in establishing one’s identification with Jewishness and the Jewish tradition or awareness of one’s belonging to it. While their Jewish cultural tradition may represent a common denominator providing the deep syntactic structure of their theoretical framework, another point in common between the two authors can be found in their unique cultural positions as Jews in Diaspora. This is especially true in the case of modern Europe, where combinations of migration, antisemitism, and the Holocaust compelled Jews to deeply revise their identity both in Europe and throughout the Western world. Moreover, Judaism, like all creeds in modern societies, is going through a difficult period where values of a more secular nature are replacing religious ones. Many Jews today consider their Jewish faith only as a vague, abstract consciousness of their Jewish lineage, while among those who define themselves as religious, we find very profound differences and various degrees of observance of Jewish precepts (Kasher 1995). Thus the basic question that we are faced with here is: how legitimate may it be to attribute to Judaism some of the basic concepts elaborated by Bernstein and Vygotsky in their theoretical approaches? Furthermore, how can we demonstrate that such a link exists? While it is quite obvious that the work of any thinker originates from characteristics of his/her life and experiences, we believe that, since biographies of lives are often biographies of ideas, we may discover Bernstein and Vygotsky’s Jewish roots initially by analyzing their biographies to highlight their external relationships with their Jewish community and culturalhistorical heritage. This entails digging into their childhoods and upbringings, shedding light on their knowledge of the Bible, establishing the arena of their activities and their cultural predilections, to understand the phases of their intellectual development, friendships, and family relationships.

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Clearly, all of these elements must be recorded and expressly documented in order to understand the types of relationships that shaped their perspectives and ideas, and the values and meanings expressed in their works. These records may be writings, letters, or public speeches, as in the case of the biography of Freud ( Jones 1953; Gay 1988; Bakan 1965), or explicit writings as in the case of Einstein, who often expressed his personal ideas on Judaism (Einstein 1956). While the biographical method becomes an element of vital importance in establishing the links and the types of dialectic that a thinker established with his/her community of origin, it is certainly not the only factor that enables us to understand whether a scholar may or may not be identified as a Jewish thinker. The impact of Judaism on a writer’s work lies essentially in the types of relationships where Jewish values may have been established within its conceptual components. It cannot, therefore, be reduced to a question of mere “influence” on the author’s source of ideas. Rather, we believe that our attempt at linking Vygotsky and Bernstein with their Jewish tradition must focus in part on their personal and scientific background, but first and foremost on their intellectual developments voiced in their work, viewed from a Jewish perspective. This process may encounter some problems, which can be summarized as follows: First, the levels of our investigation, biographical and conceptual, may not be in consonance with one another. In fact, Vygotsky‘s life offers plenty of biographical data indicating his deep commitment to the Jewish culture, providing raw material from which to make direct comparisons between his life and his ideas. To the contrary, Bernstein’s life, despite his Jewish upbringing, was less marked by Judaism and its founding principles. However, this does not mean that Bernstein’s work may not also have had an unconscious identification with Judaism and its founding ideas, although such aspects will have to be sought indirectly, by exploring his theoretical concepts, where clear evidence may be more difficult to pin down. Second, not all of the qualitative elements of the theoretical aspects of the work of the two authors may be interpreted as related in some way to the

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Jewish tradition. Extracting the Jewish factors from the totality of their work may oblige us to select aspects of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s works where links with Jewish elements taken directly from the Torah can be identified, providing evidence of actual relationships between the two. Unconscious factors of Jewish identification may be subject to the reader’s personal interpretation, and therefore may not be empirically evident or universally acknowledged. As all these factors will be constantly at play, we shall examine three interrelated aspects in order to clearly differentiate the issues we seek to analyze. In this attempt, we have proceeded along three lines: a) socio-historical, through the study of the authors’ biographies; b) epistemological, through analyses of their theories; c) conceptual, through analyses of patterns of meanings in both theories that may pertain to the Jewish tradition. By creating a synthesis between an examination of the authors’ lives and that of their ideas, we wish to broaden the spectrum of our investigation, in order to reach beyond the merely biographical aspects of the authors in question. We have already mentioned that the biographical data, recorded in connection with the two authors is not homogeneous. Vygotsky’s life provides plenty of episodes concerning his Jewish commitment, whereas Bernstein does not provide such information. In his case, the presence of a conceptual commitment to the Jewish tradition in his adult life was more cryptic and invisible. For this reason we tried to provide further proof for our inquiry by attempting an implementation of some of his concepts with biblical sources. Thus, our respective analysis of their lives and work will not proceed in consonance. This factor can be equally attributed to the limitations of our methodological inquiry as well as to different stylistic perspectives of the two authors of the present book. Vygotsky’s cultural-historical approach and Bernstein’s theories of sociolinguistic codes may be considered expressions of a Jewish humanism. It remains to be demonstrated to what extent and in what manner this type of humanism relates to the deep principles of Judaism.

CHAPTER 2

The Conditions of Jews in Diaspora Antonella Castelnuovo

W

  hile pursuing our exploration of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s sociocultural roots in the light of their Jewish background, we need to make a distinction between the intellectual antecedent found in the main ideas of Judaism and the socio-historical situations in which Jews lived and worked in Diaspora. We believe that, to a large extent, some of these historical conditions must have had some kind of impact on Vygotsky and Bernstein’s personal lives. The social factors linked to their positions as Jews may have affected their personal and Jewish identities even though they lived and worked in different circumstances. It is, therefore, important to trace a synthetic outline of the social milieu in which Jews found themselves, particularly in Europe in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

2.1  JUDAISM IN DIASPORA Judaism is not a monolithical religious culture as, historically, it has engaged in dialogue with a number of diversified cultures; thus from the very beginning, it absorbed many influences contributing to its development as a whole.

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In fact, cultural syncretism was familiar to ancient Israel and to rabbis themselves1 (Biale 2002). Despite this, or most probably because of this, Judaism constitutes a religion of a people whose identity can be traced back more than 3000 years. This continuity in time was achieved primarily religiously through the observance of Jewish law, all pervading, providing models by which the present, past, and future events may be interpreted. Sociologically, the preservation of the Jewish identity was due to the fact that Jews have always lived in small communities, both in Palestine and in the Diaspora. This factor was most likely at the basis for succeeding in “building a fence around the Torah,” preserving laws, statues, and precepts in the clear recognition that the community had to rely more on rituals and laws rather than on military power to preserve its unity (Sharf 1970: 156-57). Through the centuries, disruptive effects have not been avoided but significantly reduced to limit heresies and schisms. Before describing the socio-historical changes of Jews living in the Diaspora, it would be useful to understand how Jews have been defined in the biblical tradition, as this might provide the appropriate paradigmatic model from which all Jews originally departed. The Bible bases the Jewish identity on three main components: 1) Being Jewish means belonging to “the children of Abraham,” as he is the first Jew and also the father of a multitude of nations (Genesis 17:5). This type of belonging refers to the whole range of monotheistic faiths, which transcend the boundaries of the Jewish people and affirm universalism and messianism. In this respect it includes the other two major monotheistic faiths, Christianity and Islam, as all descend from the common father, Abraham. 2) Being Jewish means being part of “the seed of Isaac,” implying the presence of biological features, as Jews are believed to belong to the same mishpahah, a family distinguished by blood ties. This implies an ethnic nature of the Jewish peoplehood conceived as a large extended family. Sometimes members from other communities came to the Jewish group and they have been treated as full members of it, like the Moabite woman Ruth. Throughout history, outstanding scholars such as, for instance, Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Meir were

1 Examples of syncretism are the adoption of the Greek language and names by Jews living in the Roman world.

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asked to share the same family tradition, based on shared history and shared religious commitments. 3) The final and third component of Jewishness is membership of the “congregation of Jacob,” whereby the children of Israel represent the constitution of a tradition ascribed to the days of Moses, the Second Jewish Commonwealth, which adopted the Law of Moses. When the children of Israel at Mount Sinai accepted the divine Law, they did so with an oral commitment expressed and sealed by the words: “All that the Lord hath spoken will we do, and obey” (Exodus 24:7). Doing is a very important dimension in Jewish life, but communal acceptance of the will of God is equally important. Traditionally, the threefold definition—children of Abraham, seed of Isaac, and congregation of Jacob—has remained unbroken throughout history and in many areas of the Diaspora. These were the relevant elements used to define Jewish identity, founded on the way of life of the people of Israel whose specific religious creed followed practices set up within a network of social relations based on strong ties between the members of the same community. In fact, the particular quality of the Jewish law is that it covers every action of the entire life cycle of the Jewish people, imposed on by practices setting up boundaries between behavior that is permitted or forbidden, contravention of which can lead to punishment. This dimension is represented by the obligations contained in the 613 mitzvoth (every day precepts),2 of which 365 are prohibitions and 248 positive commandments. Throughout the centuries, the mitzvoth did not remain static, as they were interpreted by lay scholars who qualified as ministers of the Law not through priestly descent but because of their own personal learning. This was the only factor allowing them to administer and interpret the Law. In later generations, the interpretation of the mizvoth remained a living body of the Jewish tradition, guaranteeing its development and assuring the progress of the way of life of the community. These practices were essential in order to prevent Judaism from becoming a literalist, crystallized, and immutable expression of Scriptural fundamentalism. By posing limits to everyday actions, mizvoth established a living script, not directed to contemplation but to achieve moral perfection. 2 A mitzvah, singular for mitzvoth, is an important concept in Judaism as it implies a divine commandment, an obligation and a good deed all in the one word.

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While this moral achievement is often the goal of all Western religions, this living script is what distinguishes Judaism from Christianity and Islam, by making it unique and religiously specific. Christianity marked its diversity from Judaism by following the teaching of the Apostle Paul, whereby the Christian Church substituted the observance of the mizvoth with faith in Jesus. For Christians, he is the Messiah who symbolically replaced the instrumental role of ritual obligations (Petuchowski 1981: 441). The history of the Jewish people, originally narrated by the Bible, continued uninterrupted during the centuries of their Diaspora despite the persecutions. This testifies that Judaism has survived and remained unaltered in its relevant specific features since the destruction of the Second Temple. While the founding principles of Judaism may be learned and transmitted by anyone, anywhere, irrespective of time and space, being a Jew is nevertheless a matter of specific, contextualized existential status, strictly linked to the socio-historical circumstances of a person’s milieu. Thus, in time of Diaspora, the political weakness and vulnerability of the Jews meant that they often were highly conditioned by eternal circumstances, not ultimate antisemitism. In particular in modern times, starting with emancipation, Jewish communality became a voluntary act; it meant wanting to remain Jewish, and made the choice an individual one.

2.2  JEWS IN CULTURAL-HISTORICAL MILIEU The preservation of Judaism throughout the centuries in Europe is testified by two factors, one historical and one cultural. Historically, the isolation in which the Jews were compelled to live during the Middle Ages in Europe helped to strenghten their community ties. In fact, even in the rejection of the Rabbinical interpretation of the Torah as a way of life, many Jews remained attached to Judaism in a culturalhistorical sense. This self-awareness rested on the fact that what had made him/her a Jew was a common history and a common destiny as a peoplehood. In the dark age of Christian persecutions that imposed the compulsory conditions of life in the ghettos, Jews did not despair but reinforced their confidence in the coming of a Messiah in hope of a transformation and change in their poor, marginalized position among the nations. This ideal was

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translated in socialist terms during the Emancipation, in hope of building a better society. Primarilly, Jews in Europe developed their ”power” exercised in the cultural spheres. Stateless in all countries, they directed their energies to the preservation and developments of their cultural goods, conceived in terms of reading, writing, studying, finance and exchanging money.3 This also implies the fact that Jews remained in contact, as they were conversant with each other beyond their national boundaries. In this manner they shared a transcultural geography of Jewish history and managed to keep the links to their tradition. This condition has been described by Moshe Rosman, who highlighted the narrow focus of studies contextualizing the history of Jews of the Diaspora confined within their local communities. Rosman’s claim is as follows: There is a cultural geography of Jewish history that transcends national political boundaries. It may not reveal a monolithic culture, but it will probably lend insight into one that resembles a rope with multi-colored strands all interwined. (Rosman 2007: 28)

On these grounds, the question must be raised as to whether one is allowed to speak of one Jewish culture across the ages, or rather of Jewish cultures in the plural. Besides, specific components of Judaism may be recognized within the Western intellectual tradition. Western cultural experiences are certainly not dissonant with Judaism, and this was due to the fact that Jews in Diaspora have been compelled to link the values of Judaism to secular ones, as a sign of integration into their hosting societies. This involved an effort to synthesize the habits and beliefs of two distinct political and cultural spheres. In the tension between these forces, Jews became a “Diaspora people,” bearing the unique characteristics of the Jewish historical experience outside of their original homeland (Zeitlin 2012: 1). The Jewish condition in Diaspora may provide a model of historical experiences as well as for contemporary hybrid identities. J. and D. Boyarin described it as such: 3 Financial and monetary transactions were possible because Jews could read, write, and count.

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Diasporic cultural identity teaches us that cultures are not preserved by being protected from ”mixing” but probably can only continue to exist as a product of mixing. While this is true of all cultures, diasporic Jewish culture lays it bare because of the impossibility of a natural association between this people and a particular land—thus the impossibility of seeing Jewish culture as a self-enclosed, bounded phenomenon. The production of an ideology of a pure Jewish cultural essence that has been debased by Diaspora seems neither historically nor ethically correct. (Quoted in Clifford 1997: 271)

A turning point for improving the conditions of Diasporic Jews was the Emancipation. For Western Jews, the process of emancipation can be traced—albeit in embryonic form—to 1792 and the Declaration of Human Rights. However, the real emancipation of the Jews became effective when they received citizenship rights, a process which took place in Central Europe at different times. The French revolutionaries had been the first who wanted the Jews to become citizens of France; however, the process of French emancipation was assimilatory, as it wanted Jews to abandon their sense of belonging to a separate nation. In this respect, Count de Clermont-Tonnerre (17571792) spelled out in a fateful speech a well known declaration, indicating a strict separation between the individual and collective sphere of Jewish identity. In 1789, he addressed the National Assembly as follows: The Jews should be denied everything as a nation, but granted everything as individuals.... It is intolerable that the Jews should become a separate formation or class in the country. Every one of them must individually become a citizen; if they do not want this, they must inform us and we shall then be compelled to expel them. The existence of a nation within a nation is unacceptable to our country. (Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz 1995: 115)

Napoleon, by allowing the opening of the ghetto gates, maintained a lot of revolutionary traditions, including Jewish emancipation, which continued throughout the nineteenth century all over Europe. For Jews this meant participating fully in the life of their society, and at the same time being allowed to maintain their Jewish identity with distinct, equally-recognized social traditions. This ”two-world attitude” of Jews of the Diaspora was common to many parts of the Western world, including North America (Plaut 1989). The struggle of Jews was part of a more general struggle for liberty and democracy (Bamberger 1970), taking place in a political climate that eventually gave rise to the secular Jewish national movement: Zionism. This movement, while

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considered a specific response to the need for a Jewish home, was not supported by the whole of European Jewry, and certainly not by all Jews. In fact, many were drawn more to the sort of emancipation that granted them full citizenship, the effect of which was the rise of a new type of social affirmation for Jews including wealth and political leadership, rather than one based on learning alone (Bamberger 1970). The emancipation was an external movement which brought new life to the Jewish communities in Europe. These, to some extent, had already been prepared for it thanks to a philosophical movement that originated in the early eighteenth century in Germany. This was the Jewish Enlightement, in Hebrew Haskalah, meaning to reason or to understand, which soon spread in all European countries, affecting Jews and their lifestyles in many ways. During this period, Jews had the opportunity to apply their intellectual abilities in many different fields, making outstanding contributions to the societies they lived in and to Western civilization in general. The new social phase coinciding with emancipation, brought about deep transformations in traditional Jewish identity, and fuelled anti-Jewish sentiment among Gentiles, defined in modern terms as antisemitism (Bamberger 1970). All over Europe, the emancipation of Jews was received under the effects of different intellectual and political climates. In England, Jews had to struggle only for political emancipation, as British Jewry had already obtained civil rights. German Jews, after less than a decade of an atmosphere of change and social improvement, were still excluded from main areas of various jobs and trades (Gartner 2001). In Eastern Europe Polish Jews, to a great extent, continued to be subordinate to higher authorities and were heavily taxed. In Russia, the growth of East European Enlightment taking place between the 1850s and 1870s, identified with the haskalah, did not reach its effect, as Hasidism, an opposite movement, became more popular. This was, above all, a mystical religious movement which gained a strong foothold in Eastern Europe. Somehow the advent of Zionism, based on the ideas of social justice and equality, merged as a response to the Jewish disappointement of the Enlightment (Zeitlin 2012: 263). In fact, Diasporic Jews realized that the need for a homeland was essential for their achievement of full rights as a people.

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One of the central figures of Zionism reaching great importance in the movement, besides Hertzl, was the philosopher-thinker Asher Ginsberg, nicknamed Ahad Ha-Am. Born in Skvira, near Kiev in the Ukraine, he was a contemporary of Vygotsky, and it is not far-fetched to hypothesize that Vygotsky knew his ideas, based on a socio-cultural approach to his Jewish roots. Although raised in a hasidic family, Ahad Ha-Am was soon exposed to secular studies. From this perspective, he acknowledged the fact that the power of culture in society does not vanish but remains undetected as an influence acting upon the individual. To this philosopher, culture was not an analytical reflection but a style of life shaped by internalized social habits. He saw culture as a point of departure, while he maintained that society and its tradition regulate people’s lives without their being consciously aware of it. So, individuals belong both to culture and society, the latter shaped by cultural and historical aspects. These ideas, so similar to those of the modern French sociologist Pierre Bordieu and his concept of habitus, were formualted by Ahad Ha-Am as early as 1894. With respect to cultural transmission, Ahad Ha-Am advocates a transformation of the Jewish identity by shifting the focus from the religious to the cultural-historical language, whereby the secular world once again takes possession of its cultural texts. He stated the following: Society does not create its spiritual stock-in-trade and its way of life afresh in every generation. These things come to birth in the earliest stages of society, being a product of the conditions of life, then proceed through a long course of development till they attain a form that suits that particular society, and then, finally, are handed down from generation to generation without any fundamental change. (1894/1912: 93)

Ahad Ha-Am postulates a dynamic view of tradition, linking past and present, as both elements are necessary to establish the individual and the national self. This is the dynamism which shaped the cultural components of the group, like shared myths, memories, and practices. From his point of view, Jewishness may be seen as a cultural phenomenon founded on cultural-peoplehood perspectives, implying that it is imbued in a set of relationships and in a network of meanings unique to the Jewish culture. To Ahad Ha-Am, depriving a Jew of his/her Jewishness is like depriving any living creature of his/her own skin. He said:

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I found no meaning in such a question [why I remain a Jew] anymore than if I were asked why I am remain my father’s son. (194)

The beginning of the nineteenth century witnessed a new phenomenon within Jewish communities: the emergence of cosmopolitan, secular, and often revolutionary Jewish intellectuals who were frequently “on the margin of two cultures and two societies.” Robert E. Park, a sociologist from Chicago University, stated this in his book Human Migration and the Marginal Man in 1928. Indeed, under the impulse of patriotic nationalistic values, many European Jews started to abandon their local Jewish identity to embrace a larger and more universal secular faith, which made them feel as if they belonged to the world around them. However, the ability of Jews to join the larger society while still retaining their Jewish identity was not a mass phenomenon, but a private individual matter. If one considers this from a psychological point of view, it meant maintaining a distinction between an inner individual world identified with a historical and cultural Jewish identity and the external values of universal social significance. This is the essence of the German Jewish Enlightenment slogan: “Be a Jew at home and a man abroad.” This idea was in some way a compromise, providing an answer to the book written by Bruno Bauer, a leading member to the Left Hegelian circle, entitled Die Judenfrage (The Jewish Question), written in 1843. Bauer ‘s thesis, which had many followers, claimed that Jews, who still had no civil rights in Germany at the time, should abandon their faith to gain full citizenship. This objection was based on the argument that Judaism was an obstacle to the participation of Jews to modern life (Zeitlin 2012: 16). The Marxist historian Isaac Deutscher, Trotsky’s biographer, described a similar process in 1968 using the expression “A non Jewish Jew,” when referring to Jewish intellectuals such as Spinoza, Trotsky, and Freud, who: dwelt on the borderlines of various civilizations, religions, and national cultures … [and] lived on the margins or in the nooks and crannies of their respective nations. They were each in society and yet not in it, of it and yet not of it. It was this that enabled them to rise in thought above their societies, above their nations, above their time and generations, and to strike out mentally into wide new horizons and far into the future. (Deutscher 1968: 28)

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Despite being a socialist and an atheist, Deutscher acknowledged the importance of his Jewish heritage. In defining his own Jewishness he stated: Religion? I am an atheist. Jewish nationalism? I am an internationalist. In neither sense am I therefore a Jew. I am, however, a Jew by force of my unconditional solidarity with the persecuted and exterminated. I am a Jew because I feel the pulse of Jewish history; because I should like to do all I can to assure the real, not spurious, security and self-respect of the Jews. (51)

To some extent this image might prove suitable to describe Bernstein and Vygotsky’s social positions. This entitles us to turn to the major question of our study: against what background of the history of ideas must we place Vygotsky and Bernstein’s theoretical contributions?

2.3  JEWISHNESS IN A SECULAR WORLD Keeping Jewish identity in the context of European culture meant, historically, to have the capacity to maintain a dynamic equilibrium between various and often antithetical elements. For the Jews this process implied facing the inner contradiction in balance between the desires of cancelling their socio-cultural difference and maintaining it. Vladimir Jankélévitch (1986) described the conflictual mobility of Jewish consciousness by identifying it with an attitude linked to a constant feeling of belonging “elsewhere.” Conversely, on certain occasions, the keeping of one’s identity for some Jews was the result of a previous negation, a trauma due to persecutions, war or religious discrimination. As these are historical events common to all Jews in Diaspora, we may assume that, to some extent, they also played a role in the lives of Vygotsky and Bernstein, albeit with respective differences to be linked to their cultural milieus. Despite the fact that Vygotsky lived in Russia at the time of the Soviet revolution, and Bernstein was born in Great Britain thirty years later, we can argue that both countries were characterized by social changes which deeply affected Jewish societies and the identities of their members.

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With regard to Vygotsky, even if he was born and educated in a traditional Jewish milieu, he was at the same time deeply inspired by Spinoza—an excomunicated Jew—and Marx. Nonetheless, he was considered by Russian authorities ”a bad Marxist,” an attribute implying that he was not perceived as being fully integrated into the ideology of the Soviet system. In outlining Vygotsky’s biography, Kozulin defined him as “a double outsider”: Vygotsky’s writings provide a special perspective—that of a “stranger” who, without belonging to the mainstream of Western psychology, was its astute observer and commentator. In a sense Vygotsky was even a double outsider, often misunderstood in his own country, he was for a long time neglected also by the West. (Kozulin 1990: 3)

Such a remark strongly echoes the double identity of the Jews of the Diaspora, referred to in previous passages of this section, as well as Simmel’s notion of Jews as “strangers” in society. Vygotsky was also violently exposed as a child and as a youth to fierce antisemitism, an attitude found frequently among the Russians during the Revolution. Being a very sensitive and intelligent young man, as described by his biographers (Van der Veer and Valsiner 1991), these experiences must have certainly left a mark, as he became sensitive towards topics such as Jewish history, antisemitism, and the historical fate of Judaism. Basil Bernstein was born of Jewish immigrant parents, and he most likely never considered himself one of the most typical expressions of “Britishness” (and he certainly was not). He was born in London to a Jewish family with parents who had emigrated to Great Britain, from Russia (his father) and the Netherlands (his mother). Most likely he received a religious education, but he did not show an interest in the Jewish religion in his adulthood. He was inspired by Durkheim and to a much lesser extent by Marx, linking his thinking to more secular visions of society which did not coincide with Orthodox Judaism. We assume that he must have been strongly aware of being a Jew and consequently of being exposed to some forms of social discrimination, given the fact that his parents had emigrated to England. For most immigrants, settling into a new country entails a redefinition of their identity, which is frequently associated with a strong sense of membership

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in a minority cultural group (Coelho 1998). The patterns of entire districts inhabited by specific ethnic groups is a well-known situation in London. Jews, Indians, or West Indians may be found in specific areas of the city. Besides, the long-standing population of big towns, having greater numbers of immigrants than in the country, often do not seem to have a high degree of contact with the immigrant population and show high levels of prejudice towards them (Volpato and Manganelli Ratazzi 2000). Marx and Durkheim were also of Jewish origin. They were writing at a time when Judaism in Europe was considered somehow an expression of a narrowlyfocused national spiritual life, not broad enough to assimilate the new universal values fermenting in the Western world. Nonetheless, they both offered a vision of society which was not only innovative and critical, but imbued with principles re-contextualized from Judaism (Strenski 1997; Sharf 1970). The fact that both Vygotsky and Bernstein identified to some extent with those authors indicates an affinity which may also be extended to the new and more open dialogue concerning the integration of Jews into civil society. This process is inevitably linked to a redefinition of the Jewish identity under new social conditions. In fact, the quest of Jewish identity became a common problem to many Jews, even if they lived under different social conditions. The dispute over what a Jew is has been reformulated in modern times, by great thinkers within the Jewish tradition, from Freud to Einstein, and by philosophers such as Marx, Bauer, and more recently Buber and Brenner. To consider this phenomenon from a psychological point of view entails maintaining a tension between an inner individual world identified with the Jewish traditional creed, and the external values of a broader sociological significance. This condition represents one of the major paradoxes regarding the formation of a Jewish identity in a modern secular world. While this process may indicate internal conflict, at the same time it may also generate the sort of dynamic and creative energy typical of individual members of minority groups. This argument can be reiterated in general terms by acknowledging that there is often a strong relationship between Jewish intellectualism and marginality or deviance from dominant values. These characteristics were found frequently among the Jews in Europe after the emancipation.

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These factors created an interior conflict in many Jews who had a certain “marrano attitude,” an expression coined by Poliakov (1970). This implies that they perceived reality, both internally and externally, exactly like the Spanish and Portuguese marranos, who were overtly Christians while remaining covertly Jews. Surely, the impact of the Enlightment on Diaspora Jews allowed the emergence of autonomy, which challenged the authorothy of tradition, providing individuals with subjective personal freedom. This freedom “also provides the possibility to be a maximal or minimal Jew, to do much or nothing, or anything in between” (Plaut 1989: 448). This dynamic attitude is also present in many aspects of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s respective works. Vygotsky’s notion of dialectic is a key concept characterizing all of his theory, while Bernstein directed his main efforts toward describing the role of consciousness to understand the processes of internalization. In so doing he acknowledged a tension between interiority and exteriority, with a constant dynamic process at work. However, particular types of external conditions do not necessarily coincide with a conscious sense of Jewishness. Therefore, in regard to Vygotsky and Bernstein, it is legitimate to ask whether they ever identified with Judaism, and if so to what extent and in what way. This raises another important issue, how the Jewish tradition may have influenced the secular values of society at large. According to Isaac Deutscher, impulses to transform society and the world were an extension of the yearning of the great Jewish Prophets and the messianic age for justice. These feelings somehow permeated the enthusiasm and innovativeness of these “Non-Jewish Jews,” as Deutscher defined them, including himself in the category (Deutscher 1968). A similar point needs to be raised regarding Jews who remained within their tradition. Some Jews who adhered to secular values under the impulses of egalitarian and liberalizing tendencies did so according to the principles of their halakhic tradition (literally “way of walking”), even though this process may not have touched their personal consciousness. For instance, Sidney Hook, in his analysis of American Jewish identity, declared:

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As I interpret Jewish culture, its noblest traditions have fused passion for social justice with respect for scientific method and knowledge. When Jews forsake this method, they forsake a precious part of their tradition. (Hook 1937: 273-88)

This may be true to some extent for Bernstein as well as for Vygotsky, but it is still a very indefinite and vague image that a secular Jew may ascribe to Judaism, and this social philosophy may well be primarily attributed to Gentiles. The problem must be viewed from a different point of view, not so much as a succession of ideas, but how those ideas are employed. We have already described how the strong presence of Jews in the new humanities (such as psychology, sociology, political economy) might be interpreted as evidence that, being a minority group, they often had difficulties in taking part in the official sciences. At the same time, they had a predisposition for delving into totally or partially unexplored fields. Without doubt, the situation of being an oppressed minority forced Jews to take part in projects geared towards social transformation and change, requiring a critical and innovative outlook on society and social facts. However, these social factors should also be linked to some inner dispositions acquired by Jews historically, transmitted socioculturally by their religious faith.

2.4  A JEWISH WELTANSCHAUUNG? Despite the fact that Jews in Diaspora lived in different social circumstances, there can be no doubt that the meaning of Judaism as a religious faith has also helped the Jews to think of themselves as a unified community. This implies that their faith has provided ethical norms and values that act as strong bonds of identification for all those who share these beliefs. This unity is somehow inherent in the nature of Judaism, which, at the same time, also shaped the way of life, as well as the mentality of Jews, despite their different locations in time and space. On these grounds Jewishness is not easily cancelled, as “to be Jewish is a fact which cannot disappear neither by secularization nor by conversion,” as stated by Jankélévitch (1986: 8).

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Referring to similar points, Martin Buber connected Jewishness to the following reasons: The spiritual process of Judaism manifests itself in history as the striving for an ever more perfect realization of three interconnected ideas. The idea of unity, the idea of the deed, and the idea of the future…. (Buber 1967: 40) These ideas are interconnected, they are, in fact, a unified entity within the people’s ethos, an entity to be sundered only for demonstration purposes, in order to show that, in history, at times one, at times another of these ideas is dominant. (41) The idea of unity and the tendency toward it inherent in the nature of the people originate in the fact that the Jew has at all times received more keenly the context in which phenomena appear than the individual phenomena as such. He sees the forest more truly than the trees, the sea more truly than the wave, the community more truly than the individual. He is therefore more inclined to pensiveness than to imagery, and for the same reason is also impelled to conceptualize the fullness of things even before he has wholly experienced it. But he does not stop with a concept; he is driven to press on to higher units—to a highest unit that sustains as well as crowns all concepts and binds them into one, just as the phenomena had been bound into a single concept. (42) But there is a second, deeper source for the Jew’s unitary tendency, the one I have already mentioned: the longing to rescue himself from his inner duality and raise himself to absolute unity. Both sources converge in the God-idea of the prophets. (42) Judaism’s second idea is that of the deed. This tendency, inherent in the ethos of the people, stems from the fact that the Jew is endowed with greater motor than sensory faculties; his motor system works more intensely than his sensory system. He displays more substance and greater personality in action than in apperception, and he considers what he accomplishes in life more important than what happens to him. It is for this reason, to give an example, that the Jew’s art is so rich in gesture, and that its expression is more specifically his own than its meaning-content. For this reason, too, he considers doing more essential than experiencing. Hence, even in antiquity, not faith but the deed was central to Jewish religiosity…. (44) The third tendency in Judaism is the idea of the future. This national trait stems from the fact that the Jew’s sense of time is much more strongly developed than his sense of space: the descriptive epithets of the Bible speak-in contrast, for instance, to those of Homer—not of form or color but of sound and movement. The artistic form of expression most satisfying to the Jew is the art whose specific element is time: music. And the interrelatedness of the generations is a stronger life-principle for him than the enjoyment of the

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present. His consciousness of peoplehood and of God is, essentially, nourished by his historical memory and his historical hope, the hope being the intrinsically positive and constructive element. And just as each of the three tendencies has its vulgar as well as its sublime aspect, just as the unity-ideas produced the conceptual constructs of rabbinism as well as the people’s great yearning for God, and the deed tendency led to soulless panritualism as well as to a holy will to unconditionality, so is it also with the future tendency. (49-50)

These lengthy quotations from Martin Buber intend to illustrate a paradigm for the inner characteristic of Jews seen from an internal perspective, as Buber was himself a Jew and a philosopher acting and studying within the tradition of Judaism. For these reasons his understanding of the principal characteristics of Judaism is attractive and worthy of reflection. Buber’s expositions suggests that certain relevant acts of doing, stemming from a particular ethos, that of Judaism, point to the development of culturally specific elements, which are reflected in the Weltanschauung of those who consider themselves part of the Jewish culture and tradition. A similar idea is expressed by Yerushalmi in describing the modern form of the psychological Jews. While outwardly assimilated, they display intellectuality and independence of mind, high ethical and moral standards, and concern for social justice in the face of persecution (Yerushalmi 1991). These are suggestive ideas, as they try to explain what a particular culture inculcates in its believers. However, at the same time, there is a lot they do not explain: for example, some of the Jewish characteristics described by Buber are also present in the personalities of many non-Jews and, similarly, not all Jews possess them. The process of secularization in modern societies, and the peculiar conditions of life superimposed upon Jews living in the Diaspora, have created new social conditions which have deeply modified the life of the Jewish people. Nevertheless, the absolute, abstract and transcendent conception of God in Judaism, its ideals of freedom and justice as universal values, its unitary vision of conscience associated with a constant effort at unifying multiple natural forces, constitute the basis capable of orientating thinking and feelings specific to Judaism which introduced them to Western civilization.

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By the same token, the habit of studying the sacred texts, which has never been abandoned, mediated a tendency to read and write, thus developing rationality and high level cognitive functions, even during the most obscure centuries of Jewish life in the ghettos (Di Castro 1992). Jews in the Middle Age were among the few who could read, write, keep accountancy, and speak many languages. The commandment to study the Torah for its own sake provided the means of understanding that the most valued skills to be learned and transmitted concerned refining one’s ability to use logical processes. Thus, information gathering, recourse to multiple sources, leading ultimately to conceptual precision, was constantly used for understanding and discussing the meaning of the Torah (Feuerstein 2002). The infusion of Jewish culture over centuries, and its fullfillment achieved through a study of its spiritual unity, has been interiorized and very often achieved in the work of great thinkers belonging to the Jewish people. To mention but a few: Einstein, whose studies postulated a unitary vision of the laws of a cosmic nature; Freud in his effort to unify Eros and Thanatos within the human psyche; the musical visions of Schoenberg and many others who, having been nurtured within Judaism, reproduced its ethos as they experienced it internally in their own lives and in their work. In this regard, Einstein wrote about Jewish ideals: The pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, an almost fanatical love of justice and the desire for personal independence—these are the features of the Jewish tradition which makes me thank my stars that I belong to it. (Einstein 1956: 103)

It is impossible not to link these remarks to the basic humanistic principles enunciated in the Torah. Most likely, this unitary vision of knowledge, combining rational analysis, social processes, emotions, and empathy, externalized as direct action and dialogic communication between people, gives rise to a high quality of transmission linked to the sacredness of life. This approach is often expressed in the works of many great Jewish thinkers whose conscious or unconscious efforts were meant to achieve a unitary vision in reality as well as within ourselves.

CHAPTER 3

Judaism: The Unifying Principles Antonella Castelnuovo

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n this chapter we will outline the main religious features of Judaism. These are by no means exhaustive as we have made a selection with respect to the great varieties of topics concerning Judaism and its values. In this respect, our selection of themes bears particular relevance to the founding principles of Judaism, which provide some empirical links to the sources and values which may have consciously or unconsciously inspired the works of Vygotsky and Bernstein. In particular, we will briefly introduce the Jewish principles as stated in the Torah, representing a central text of Jewish tradition providing the sources of the Jewish ethos.1 In our discussion, semantic and literal interpretations expressed in the Torah will be taken from traditional Jewish sources, stemming from rabbinical texts (Pirke’ avoth) written by ancient and modern thinkers such as Maimonides, Buber, Heschel, and from modern Jewish exegesis (N. Leibowitz 1972).

1 We are well aware that the entire corpus of Judaism is a much wider set of documentation developed through the centuries by scholars and rabbis, giving rise to the Talmud (rabbinical tradition) and the Midrash (oral tradition). Nevertheless, the Pentateuch remains the basic constitution for any past and modern doctrine expressed within Judaism.

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We believe that this approach is in tune with the mode of interpretation of sacred texts based on old and new Jewish traditions whereby the effort to understand the Hebrew Bible has always been univocal and multivocal at the same time (Blumenthal 1998: 468).2

3.1  JUDAISM AS A SYSTEM OF LIFE Judaism is a religious system with practices, beliefs, and social values indicating a way of life based on the commandments recorded in the writings of the Hebrew Bible, the Torah. Inquiring about the fundamental elements of Judaism, conceived as a religious culture, is not an easy task and may result in a futile enterprise if is not answered in terms of people’s life processes and the way in which these processes have changed over time and space, diachronically and synchronically. In explaining the synchronic process, on the assumption that many features concerning Judaism remained stable for long periods in biblical times, we will refer predominantly to the Torah or Tanakh,3 which in Hebrew means instruction. Traditionally, this book is not conceived as a piece of literature but as Scripture, a sacred text, demanding and setting up goals for human life in acceptance of the precepts and commandments stemming from Sinaitic tradition (N. Leibowitz 1972).4 The latter refers to the Pentateuch containing the five books of Moses, starting with the creation of the world, and ending with the last speeches of Moses before the Jewish people entered into the Land of Israel. Each of the five books of Moses has a specific characteristic. The book of Genesis is concerned with the creation of the world, including the many events concerning the story of Abraham and his descendents, who will become the people of Israel.

2 3 4

This implies that the word of God, which is univocal, has been interpreted in many different ways. Tanakh is an acronym standing for the words Torah, Nevi’im and Ketuvim, respectively Prophets and Writings. When referring to the Bible, here we refer to the Torah as the Hebrew Bible.

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The book of Exodus deals with the Israelites wandering in the desert before entering the Promised Land. During this lengthy process they received the Ten commandments by God through the intermediacy of Moses. The books of Leviticus and Numbers deal predominantly with laws, rituals, and obligations, while the last book of the Torah, Deuteronomy, conveys Moses’s speeches at the end of his life and mission before the Israelites enter the Promised Land. Despite dealing with different historical events, all the books of the Torah are mainly concerned with a common fundamental aspect: the dynamic relationships between God and his people Israel. This is sealed by the covenant berit, an agreement between equals whose awareness is transmitted to present and future members of the collectivity. Such a covenant, initiated with Abraham and sealed with his circumcision, has from the very beginning been extended to the whole community of Israel. The evolving relationship of the covenant is sealed again by Moses on Mount Sinai. It appears the story of the rapport between humans and the Divine is deeply interwoven with the history of the people of Israel, which must be understood as a collective history binding the single individual into a religious community. The covenant between Israel and God develops in the context of present and future generations, remaining constant in time and space. By virtue of specific ties, the connection between humans and the Divine takes place through a dialogue whereby God asks and commands, while the Israelites respond with their actions. This process can occur by virtue of an act of decision on both sides as clearly stated by Milley: Yahweh had decided for his people, Israel, in turn, must decide for Yahweh. The relationship rested on free choice—Yahweh had chosen Israel and Israel has chosen Yahweh. (Milley 1959: 11)

This mutual connection transcends the realm of nature to enter onto the plane of culture, implying a voluntary act of acceptance whereby both parties are willing to enter. The free choice of the Israelites is further acknowledged and sealed by the fact that this relationship is realized through religious acts which distinguish Israel from the surrounding people. These acts result in a body of laws or commandments which the Jews have to observe and respect as imitatio Dei, as Israel should be for God “a

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kingdom of priests, and an holy nation” (Exodus 19:6). This includes the observance of the mitzvoth, a systematic body of practices regarding several interrelated matters holding together and shaping a specific religious pattern regarding Jewish principles and ideology. These include rituals, festivities, and collective memories, combined in a unitary vision. Jewish monotheism, in fact, is based on a striving for unity (Buber 1967), and the prescription of not making idols representing visible objects, nor any statue or picture, is in total accordance to the attribute of the invisible God, the only and unique creator of life and of the whole universe. Similarly, this prescription is conveyed through an invisible medium of expression of abstract and intangible symbols, such as signs and words. In this way, the Torah conveys precise instructions regulating the relationship with the Divine as well as the relationship between men. Both these aspects are meant to shape and prepare the Jews to realize their own mission, and to fulfill their ethical role within humanity. In this perspective, the Torah should be conceived as a book of instruction and legislation whereby human life is treated in many aspects in a holistic way, according to the principle stated in the covenant between Israel and God. 3.1.1 Cosmology

The universal theme in Genesis starts with the creation of the world, defined as “Beriat olam,” implying at the same time the act of creation but also its object, the world, and everything which is in it. Unlike other myths of creation for which matter pre-existed in a form of chaos, according to Judaism, matter itself has been created and this originally contained all the created world. In fact, the expression “tohou va vohou” (Genesis 1:2), referring to the earth which in the beginning was unformed and void, does not imply to original chaos. For this reason, creation is considered a very good one, a marvelous gift whose original form was already complete in its deep essence. The Genesis narrative illustrates that creation takes place by means of separations: starting from distinguishing between day and night, finishing with the Sabbath day to be separate from the rest of the week days. God defines each set of separation as “good” treating the act and its attributes almost as synonymous (Samuelson 2003: 53). Jewish scholars believed that God created the world for the sake of the Torah which is called “in the beginning of His way” (Proverbs 8:22).

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According to Rashi (1040-1105), one of the most outstanding medieval commentators of the Bible, all of Genesis with the sky and the earth represents the frame within which man is placed to work. In particular, Abraham represents the prototype of man at the service of God, having gone through ten challenges before arriving at Mount Moriah (Midrash Genesis Rabba’ 12:8). Similarly, another interpretation (Samuelson 2003) claims that the structure of initial creation, with seven sets of separations starting with the heaven and the earth, to end up with the distinction between the Sabbath from the other days (Genesis 2:3), is to fulfill a divine order linking the entire universe and humanity to the final goal of worshipping of the people of Israel in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Historically, the ancient Israelites were worshipping God by offering animal sacrifices in the Temple of Jerusalem, a rite which disappeared after its destruction. However, the dynamic theme common to all these commentaries is that there is a cohesiveness and continuity from the story of creation to that of the Jewish nation, whose role is to continue God’s creation within humanity. Biblical exegesis has speculated on the role of the whole of creation, and in particular on the role of man with respect to the created world, and tried to find such reason from the exegesis of the words. In the story of creation, the first term which appears in the Torah is: “In the beginning” (Genesis 1:1), in Hebrew, Bereshit. To initiate the world of creation with the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet, bet, means that the world is characterized by the contrapositions symbolized by the duality of this letter such as life, death, good, evil, light, and darkness, but it must strive to reach the unity symbolized by the first letter of the alphabet, aleph (Brunetti-Luzzatti and Della Rocca 2007: 121). This letter is also the first to appear in the words of God pronounced before declaring the Ten commandments. “Anochi,” I am, as stated: “I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:1). The root of the word olam, world, is alum, hidden, and may signify that the purpose of man in the world is to search for truth, emèt, which according to the Midrash God had put in the soil so that men could cultivate it with his own tools (Brunetti Luzzati and Della Rocca 2007: 120).

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In fact, from the book of Genesis it appears that man holds a special position with respect to animals as well as to all the rest of creation, as it is written: And God said: Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. And God created man in His own image, in the image of God created He him, male and female created He them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

The importance of man in the Jewish tradition is due to the fact that, being created in the image of God, he is a co-partner in the realization of the divine will on earth (Heschel 1951; N. Liebowitz 1972). However, in this partnership he cannot fulfill his task alone. The second account of the creation of man, which is a recapitulation of the first (Genesis 2:1-25), speaks of the dwelling on the creation of the two sexes, male and female, as separate entities. The expression “it is no good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18) is interpreted as the need for the division of labor and partnership, as according to this interpretation no real life can exist without these two elements (Yevamot 63a, quoted by N. Liebowitz 1972: 11). In this respect, Genesis offers the Jewish answer to the human condition, as this book is not only a cosmological description of God’s creation but also represents man’s task by virtue of his positioning in the world and in front of God (Y. Leibowitz 1995). As it were, the underlying principles of the Jewish cosmology are expressed through systems of separation that allow the structure of the world to be placed in order through polarized oppositions. Within this system man holds a special position not as an isolated being, but engaged in a set of relationships with others and with God. 3.1.2  The Concept of History

Judaism is a religion celebrating time, not conceived in a linear dimension but on a cyclic one. In Hebrew the word “history” is translated as “generations”— toledot. This is a very different conception than the Western concept of history, stemming from the Greek tradition. In fact, Jewish identity from its very beginning is celebrated by the concept of time whereby history is a set of collective memories to be passed on from one generation to the next.

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Man and his dwellings are conceived in the process of time, which constitute his history and that of the entire world. Thus: The religious drama of Judaism does not take place between man and nature; it takes place between man and his fellow-man. In other words, the predicament and commensurate to this the salvation are anchored in the social dimension and not in nature, and correspondingly, therefore, God is encountered primarily not in nature but in history (seeing that it is history and not nature which is constituted by the social, political and economic relations between man and his fellow-man). Thus, it is history and not nature which constitutes the matrix in which the religious drama unfolds. In brief, Judaism is not a “nature religion.” (Vogel 1979)

With Adam and Eve’s departure from the Garden of Eden, historical time becomes a reality whereby a return to the past becomes impossible. In fact, with the expulsion from Eden, man leaves the realm of nature to enter the realm of history, which opens up a new path of communication and interaction between God and man (Moltmann 1985: 206-14). While the story of creation with Adam and Eve concerns humankind in general, the history of the Jewish people starts with the patriarch Abraham and a verb of dynamic movement, Lech leckha: Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house. (Genesis 12:1)

This order implies a process of emigration, standing metaphorically for the image of homo viator. The Jewish tradition describes the human experiences of nomadism, exodus, pilgrimage, and the return from exile as universal symbols of human existence. In fact, the Abrahamite man, Jew, in Hebrew ivri’, is a process of crossing over, a constant movement as someone who goes from one world to another. So Abraham’s faith overcame the realm of nature to enter the realm of culture and history. With his act of faith, Abraham set up a motion of faith in God throughout history. As a matter of fact, Israel’s covenant with God is characterized by two stories of migration: that of Abraham and Sarah from Mesopotamia, and that of Moses and the Israelites from Egypt. For this reason history has a dominant role, as divine intervention and God’s remembrance of His people are

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conceived in terms of generations, as He is the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. In Judaism, historical movement is not conceivable without a community, as history in the Jewish tradition is related to a group and not only to the individual. Thus when God refers to Abraham in connection to the story of Sodoma and Gomorra, He points to his role as transmitter to future generations: And the Lord said: “Shall I hide from Abraham that which I am doing; seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I have known him, to the hand that he may command his children and his household after him, that they may keep the way of the Lord, to do righteousness and justice; to the end that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which He hath spoken of him? (Genesis 18:17-19)

From these verses it appears that God chose Abraham for a precise role: passing on his divine experience to his children and future generations. Similarly, in the time of Moses, God reveals himself as the God of the fathers: And God said unto Moses: “I AM THAT I AM”; and He said: “Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel: I AM hath sent me unto you.” And God said moreover unto Moses: “Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel: the Lord, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, hath sent me unto you; this is My name for ever, and this is My memorial unto all generations. Go and gather the elders of Israel together, and say unto them: the LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, hath appeared unto me, saying: I have surely remembered you, and seen that which is done to you in Egypt.” (Exodus 3:14-16)

The historical dimension of God’s relationship to the Jewish people is a constant theme in Judaism which must be understood in the view of God’s special ties with Israel. People represent the human instrument to accomplish the divine plan in the whole world. In this endeavor, God’s plan must be fulfilled along a particular ethnic line, that of Abraham and his descendents. However, this does not exclude the universal scope of the divine view regarding salvation of all mankind (H. Goldberg 2010: 290).

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3.1.3  Holiness and Separation

Jewish monotheistic faith is expressed in the Torah through the most important prohibition for the Jews, that of making idols for themselves. This is the most important precept which regulate the line of conduct for the people of Israel, based on the faith of the unique, immutable, invisible God. As God is invisible, the Jewish people must behave according to His invisible attributes such as that of being holy, in Hebrew qadòsh. And the LORD spoke unto Moses, saying: “Speak unto all the congregation of the children of Israel, and say unto them: Ye shall be holy; for I the LORD your God am holy.” (Leviticus 19:1-2)

In the Torah, holiness presupposes separation between the pure and the impure, the clean from the unclean, as God said: And ye shall be holy unto Me, for I the LORD am holy, and have set you apart from the peoples, that ye should be Mine. (Leviticus 20:26)

However, what does it mean to be holy? God’s sanctification of Israel is preceded by an act of separation of His people from other nations. This separation creates an exclusive rapport with God as He is also committed not to have other people: “And I will set my Tabernacle among you, and My soul shall not abhor you. And I will walk among you, and will be your God and you shall be My people.” (Leviticus 26:11-12)

According to Bernard Och (1995), the verse of Leviticus 20:26 implies that the separation of Israel from other people has a cosmic importance, reminiscent of the initial separation of chaos from order in the first act of creation. Och states: Sanctified by acts of distinction and separation, the people of Israel assume the role which was originally assigned to humanity at creation. The image of God corrupted by countless acts of disobedience and violence is now reinstated in the life of a people created by God for this specific purpose. (1995: 237)

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The process of sanctification bears a particular significance in the Jewish tradition which often explores deep meanings through textual exegesis. On the basis of the original meaning of the word qadòsh, ancient scholars interpreted Leviticus 19:2 to mean that “to be holy” implies being perushìm (separate), as God is parùsh. In seeking to explain the concept of separation, the Torah set up basic principles which start in the world of nature to be mirrored in humans and to be carried out in the essence of the Jewish people. The Sabbath is holy as it is a separate day from the other profane days of the week, as it is dedicated to spiritual matters. The essence of the commandment of avoiding any type of work on that day constitutes a barrier, a strong boundary between Sabbath and the other days of the week, which stresses and reinforces their differences. In this way the sabbath is one of the signs of covenant between God and Israel, and for this reason post-biblical rabbinical Scriptures codified its positive meanings as well as the restrictions implied on this day (H. Goldberg 2010). The act of separation is extended to many acts of Jewish life, linked to the concept of holiness. Holiness implies a limitation of one’s needs and immediate actions, to shape aspects of behavior concerning different aspect of life. These regard the dietary laws, kashrut, concerning the animals that can be eaten and those that are forbidden; the weaving of cloth; sexual behavior, providing a list of sexual intercourse forbidden to a male, not only including relatives who belong to the same family, but also men and animals. The principle of classification regulating these different spheres is connected to the principle of distinction between pure and impure, chaos and order, paralleling the separation of Israel from the other nations. This close relationship implies a mutual bond whereby God is also solely committed to his people Israel, as His Divinity is not realized without the witness of Israel: “You are my witnesses, declares the Lord, and I am God” (Isaiah 43:12). Thus, the creation of a holy identity for the people of Israel represents somehow a God counterpart, a necessary condition to bridge the gap between the Divine and humanity. Such a covenant implies the creation of specific conditions which regulate the everyday existence of Jews which are directed not to remove or repress their biological needs but to set the permitted limits whereby such needs may be transformed from natural into cultural acts.

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3.1.4  The Idea of the Community and the Just Society

Many biblical precepts must be understood in the light of socio-economic organization of the Jewish society at the time. The structure of biblical society was based on tribal lines, to be evolved in a monarchy once the Israelites entered into the Promised land, while the nuclear and the extended family remained the constant units in all periods of Jewish history (H. Goldberg 2010). An extended family, in Hebrew beit av, according to Goldberg includes: a man and his wife (occasionally wives), their unmarried daughters and their sons (both unmarried and married), and the children and even grandchildren of their sons. This multigenerational structure is probably reflected in the image that God will bring retribution upon those who worship other Gods “unto the third or fourth generation” while preserving grace (hesed) “for thousands [of generations]” (Exodus 20:5-6). (292-93)

While these structures often evolved, the Torah description of society also acknowledges the existence of social differences among the Jewish people. Different classes of men with different economical possibilities are acknowledged as part of the variety and complexity of social structure. However, the many prescriptions directed towards helping the less fortunate members of that community clearly suggest that attention and concern should be paid to the weakest members of society. This because social justice is a strong concept in the Bible and poverty and economic subjection are considered injustices. Judaism is a religion of people who were kept in slavery and aiming at redemption even from the economic point of view (Sacks 2003). An injustice is a condition which should not occur, and which could be somehow modified if others try to put it right. In so doing, one could somehow establish a certain degree of equality and fairness among the group as well as moral identification with others as everybody is involved in a wider national welfare system. From this perspective, social justice is also a question of moral identity as it implies respect for the values of each distinctive sphere of life and of social conditions. In Exodus it is explicitly stated that Jews have to obey all the laws in order to keep the Book of the Covenant. These are called mishpatim (Exodus 21;

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22:16). Among them the first set concerns the power of state over the individual and the jurisdiction of law courts. The second set is rather different (Exodus 22:17; 23:19). It is called devarim, ”the commands” that are social, ethical, and moral prescriptions regulating the standards that control human behavior according to divine will. These are not enforced by institutional law but by individual conscience, and particular attention is devoted to unfortunate people or the weakest of society. In the Torah, the mentioning of poor people appears for the first time in Exodus, in the chapters dealing with civil rights and penal rights (Exodus 22-24). By stressing the importance of this concept, rabbis pointed out that the Hebrew language has eight words to indicate the attribute “poor” which are evjòn, dal, ani’, rash, dakh, makh, chélekh, and miskèn, each of which designates a specific type of suffering. These complex linguistic classifications indicate great attention and concern for the poor, as many Torah commandments are oriented to diminish their suffering. This fundamental inequality is interrupted occasionally by Jewish legislation, which constantly restores a social equilibrium by weakening the static character of social injustice every seven years (Buber 1967). Thus, it is commanded that in the seventh year all debts must be cancelled and slaves freed, and the land property must be restored to its original self in the fiftieth year. In addition, poor people were given the right to claim a portion of the harvest: And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the corner of thy field, neither shalt thou gather the gleaning of thy harvest. And thou shalt not glean thy vineyard, neither shalt thy gather the fallen fruit of thy vineyard, thou shalt leave them for the poor and for the stranger: I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 9:9-10)

Again, the same principle of concern is expressed towards the widow and the orphan who find themselves in a weak and suffering condition: Ye shall not afflict any widow, or fatherless child. If thou afflict them in any way—for if they cry at all unto Me, I will surely hear their cry. (Exodus 22:21-22)

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Similarly, great respect should be due to physically impaired people: Thou shalt not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling-block before the blind, but thou shalt fear thy God: I am the Lord. (Leviticus 19:14)

It is also interesting to point out that the word for charity, zedaqàh, also means justice. Justice is a very important concept in Judaism, as human actions must be done as imitatio Dei, as God loves acts of goodness (Psalm 9:7). However, while Torah expresses particular sensitivity towards the poor and the oppressed, by no means should zedaqàh be observed at expense of justice. The poor and the rich should be treated in equal terms in the eyes of the law: Ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment; thou shalt nor respect the person of the poor, nor favour the person of the mighty; but in righteousness shalt thou judge they neighbour. (Leviticus 19:15)

Finally, particular importance is given to respect for strangers as such condition must be remembered by the Jews as they too have been strangers and slaves in Egypt. As it is written: And a stranger shalt thou not oppressed; for ye know the heart of a stranger, seeing ye were strangers in the land of Egypt. (Exodus 23:9)

With respect to family relationships, the widow and the orphans should not be abused: If you do mistreat them, I will heed their outcry to Me, and My anger shall blaze forth and I will put you the sword, and your own wives shall become widows and your children orphans. (Exodus 22:21-23)

All these commandments refer to behavior, which also implies emphatic feelings of identification, providing ethical meanings to those acts for the entire collectivity of Israel. The idea is that behind these laws Jews should shape their humanities by reducing indifference towards the less fortunate members of their community. At the same time, they should contribute to building a more equal society by reducing differences between themselves.

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3.1.5  Universalism and Particularism

The biblical emphasis to the Jewish people on being distinct and diverse from others points out that Judaism highly values differentiation and diversification, unlike other creeds such as Christianity or Islam. By standing apart, the community of the people of Israel will be able to fulfill its moral obligations through the singularity of biblical ethics. However, at the same time, the Torah stresses that God is not only the God of Israel but of all humanity. He is the God of creation who set the first covenant with Noah, and only later with the Fathers of Israel, Abraham and Moses. Besides, it is written in the sacred texts that Redemption brought to the world by the coming of the Messiah concerns “the pious of the nations [who all] have a share in the world to come” (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Teshuvah, 3:5). Thus Judaism is a doctrine that does not claim to have the only exclusive path of salvation, like Christianity or Islam. In fact it combines within its religious monotheism both particularism and universalism. On this issue, Sacks says that the Torah firstly describes the world and its creation as universal humanity and only later starts to narrate the particular history of the Jewish people and their covenant with God. He states: “The God of the Israelites is the God of all mankind, but the demands made of the Israelites are not asked of all mankind” (Sacks 2003:52; emphasis in original). It is interesting to point out that the divine call of Abraham, with its dynamic aspects, implies a dual function: the first being “characterised by an extreme particularism, placing a barrier between Abraham and the rest of the world” (N. Leibowitz 1972: 112), the second large universalism. In fact, it is written: And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great, and be thou a blessing. (Genesis 12:2)

These two apparently contradictory aspects, particular and universal, remain constant attributes concerning the role that the people of Israel had to fulfill in their election by God and in their example for all mankind. To Sacks this means that Judaism is a rather complex faith that acknowledges “the dual nature of our moral situation” (Sacks 2003: 57). He thus implies that we are all

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members of the universal family, together with all mankind, bound to the Noahide covenant. However, at the same time: we are also members of a particular family with its specific history and memory. We are part of a “thick” or context bound morality represented, in Judaism, by the Abrahamic and Mosaic covenants, which confers on us loyalties and obligations to the members of our community that go beyond mere justice. We have duties to our parents and children, friends and neighbours, and to the members of society considered as an extended family. (Ibid.)

Sacks highlights a very important issue, that of a particularistic approach in Judaism which, at the same time, does not exclude universalism. Thus, collectively, the people of Israel stand apart and distinguish their role which fulfills separation and particularity but at the same time also advocates universalism.

3.2  THE JEWISH MODE OF CULTURAL TRANSMISSION In examining the Torah and its precepts we find no mention of the command to believe in God or to have faith in a religious way. Indeed, these two precepts are superfluous for Judaism. Faith cannot be conceived solely as a religious creed, as this designation may create the misconception that it occupies only a part of the life of the Jews, thus constituting an accessory element to their individuality. On the contrary, Judaism is conceived as a system of life completely permeated by the Divine, its essential element which must be learned, taught, and transmitted in a particular way. In this view, Judaism makes use of tools, signs, symbols, and actions to mediate inner competences and spirituality, whose holistic features should tend towards the achievement of holiness in the people of Israel. As a result, the Jewish faith is never an isolated belief, but must be realized by actions expressed in terms of the mitzvoth, the 613 precepts stated in the Torah which regulate the life of the Jews. In this light, the meaning of teaching of the precepts, mizvoth, aims to build a higher moral consciousness in the individual and in the community. In fact, ceremonial mizvoth, conceived as laws and obligations, establish a unifying bond between the Jewish people and presupposes implementation

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through community relations. A community is essential also in Jewish liturgy performed in synagogues, where the presence of a quorum of at least ten adults is required (minyan). One of the problems of Jewish scholars is that of defining the meanings of the mitzvoth as the Torah does not mention the reasons or the aims which they were meant to fulfill. Professor Leon Roth from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, in a lecture given in 1936 commemorating Ahad Ha-Am, stated that the mitzvoth aim to purify and refine the Jews’ spiritual and inner capacities but they have to be interpreted in an holistic way. Their philosophy is based on a coherent system which is intended to build the whole edifice and not only a part of it. Similarly, Elia Benamozegh (1823-1900) claimed that biblical precepts have an absolute value as it is said in the Kabbalah. For this reason they will be effective independently from the will of the person who puts them in practice. Thus, they have to be considered an absolute necessity, an eternal and universal cosmic need (Benamozegh 2000). Finally, Maimonides (11381204) considered the precepts as means and tools to achieve moral education. He pointed out a fundamental truth in Judaism, which is ultimately a way of life, aiming to educate people towards ethical principles and self regulation. Petuchowski, a modern Jewish scholar, defines mitzvoth as follows: Mizwoth [sic] comprise definite moral imperatives, a regimen of self discipline, the poetry of daily living, the commemoration of events in a common history, and a distinctive style of living, both moral and ritual, by which the members of the “congregation of the children of Israel” were able to recognize one another as brethren, and by which others, outsiders, were able to recognize the members of “the congregation of the children of Israel” as such. (Petuchowski 1981: 439)

In Judaism’s mode of transmission, the interactional quality of the rapport between God and the community of Israel requires an equal reflection. First and foremost, the listening-speaking paradigm is chosen as a mode of communication between God and the children of Israel. Semantically, both hearing and speaking through a voice are multidirectional processes capable of being received simultaneously by a multitude of people (Feuerstein 2002: 167). The Torah, on every occasion, narrates the dual nature of

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this process as God constantly addresses man and is also addressed by humans. This dual pattern, in fact, elevates man to the highest level of human existence, as the individual is fully and freely responsible to accept, discuss, or refuse the divine instructions. It is precisely in this conception of human life that the message of Judaism and the specific role of the people of Israel must be understood. In this respect, Martin Buber is highly explicatory when he states: In the biblical conception of existence, God addresses the human person and the human people with a view to what shall be, what shall be realized through this person, through this people. This means than man is placed in freedom and that every hour in which he, in his current situation, feels himself to be addressed is an hour of genuine decision… It is from here that the great biblical phenomenon of prophecy must be understood. The essential task of the prophets of Israel was not to foretell an already determined future, but to confront man and people in Israel, at each given moment, with the alternative that corresponded to the situation. It was announced not what would happen under any circumstances, but what would happen if they refused themselves to its realization. (Buber 1967: 219)

Thus, according to Buber, the dialogical nature of the man-God encounter is not fulfilled only by the exchange of words and the understanding between the two partners, but its deep function implies man’s responsibility in responding to a divine address. From this perspective, the role of the mitzvoth in preparing individuals to bear such a responsibility in their everyday life, duties, and fulfillments is more clear. Mitzvoth must be observed as to improve the individual to become a better person living and working within the community This factor leads us to a final reflection which is bound to the nature of the covenant, the key concept in Judaism linking Jews not only to God but also to their fellow men in a bond of belonging to a whole family. The collectivity in Judaism is an essential element not only in worship but also in developing one’s identity as it represents the We/Thou dimension allowing the discovery of the I (Buber 1961). This point is well illustrated from an example in Genesis. In the episode of the creation of the woman, Adam, seeing her, says: “This is now bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, she shall be called woman [ishah] because she was taken from man [ish]” (Genesis 2:23).

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In interpreting this verse Sacks provides a philosophical interpretation by stating as follows: Adam (meaning, taken from the earth, adamah) signifies man, the biological species. Ish means roughly the same as the English word “person.” The subtle point of the biblical text is that this verse is the first in which the word ish appears. Adam must pronounce the name of his wife before he can pronounce his own. He must say “Thou” before he can say “I.” (Sacks 2003: 151)

Sacks here makes the point that Judaism conceives of reaching one’s identity as a result of interacting with others. This is an essential pre-condition to become oneself. In this respect, Judaism does not embrace Descartes’s famous saying, “I think therefore I am.” On the contrary, it claims that self identity as well as language, learning, and knowledge originate from a covenantal relationship, a metaphor for the complex set of rapport through which man can learn and develop the grammar and syntax of reciprocity and trust. In Judaism, it is only within the community of men that the individual can find his own separate identity.

3.3  THE BIBLE AS A NARRATIVE GENRE In this section, we will explore some features of the Bible as a literary text. We will make reference to its literary style when compared with Bernstein’s concepts of sociolinguistic codes. The biblical text is of a composite nature presenting an interweaving of literary art with theological, moral, and historical aspects (Alter 2011: 20). Therefore, it should not to be regarded only as an ensemble of theological essays, but rather a collection of narrated stories relevant to the Jewish faith, based on moral ethics developed synchronically and diachronically. Biblical discourse expressed through its narrative, which has been assembled as a collection of works spread over seven or eight centuries, depends inevitably on linguistic fashions which changed over time. Because of this, it is not possible to define its textual integrity, as small pieces of the text which were introduced to a story often bear only an intermittent relation to the whole narration (Alter 2011). The Hebrew text was originally transmitted orally, even if nowadays we are acquainted only with a written text which still bears traces of orality left in the

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textualization, for instance, in the book of Leviticus (Bark 1999: 202). Furthermore, the ambiguities within the text set the scholars to expand new meanings in addressing the stories of the Bible, thus creating the oral tradition called Midrash, coming from the Hebrew lidrosh, to ask, to search, to explain, to demand. In this way, one can address the Torah as an open text in which different types of meanings have their methodological significance, each carrying a legal force within the Jewish tradition. It is often argued that the Bible is not an epic literary work (Alter 2011), and has no metaphorical tendencies, but is dominated by metonymy, that is, the linking of things through contact rather than through likeness (29). The Bible perceived as a narrative genre presents God’s autobiography, narrated through the autobiography of the people of Israel, with whom He has established the covenant. As the text represents stories which we can still identify with today, they give rise to an inter-textual dialogue between reader and writer as “de te fabula narratur”as we are present in those stories (Levi della Torre 1994: 38). These stories provide a meaningful framework which we can still fully relate to today. The biography of Israel starts with patriarchal tales (Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob), representing a cycle of mainly historical importance as they tell of the first moments in the history of the people of Israel. Thus, these stories can be seen as a family saga, a sub-genre of narrative mainly describing one family, that of Abraham and his offspring. Significant events occur where the actions of the main characters become the prototypes for defining the moral meaning, which becomes the model for the Israelites. The actions and events of the biblical characters stem from everyday activities and the common practices of their community. Thus, the Bible stories are concerned with developing a collective and personal identity in the light of religious ethical principles. The meaning underlying the actions of prophets, priests, Levites, and scribes must also be considered relevant to their religious landscapes and different historical contexts. Consequently, the Bible can be seen as a narration for the formation of a Jewish identity and consciousness, collective and individual, achieved by means of mediated interaction between man and God. According to Alter, the ancient Hebrew writer(s) used a certain innovative technique of fiction to produce a certain indeterminacy of meaning, with

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respect to motive, moral character, and psychology of biblical characters. To Alter: Meaning, perhaps for the first time in narrative literature, was conceived as a process, requiring continual revision—both in the ordinary sense and in the etymological sense of seeing—again—continual suspension of judgement, weighting of multiple possibilities, brooding over gaps in the information provided. (2011: 12)

Such indeterminacy in details was also described by Auerbach in his examination of the Bible as a literary text. Auerbach was a distinguished Jewish scholar who examined key texts from main works of Western literature, demonstrating how they were constructed as examples of authentic everyday discourse in their respective contexts. In his book Mimesis (1946), Auerbach pointed out that the Hebrew Bible, in expressing moral teaching, offers a less detailed simplicity. Biblical meanings, when compared to classical texts, not only display a consistency of style but also a consistency of form, especially when describing characters. So, it appears that many passages of bibical text are quite criptic and concise, even if these characteristic are not a constant, as distinctions must be made in terms of different authors and periods, affecting the textual requirements (Alter 2011: 18). However, overall, biblical stories show an anthitetical mode of presentation of characters when compared to other ancient works, such as the Odyssey by Homer. Greater conciseness and lack of personal description are the modalities of representing reality in the stories of Genesis. As biblical writers are more concerned with how individual characters respond to actions rather than with the actions themselves, direct speech is the predominant form of discourse, taking on the form of contrastive dialogue conveyed through two counter-posing exchanges between two speakers. Thus speech in the Bible is identifiable with social relationships and indicates the inner quality of speakers.5 Even in considering the Bible as a literary work, one should not 5 Even word meaning is not constant, but fluctuates according to context and circumstances. Thus, for instance, in Genesis, the word of God in Hebrew, davar, in the process of creation, has a double function of proclaiming and performing, at the same time, what it has uttered. Here the signified and the signifier coincide as a word proclaims the thing and the object it represents through it. This conception is gradually transformed as the relationship between

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neglect its religious character, which is based on complex and psychological realism. As God’s purposes are dependent on the acts of individuals and the way they respond to His messages, according to Alter: To scrutinize biblical personages as fictional characters is to see them more sharply in the multifaceted, contradictory aspects of their human individuality, which is the biblical God’s chosen for His experiment with Israel and history. (13)

Hence, in biblical narrative, meaning is predominantly conveyed through interpersonal exchanges between different characters and dialogue is the arena of their negotiation. In conclusion, other perspectives on the Bible as literacy may provide many different views as obviously there has been a considerable amount of scholarly research in this field in recent years. For the purpose of this study we want to consider Alter’s points of view when he claims: Almost the whole range of biblical narrative, however, embodies the basic perception that man must live before God, in the transforming medium of time, incessantly and perplexingly in relation with others; and a literary perspective on the operations of narrative may help us more than any other to see how this perception was translated into stories that have had such a powerful, enduring hold on the imagination. (24).

We assume that the view on man expressed in biblical narrative may help us to find a parallelism with Vygotsky and Bernstein’s humanistic perspectives.

3.4  SUMMARY OF JUDAISM’S BASIC PRINCIPLES In our brief outline of the principles of Judaism and the ways in which it ensures cultural transmission, needed to preserve its culture, we will summarize the keys points that emerged from our review. These principles are meant as ultimate goals to educate the Jewish people, to transcend their nature to fulfill social obligations, and commitment sealed by the covenant with God. God and his creation unfolds. As in Biblical narrative the shaping of the Jewish identity and consciousness is indissolubly bound to people’s relationships with God, any change in the type of relationships between God and Man brings about changes within its semantic perspective.

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A synthesis of the general principles of Judaism and more specific ones concerning cultural transmission and education will provide the possibility to highlight the empirical grounds for our comparison and parallelism with Vygotsky and Bernstein’s theories. If these principles will be found in their works, it means that Judaism has survived in the minds and souls of these two scholars. • Cosmology with its basic assumptions conceives creation as both structure and process, composed by substance molded by God. • Organization of the world emphasizing relationships by mean of separation and classification. • Social structure conceived as the right society, subject to change by man’s actions striving for justice. • History as conceived as generational continuity in the explanation of events. • Jewish identity as collective memories over individual ones. • Jewish faith as particular to achieve universalism.

Mediation and Education • • • •

Education as inter-generational cultural transmission. Different types of mediated knowledge. Speech and hearing to mediate with the invisible God. The study of Torah mediating abstract and mental functions.

CHAPTER 4

The Jewish Influence in Vygotsky’s Life and Ideas1 Bella Kotik-Friedgut

L

ev Semionovich Vygotsky, the psychologist widely recognized throughout the the twenty-first century world as one of the foremost theoreticians of childhood development, is often described as one who was far ahead of his time, but in fact he was a man of his country and his time (Rosa and Montero 1992: 59). While this may appear to be a shallow truism, applicable to each and every one of us, it is particularly fitting for an appraisal of Vygotsky, who, from his adolescence, displayed a keen appreciation of cultural and historical factors, and eventually wove them into his own theory of human development. In addition, the locale and the period in which Vygotsky grew up were complex and dynamic. He was born into an actively Jewish intelligentsia family in the Russian Empire at the peak of its Silver Age of culture, and into an autocracy caught up in a whirlpool of revolutionary violence and regime brutality, reform, and reaction and repeated unsuccessful wars that led to the ultimate downfall of the regime. To understand Vygotsky we must take into account the total complex of his closer and further environments, 1

In this chapter, with the kind permission from the publisher, we use materials from the paper by Bella Kotik-Friedgut and Theodore H. Friedgut, “A Man of His Country and His Time: Jewish Influences on the Personality and Outlook of Lev Semionovitch Vygotsky,” History of Psychology, vol. 11, no. 1 (2008): 15-39.

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and the changing nature of these environments. We may call this, if you will, a systemic-dynamic approach to the understanding of Vygotsky, as it is a framework which we believe that he, and certainly his colleagues and pupils, would have approved. One additional point remains to be clarified before we get into the substance of our analysis. Why examine Vygotsky’s Jewishness and its role in forming his consciousness? Certainly it is not to claim that Jewishness dominates his history or the development of Vygotsky’s science and culture. As will be shown later, Vygotsky specifically denied such an approach, refuting Dostoevsky’s use of Vladimir Solov’ev’s accusation that Jews generally regarded themselves as the axis around which the entire universe and all of human history revolved.2 There are two central reasons for our discussion. The first reason is that Vygotsky’s Jewishness was an integral part of his early life and identity. He embraced it wholeheartedly, absorbing Jewish language, history, philosophy, and culture, alongside those of Russia and of the world, and as we shall show, Jewish cultural elements found expression in his work throughout his career. David Joravsky, doyen of the scholars studying Russian and Soviet science, expressed a sharp awareness of both the importance and thorniness of the question of ethnic or class identity, writing: “We are entering a field of sensibilities that are maddeningly vague, yet powerful” ( Joravsky 1989b: 69). Regarding Vygotsky, he touches succinctly on his complex identity, commenting: “Vygotsky was obviously Jewish and defiantly superior to ethnic labeling” (254). This is all the more worthy of our attention since in an earlier version he used the phrasing “…defiantly indifferent to the ethnic fact” (1989a: 191).3 We understand the two changes in Joravsky’s formulation as bringing him close to our own understanding that Vygotsky never rejected or ignored his Jewish origins and background, but subsumed them under his universal humanism in keeping with the outlook he learned from his father. Fortunately, we have enough materials, both biographical and published by young Vygotsky, to prove that the Jewish theme was an important factor in the development of 2 See Vygotsky 1916d. 3 Joravsky was writing in the 1980s, when many details of Vygotsky’s life and writings were as yet buried by Soviet censorship. In both versions he further softens his observation by adding that perhaps Vygotsky was more stoic than defiant.

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his worldview. While until 2012, all publications regarding the relation of Vygotsky to Judaism were based only on his published works, recent works of E. Zavershneva, based on analysis of Vygotsky’s personal archives held by his family, show that the published works are only the tip of an iceberg. The archive includes many essays, drafts, and notes. Analysis of papers dated 1912-1917 (“Judaism and socialism,” “Spiritual Zionism: about Ahad Haam,” the “Book of Fragments,” “About Zionism”) shows that the main theme of his thinking during his young years before the Revolution was the Jewish problem. These manuscripts expand our understanding of his attitudes toward tradition, Judaism, and political movements of that time. Among the texts were also some noted in Hebrew and lists of Hebraisms in Russian (Zavershneva 2012, 2013). If we may be permitted to present at the outset our conclusion regarding the understanding of Vygotsky’s personality, we would suggest that his life was a lifelong “quest for synthesis.”4 Vygotsky sought to blend harmoniously all the interacting elements of the world in which he lived, to define his own place in that universe, and integrate himself within the society that surrounded him; to be himself within that society, and not “the other,” rejected for being different. This was no easy task, for Vygotsky grew up in a reluctantly modernizing society that on all sides held stubbornly to old ways and old prejudices, while he himself was a supremely modern personality, flexible, analytical, active, and open to change. The second reason for dealing with Vygotsky’s Jewish background is that despite lip service to the importance of family circumstances and culturalhistorical environment in the formation of personality, there is little attention paid to Vygotsky’s Jewish background, and it is all too often either ignored or willfully suppressed.5 Indeed, a full issue of the journal Voprosy psychologii celebrating the centenary of Vygotsky’s birth makes no mention of his having come from a Jewish background in any of its fifteen articles, though many of 4

See Renè van der Veer and Jaan Valsiner, 1991, chap. 1. This is one of the few works that gives some attention to the Vygodsky family’s Jewish background. 5 See for instance the book by Fred Newman and Lois Holman, Lev Vygotsky, Revolutionary Scientist (1993). Even in their chapter on the history of Vygotsky, no attention is paid to any possible influence of the Jewishness of his family and surroundings. Indeed, there is no mention of his having Jewish origins. The biography of Vygotsky by G. L. Vygodskaya and I. M. Lifanova, Lev Semionovich Vygotsky: Zhizn’, deatel’nost’, shtrikhi k portretu (1996), is a special case of this phenomenon.

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the articles emphasize the importance of social and cultural factors in the formation of personality.6 Excluding Jewish elements from Vygotsky’s early life means ignoring the crucial influences of family and close social surroundings in the formation of personality, and this is simply impermissible. To the extent that culture, environment, historical circumstance, and human mediation are formative factors in human development, as he himself so persuasively teaches, we cannot understand Vygotsky without considering the Jewish nature of Gomel’. We need to consider the Jewish elements in his early education that found expression throughout his works, and the particular form of Jewishness of the Vygodsky family.7 It is in this context that we can evaluate Alexander Etkind’s statement that “even today, important aspects of L. S. Vygotsky’s intellectual biography remain unclear or under-evaluated” (Etkind 1993: 37). One of our aims in this discussion is to redress in some measure this imbalance.

CHILDHOOD AND ADOLESCENCE 4.1  RUSSIA AT THE BEGINNING OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY As we noted in our introduction, Vygotsky was born into a Russian empire riven by contradictions. It was at once a brilliant era of culture that encompassed literature, music, art, theatre, and ballet, and under a regime firmly entrenched in the principles of autocracy, but with an autocrat incapable of understanding or upholding these principles, and overly reliant on his courtiers, many of whom were no more capable than their ruler. Too often, armed and brutal repression was the regime’s automatic response to any dissent.8 At the same time, Vygotsky was born in Russia in the middle of Count Witte’s “Golden Decade” of the 1890s. This was a period of intense industrialization and railway building, with the formation of new urban populations: merchants, craftsmen, commercial groups, a technical intelligentsia, and an incipient industrial working class, mainly peasants driven off the land by poverty induced by 6 Voprosy psychologii, no. 5 (Sept.-Oct. 1996): 4-5. 7 The original family name was Vygodsky and all family members preserved it. Only Lev Semionovich changed it, substituting a “t” for the “d.” A number of explanations, none of them substantiated or conclusive, are offered for this change. 8 See Theodore H. Friedgut 1987.

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backward agriculture and a sharp increase of population. The “Golden Decade” ended with the opening of the new century in Russia’s first capitalist recession and seven lean years of economic stagnation, revolutionary unrest, pogroms, and political reaction. These economic and social changes created a growing psychological strain as both old and new social groups encountered the need to adjust to the new structure of social relations. Even sharper shocks and challenges lay in wait for the populations of the Russian Empire. This way, young Vygotsky’s interest in the human mind, first stimulated in his youth through his study of literature, found a broad and fertile field for exploration. It was presumably economic development and opportunity that brought Semion (Simcha) Vygodsky and his family from Orsha to Gomel’ when Lev was scarcely a year old. With the building of railroads in addition to its traditional river transport as a landing stage on the Sozh River, a tributary of the Dnieper, Gomel’ had become a regional center of transportation and commerce. Semion Vygodsky came to Gomel’ as the local director of the offices of the Russian Freight Transport Company, and an agent of the Moscow Land Bank. He later became the manager of the Gomel’ branch of the Moscow-based Union Bank, and ran an insurance agency from his home as well.9 He was thus clearly involved in the modernizing of Russia.

4.2  YEARS IN GOMEL’ (1897-1913) Gomel’ was founded in the twelfth century, and had been annexed to the Russian Empire from the Kingdom of Lithuania. Jews had lived there since 1537. However, it was after the enactment of the “May Laws” of 1882, expelling Jews from Russia’s central provinces and enforcing the Pale of Settlement, that numerous Jews from Moscow and other large cities settled in Gomel’ (Bogoraz-Tan 1926: 157). By the time of the first All-Russian census of 1897, Gomel’ was a predominantly Jewish city. Of its 37,355 inhabitants, 54.6 percent were Jewish. As in most of the Russian Empire, the Jews were largely craftsmen and small merchants, gradually spreading into commerce and finance as these developed with the modernization of Russia’s economy. Gomel’ had been the personal property of the Rumiantsev family, and in the 9

See Boris A. Krever 1907, 838-39. See also Iosef M. Feigenberg (ed.) 1996, 16-18.

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eighteenth century one of the Counts had made it into a provincial cultural center, even building a large and ornate synagogue for the Jewish population (Feigenberg 1996: 13). This initiative of Count Rumiantsev, together with the immigration of a large number of Jews from the central cities of Russia, may be an important factor in the high cultural level of Gomel’, unusual at that time for an obscure uezd town. The city remained predominantly Jewish through the years of World War I, and the 1917 revolutions, when the Jewish population was enlarged by the arrival of numerous refugees banished from the war zones by the Russian government (Bogoraz-Tan 1926: 164). The Jewish community of Gomel’ included all trends of Jewish organization and outlook. The city was a center for the followers of the Liubavich Hasidim, who had a considerable following among the more affluent sector of the Jewish population, the Zionist-Socialist Poalei Zion, the Jewish Marxist Social Democratic Bund, and the secular Association for the Enlightenment of the Jews of Russia (Obshchestvo dlia rasprostraneniia prosveshcheniia sredi Evreev Rossii—abbreviation, OPE). The Jewish community was predominantly religious and traditional in its outlook, intolerant of deviants. Religious schools dominated Jewish education in the city, although there existed a private Jewish men’s gymnasiia in which young Lev Vygotsky received the final years of his basic education, and a similar institution for young Jewish women. There were thirty small synagogues in addition to the central synagogue built by Count Rumiantsev (B. Pul’ner 1926: 200-2). The Jewish community of Gomel’ was quite naturally subject to all the revolutionary and modernizing undercurrents that affected the entire empire in this period, as testimony from 1903 attests. It was said that while the older generation was almost entirely religious, the younger Jews were active in various political parties, and that there were more Zionists than democrats (Feigenberg 1996: 75; Krever 1907: 61). For the purpose of our discussion, the OPE is the most important, though it was neither the largest nor the most influential, of the Jewish organizations. However, Semion L’vovich Vygodsky was president of the local branch of its organization, and actively promoted its aims. Philosophically, they were the heirs of the German and Russian Jewish Enlightenment (Haskalah) movements of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, whose creed could be summed up as “Be a Jew at home and a man abroad.” Like the Haskalah, the OPE encouraged modern education, the use of the Russian language as

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vernacular, knowledge of both Jewish and universal culture, and rapprochement of Jewish and Russian culture through translation into Russian of the Old Testament and such works as Heinrich Graetz’s twelve-volume History of the Jews, and both Jewish and non-Jewish literature.

4.3  VYGOTSKY’S HOME LIFE AND EDUCATION The head of the family, Semion L’vovich Vygodsky was active in realization of the OPE goals both at home and in the community. He was the founder of an OPE public library, of which the young Lev and his siblings and friends made frequent use. Though founded and financed by a Jewish organization, the library was used by both Jewish and non-Jewish readers (Feigenberg 1996: 16-17).10 Vygotsky’s community activism and cultural interests came to him naturally, for the family was one in which several generations of well-known authors, scholars, and political figures had flourished (Kelner: 1). The elder Vygodsky’s position in business, in which he had numerous connections with the local authorities and other members of the commercial and financial elites of Gomel’ gave him public status, and as we shall see, these connections and his activities on behalf of the OPE made Semion L’vovich an influential personality in the Jewish community. The family lived in a spacious, five-room apartment on the second floor of an imposing brick building, once occupied by the Rumiantsevs, one of very few such buildings in Gomel’, where living in your own home more often than not meant a cramped, tumble-down structure of 3-5 square sazhens, no more than 23 square metres (Bogoraz-Tan 1926: 171-72).11 Semion Vygodsky’s status in Gomel’ and his outlook can be found by examining his involvement in the events surrounding the Gomel’ pogrom of August 1903, happenings that must have left a deeply traumatic impression on Lev Semionovich, who was seven years old at the time.12 To use a concept later 10 Vygodskaya and Lifanova (1996: 26-27) write only of an “Association for Education” and a “wonderful public library,” without mentioning the Jewish character of either. See the memoirs of Moisei Gerchikov, “Puty-dorogi,” seen at http://berkovich-zametki.com/2006/ starina/Nomer7/gerchikov1.htm (accessed Oct. 16, 2006), for testimony as to the richness of the library’s collection, both Jewish and general. 11 A sazhen equals 2.13 metres. 12 See discussion of this point in Alex Kozulin 1990: 13-14.

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coined by Vygotsky, this must have been one of the “key experiences” of his early life. Semion L’vovich participated in the organizing committee of a Jewish self-defense unit, recruiting, training, and arming two hundred fighters when threats of an impending pogrom ran through the city.13 When the pogrom began, a number of Jews appealed to Vygodsky as one who could speak with the non-Jewish establishment, to intercede with the Russian authorities. He did so, urging the police chief and a priest to calm the situation and maintain order, but to no avail (Krever 1907: 837-38).14 In the actual pogrom, six Jews were killed, but the self-defense was able to repel the attackers, limiting the Jewish losses in life and property, and killing a number of the pogromists. When the police attempted to disarm the Jews, they resisted and beat off the police attack. The result was that thirty-six members of the Jewish self-defense were arrested and put on trial, along with forty-four non-Jews. In his testimony as a defense witness for the accused Jews, Vygodsky commented somewhat bitterly that as long as the Jews did not raise the question of their human rights, everything was fine, but that the privileged non-Jewish classes of Russia could not stomach the idea that the Jews had become aware of their rights and wanted equality (840).15 Vygodsky’s entire testimony is a plea for a Russia in which all had equal rights rather than the society of discrimination and prejudices that was dominant in Russia of that period. The home life of the Vygodsky family only reinforced the values that Semion L’vovich represented publicly; thus this style of life must be counted as a major formative influence on Lev Vygotsky, the second of the family’s eight children.16 Many of Lev Vygotsky’s social and cultural values can be traced 13 1905 g. v Polesskom raione (Gomel: Gomelskii rabochii, 1925), 208, cited in Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 26. Here the self-defense is called “The Committee of Public Safety” with no reference to Jews or pogrom. See also John D. Klier and Shlomo Lambroza (1992: 209, 223, 341) for an account of the Jewish self-defence’s role in this pogrom. For a different view, see Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn 2001: 340-42. 14 Testimony of Vygodsky at the October, 1903 trial of 36 members of the Jewish Self-Defence. Krever’s massive volume is a verbatim transcript of the judicial proceedings with annotation and commentary. 15 See also the discussion in Kozulin 1990: 14. 16 Aleksandr Z. Shapiro’s “Family Psychology and L. S. Vygotsky’s Concept of the Social Situation of Development,” typescript text of a lecture to the Vygotsky Seminar, Trondheim, Norway, November 8-9, 1996, sent to us by the author, emphasizes the importance of the family as a mediating institution in forming the individual’s outlook on society. Shapiro is

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directly to his upbringing in the family. Both parents were educated and cultured people with broad horizons. The father’s stern discipline was offset by the mother’s exceptional good-heartedness. The general family atmosphere was one of intellectual and moral challenge, along with a warm, tolerant, and respectful attitude to the children and others in general. The family provided solidarity and support, and Lev’s devotion to his mother and brother when they were later seriously ill with tuberculosis is evidence of this. He interrupted his work for close to a year and gave them all his strength and attention in an attempt to save their lives. At the outset of his work in experimental psychology in 1923, we find a questionnaire, intended to elucidate the subject’s personality formation, in which the very first question following the demographic basics is: “Family: Do you have an emotional attachment to your family? If so, what sort? What are your relations with your parents? Is there mutual understanding and closeness?...” (Dayan 1924b: 235). The formulations almost certainly drew on Lev’s own formative life experience, a pattern we will find repeated a number of times in his development. Both parents knew several languages and took an interest in literature and theater. The house was always full of books that all the children were encouraged to read.17 Here was the source of Lev Vygotsky’s life-long interest in Russian and world literature, theater, and philosophy, particularly moral and ethical thought. It was customary within Jewish tradition for parents to care about their children’s education and to start as early as possible. In a seventeenth-century text it was formulated as follows: “Prior to his beginning to talk, get him used to kissing books thus training him to treat them with respect ... as he grows older teach him: Torah prescriptions and the first verse of Shema. Then hire him a teacher to teach him Torah” (Eliakim of Posen; cited in S. Rosman 1985). It can be suggested that the tradition goes back to much earlier times. In some Jewish communities, the practice of initial literacy included covering letters with honey for children to associate learning with pleasure. Many other similar tricks are known—e.g., dropping coins or candies “from the sky” when a child reads one of the few researchers who points to the Vygodsky family’s Jewishness as an important element in L.S. Vygotsky’s personality. 17 Feigenberg 1996: 17, and Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 28-29, both emphasize the cultural and humanistic influences of the family atmosphere.

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well. Could these not be a source for the idea of the importance of mediation for the development of higher psychological functions? In traditional circles, the father was responsible for his son’s education, but in the Vygodsky family the mother, Cecilia Moiseevna, a teacher by profession, gave all her children a home education up to a secondary level. Here, along with the basic school subjects of Russian language, Russian and world history, literature and mathematics, young Lev mastered the fundamentals of a classical education: Greek and Hebrew language as well as English. He also studied the Old Testament, and Jewish history and culture. Later, at Dr. Ratner’s private Jewish gymnasiia, he learned Latin, French, and German. In addition to his mother’s instruction, Vygotsky had a tutor, Solomon Markovich Ashpiz, a young mathematics student who had been expelled from the university and exiled for his part in a student demonstration (Feigenberg 1996: 26-27). Ashpiz, according to an eye witness, appears to have been a gifted pedagogue. When one of his pupils presented a project that he had prepared, Ashpiz would ask questions that would lead the pupil to discover for himself what aspects of his presentation were weak, incomplete, or erroneous so that the pupil himself could correct them (25-26). The remembrance of this technique may well have influenced Vygotsky’s later concept of the zone of proximal development, one of his most important contributions to child education. The broad cultural horizons with which Vygotsky’s parents and tutors endowed him found expression in his youthful hobbies—stamp collecting, which gave him knowledge of obscure and far off countries, and Esperanto, the would-be universal language to which he was introduced by his cousin, David Isaakovich Vygodsky, and which put him into correspondence with persons from other countries and cultures (28-31).18 The Vygotsky household was Jewish, but in a cultural and historical rather than a religious or national way. This is important for us to remember in considering Lev Vygotsky’s background. Lev was thoroughly conversant with texts of 18 David Isaakovich Vygodsky, who grew up in Lev Vygotsky’s family and appears to have been an important influence in Vygotsky’s life, became well known as a linguist, literary critic, scholar in the field of Yiddish and Hebrew literature, and translator of Russian poetry into Spanish and Hebrew poetry into Russian. For his career and ultimate fate see Van der Veer and Valsiner 1991: 5-6.

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the Bible, with Jewish history and with the meaning of Jewish festivals and religious traditions. He knew the prayers and celebrated a Bar Mitzvah ceremony marking his passage into adult responsibility under Jewish tradition. His Hebrew was sufficiently fluent that he himself composed and delivered the customary Bar Mitzvah sermon with moral-historical content in Hebrew. In preparing him for this ceremony his parents engaged a special religious instructor, once again an intelligent and modern-minded person who was both willing and able to answer all questions regarding the religious texts and traditions fully and frankly (39-40). The fact that Dobkin sees fit to note this fact indicates that the young Lev Vygotsky indeed asked penetrating questions regarding religious texts and traditions, in a spirit similar to that of his muchadmired role model, Spinoza. The fact that the parents sought out an enlightened religious tutor is once again testimony to the family’s rationalist values and their rejection of the rote learning and superficial ritual that was so often the custom of the times. As we will show at a later point, Vygotsky’s familiarity with Jewish scripture and with Spinoza’s philosophy found repeated expression in his scientific works throughout his entire career. His literary and pedagogical style was, from his youth, said to be influenced by biblical style, reinforcing his message by repetition, describing one idea through parallel presentation of the point using several different images (23).19

4.4 THE GYMNASIIA AND THE HISTORY SEMINAR Until after his Bar Mitzvah ceremony, Lev Vygotsky continued in his home education, outwardly appearing to be closed in a narrow world dominated by women, but in fact gathering a broad knowledge of the world. He successfully passed the government examinations for the fifth school year, but for his last two years his parents decided that he should attend Dr. A. E. Ratner’s private Jewish men’s gymnasiia. His sisters, together with those of Semion Dobkin, attended the parallel institution for women run by R. D. Syrkina. There were two state gymnasii in Gomel’, but the atmosphere there was oppressive and unfriendly toward Jews. For example, the school inspector, Chichidovsky, whose responsibilities included supervision of the private Jewish gymnasiia, 19 For additional examples and discussion on this theme see van der Veer and Valsiner 1991: 4-5.

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was said to be a dyed-in-the-wool Russian monarchist who had little love for any “foreigners” (inorodtsy) as the Jews and other non-Russians were classed by the tsarist regime. The private Jewish gymnasiia was a solution for both young men seeking a secular secondary education and young women who, in the dominant Jewish religious community, were deemed destined only for the roles of wife and mother, and thus needed only a basic education of reading the prayers and some writing (Gerchikov 2006a).20 Although the gymnasiia provided a comfortable social atmosphere and operated on a high intellectual level, it could not have been what Vygotsky and his family would have chosen for him, had all other factors been equal. It was a constant reminder that the ambition of the family to be Jewish but equal was as yet far from realization. They were still “the other” restricted in all too many aspects of their lives. Vygotsky expressed his attempts to attenuate this consciousness of discrimination in a serious school essay, “Jews and the Jewish question in the works of F. M. Dostoevsky.”21 In this paper, young L. Vygotsky writes of a Russian literary tradition portraying “the despicable Jew” in a scornfully comic manner, originating with Derzhavin and Pushkin. “It is strange and incomprehensible that Russian literature, advancing the principle of humanism … shows so little humanism in its depictions of the Jew, in whom the artist never felt the human being….” In this essay we can also see that young Vygotsky was already developing rigorous criteria for analysis of literature, some roots of the future Psychology of Art. Thus he writes, “in Dostoevsky’s works we find a striking example of how artistic truth avenges itself.” He provides Dostoevsky’s description from “The House of the Dead” of a Jew preparing for Shabbat on Friday evening, putting on tefillin with a lot of details, but Vygotsky notes: “After such a description the Russian reader will be shocked to discover that 20 See also Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 35 for the attitude of the state gymnasiia examiners toward the students in the private institutions. In the cross-questioning of Semion L’vovich by the judge in the 1903 pogrom trial, Vygodsky specified the state gymnasii and the educational system as a whole as institutions in which hostility and discrimination were the lot of the Jews. See Krever 1907: 840. 21 This text was first published in 1997 in the Israel newspaper Vesti, based on a manuscript copied from a hand-written school notebook kept by Vygotsky’s sister and later preserved by S. Dobkin, who also described the original text and commented: “According to our inquiry, because he refers to publication of V. Zhabotinsky of 1913 perhaps it was written in 1913 just before he left for Studies in Moscow.”

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Jews never put on tefilln in the evening and never on the Shabbat eve.... Nemezida of art does not forgive such an illustration of the untrue: you do not believe in the Jew of Dostoevsky, he is invented.” Later, in 1916-1917, some parts of this text revealing the antisemitic trends of Russian literature appeared in his literary reviews of works of M. Lermontov and A. Belyi. During his two years of gymnasiia education, Lev organized and led a remarkable study seminar on Jewish History. The idea had come from his older sister, Zinaida, and the two older Vygodsky girls, along with the two sisters of Semion Dobkin, were the core of the participants along with other young people from their schools. Through examination of the history of the Jewish people, the seminar sought to understand the nature of history, the role of the individual in history, the essence of a nation, and other, similar questions of the philosophy of history (Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 33-35; Feigenberg 1996: 19-24).22 True to their upbringing, Lev Vygotsky and his sisters strove to understand Jewish history as part of universal history, bending their intellect to the application of universal philosophical principles to the particular Jewish case. This was a period in which “the national question,” the place of ethnic minorities in the European empires, was prominent in intellectual debates throughout Europe. It is a sign of their awareness of the world and their own self-awareness, inculcated in the youngsters by the Vygodsky parents, that this seminar was active for two full school years, ending only when Lev departed for university studies in Moscow. It is of particular importance that we note the sources they used in their studies if we wish to understand the outlook of Vygotsky, for it was he who determined the tone and direction of the seminar. The Bible, Graetz, and Ernest Renan were their main sources for understanding the origin and essence of a nation. (It is unlikely that J. V. Stalin’s Marxism on the National and Colonial Question was known to them, for this book, which for fifty years served as the definitive authority of the Soviet attitude regarding nations and ethnic minorities, and particularly toward the Jewish people, was published only toward the end of 22 Vygodskaya and Lifanova make no mention of the seminar dealing with Jewish history, while S. Dobkin in Feigenberg 1996 emphasizes that the discussions of the essence of a nation focused on the Jews and the Bible served as a primary study resource, along with Graetz’s History of the Jews.

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the period during which the seminar was active). For the role of the individual in history, the young seminarists studied Tolstoy and Thomas Carlyle (Feigenberg 1996: 22-23). All of the sources used by them would have been available in Russian translations in the OPE library founded by Lev’s father. When Lev Semionovich graduated from the gymnasiia with a gold medal, supposedly guaranteeing him a place in the best universities of Russia, his parents persuaded him to choose medicine as a profession that would give him a chance to escape the restrictions of the Pale of Settlement, although his own preference was to study literature and philosophy (Vygodskaya 1995).23 But even on the eve of his setting out into the wider world, Vygotsky was handed a reminder of his “otherness.” That summer, the system of filling the three percent quota for Jews in the universities of Moscow and St. Petersburg was changed, and instead of gold medal winners automatically being accepted on the basis of their proven academic merits, the quota was to be filled by a lottery among all applicants. By what seemed a miracle, Vygotsky was nevertheless awarded a place in Moscow University through the lottery (Feigenberg 1996: 32-33). However, he must have embarked on his new life with a bitter taste in his mouth. Combined with the circumstances of his having to enroll in the private Jewish gymnasiia, this last rejection completed the three “key experiences” of “otherness” influencing Vygotsky’s youth. Yet, as we shall see, his reaction was not a rejection of Russian society, but a redoubled effort to find a place for himself within that society, an ongoing quest for synthesis. We have examined the world of the young Lev Semionovich Vygotsky. In his formative years it was a world of intense Jewishness. His town, his friends, and above all his family had a strong Jewish identity. Lev was raised to give his Jewishness a humanistic and cultural-historical interpretation, and this natural inclination was reinforced by what he found in his readings of Spinoza, an influence that remained with him throughout his life. Spinoza, who defied authority wherever it contradicted reason and intelligence, was an attractive role model for the young Lev. Vygotsky’s familiarity with and love for the biblical sources in which he was steeped also found expression in his work throughout his life. 23 See also Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 36. This point is the only specific mention of the family’s Jewishness in the entire biography.

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4.5  UNIVERSITY YEARS Vygotsky left Gomel’ for his university education in Moscow, and for the first time reveled in the freedom and cultural richness of the great, wide world of the metropolis. At long last, he faced the prospect of full acceptance and equality among his fellow students at the university, a prospect that appeared to be moving toward realization with the unfolding of Russian history through the stormy years of 1916 and 1917. However, his most “Jewish” years, the years that he served on the editorial staff of Novyi put’, his early literary criticisms, his first intensive burst of teaching, of literary and dramatic criticism and public cultural activity in Gomel’ in 1919-1924, and his decisive turn toward the study and practice of psychology were still before him. Lev Vygotsky had come to Moscow in the autumn of 1913 to study medicine, a profession his parents had thrust on him as a way of leaving the Pale of Settlement. Rather quickly he realized that this was not to his liking, and transferred to the Faculty of Law, an alternative choice that still fulfilled his parents’ aim.24 At the same time he enrolled for the study of literature, philosophy, and history at the Shaniavsky Free University, an unrecognized, independent university established and staffed by professors who had been dismissed from Moscow University because of their support of student strikes and demonstrations. Vygotsky’s behavior in this case gives us an interesting insight into his personality. In our time, we are used to the phenomenon of adolescent rebellion. In those years, this was not uncommon among Jewish youth in Eastern Europe, where the traditional, religious Jewish society was cracking under the pressures of modernization and revolution. But Vygotsky’s upbringing had been modern and non-traditional. His relations with his parents and siblings were close and devoted. Above all, he believed in a Spinozan harmony of development. He therefore took upon himself the extra burden and responsibility of studying according to his own choice, while still honoring his parents’ wishes by studying law.

24 It would appear that Vygotsky never completed his degree in law. He received his degree from the Shaniavsky University, and much later, while working in psychology in Moscow, also completed a degree in medicine.

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Vygotsky was a serious student of literature, and wrote his graduate thesis from university on a literary-psychological theme: “The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, by William Shakespeare.” He included this essay in his book The Psychology of Art. In the opinion of S. Dobkin, this work on Hamlet was “in large measure autobiographical…” (Feigenberg 1996: 36). This same view is developed and given further basis by A. Z. Shapiro, who points out that the Hamlet-like situation in which Vygotsky found himself in his student years involved not only questions of profession (Shapiro 1996b). His choice of studies was made on the basis of moral considerations, and his choice of psychology as a profession had a similar basis. In Vygotsky’s earliest publications, literary and theatrical criticism constitute a significant portion, much of it including Jewish aspects. It is strange, then, that these works are so little known, and that in recent biographical sketches published on the internet a single theme repeats itself: that following his graduation essay, L. S. Vygotsky simply “disappeared from the field of creative activity.” This is completely erroneous. During these years (1916-1924), Vygotsky published more than eighty articles and notes in various newspapers and journals (Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 391-94). In these articles, published in Novyi put’, in Gorkii’s journal Letopis’, and during his stay in Gomel’ in Nash ponedel’nik and Polesskaia pravda, we can see the crystallization of the views that later were to find expression in his Psychology of Art. (For review of these journalistic publications, see Kotik-Friedgut 2012). Perhaps most important in the framework of this discussion are the articles he published at the start of this period in the Russian-language Jewish periodical Novyi put’ (New Path) in the years 1916-1917. In 1916-1917, Vygotsky was a student enrolled in two universities. During these years he wrote his graduate thesis, and at the same time he worked as technical secretary of Novyi put’, in which he also published articles. This was a liberal-democratic publication in the spirit of the Jewish Enlightenment movement in Russia. The journal’s board included prominent Jews and non-Jews, Duma (parliament) members belonging to the liberal-democratic parties of Russia, and several from the moderate Socialist parties. The content of this weekly publication reflected a secular Jewish culture presented in the Russian language as part of Russian and world culture rather than as a separate entity, and encouraging Jews to participate in the public life of Russia as citizens

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working for full equality. In the Jewish sphere, these values found expression in a rejection of Zionism, and of violent revolution, as well as of religious exclusivism and strictly religious education, though not of religious tradition as part of the Jewish cultural heritage. These were the same values in which Vygotsky had been educated at home since his earliest childhood. In addition to his literary criticism, Vygotsky published three essays relating to important dates in the Jewish calendar. He also published a Russian translation of a Hebrew short story, additional testimony to his facility in Hebrew and continuing interest in the language.25 These essays are vivid testimony to his intense spiritual awareness and passionate emotional involvement in the fate of the Jews of Russia and his own role in the fate of his people. In essence, these dilemmas are a reflection of his Hamlet-like soul-searching. The first of these purely Jewish articles, “Lines of Mourning,” is devoted to the ninth day of the Jewish month of Av, a day of fast and prayer marking the supposed dates of the destruction of both the first and second temples in Jerusalem. As we previously mentioned, his meditations regarding the history and nature of the Jewish people had motivated him to lead a study circle on Jewish history at a time when he was still a pupil in gymnasiia. The subject was of interest to him in 1916 as it had been in his earlier years. He asks: “In these terrible days…. (In fact in 1916, at a low point in Russian military fortunes in World War I, the Russian government had expelled the Jewish population from the areas adjacent to the front lines, creating tens of thousands of refugees.) In these days of trials and tribulations, why should we resurrect our sadness for the dead, and exhaust ourselves with agonies that are long since inscribed in our annals?” Recounting all the tragic events connected with this date, he analyzes the relevant connection of those days to the present, and his emotional analysis is drenched in pain for “the defeats and downfalls that were imposed on us from the outside, and by which our history was formed … subjugated everywhere and in everything to a foreign will … to the will of general world history.” He points out, however, the significance of suffering. Because this painful date is “not temporary or transient, but timeless and eternally marked, cherished and preserved … not a historical mourning, but suprahistorical, creational…. That 25 See Novy put’, 39 (1916), cols. 37-40 for Vygotsky’s translation of M. I. Berdichevsky’s story “Vykup” (Redemption).

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which is readily observed and external to history is soon forgotten, erased and transient: events, sufferings, peoples…. But what about the invisible and non-material beams of pure sorrow, emanating from the tragic in history? Who knows? Are they not gathered together and distilled into the supreme pain of this day, and thus projected into eternity?” (1916b: 28-30). We should remember here that even in his gymnasiia days Vygotsky defined the essence of a people as the community of its historical fate, and thus historical memory becomes imbued with the function of signification. Raising himself above the suffering, both of the past and of the present, he examines current events in historical perspective and completes his painful exposition in a typically Jewish spirit of optimism. “There exists a moving and wonderful tradition, of the deepest and most valuable significance, a legend according to which, on this day of grief and mourning, precisely on this day, the Messiah will be born… Of this, one may speak only with difficulty, but is compelled to feel in the wound of these days the ultimate reality of defeat, of impotence and of illness. For it is out of the darkness of the sorrow of this day that the Messiah’s approaching footfalls are heard” (30). It would seem that in the phrase “the ultimate reality of defeat, of impotence, and of illness,” it is precisely the term “ultimate” that is the key, carrying within it the hope for change. At a later point we will see with what enthusiasm he reacts to the changes in the discriminatory laws following the February Revolution, but even at this point we see how he wants the reader to believe in the possibility of redemption. The following issue of Novyi put’ carried L. S. Vygotsky’s article devoted to the works of M. Iu. Lermontov. It is quite possible that he worked on both articles simultaneously. It would appear that in the fact that they were published almost at the same time, we find expression of the essence of his mental workings, his searching in the fields closest to his heart: history and culture. The same phenomenon repeated itself in December, when two consecutive issues carried his article on the Jewish holiday of Chanukah and a literary note on Andrei Belyi’s novel Peterburg. In his article devoted to the seventy-fifth anniversary of Lermontov’s death (1916c: 7-11), Vygotsky writes of a Russian literary tradition portraying “the despicable Jew” in a scornfully comic manner.26 This tradition, he writes, 26 Here Vygotsky uses expressions taken from his unpublished essay about Dostoevsky.

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originated with G. R. Derzhavin and A. S. Pushkin. Vygotsky praised Lermontov for going against that tradition, according him a special standing in Russian literature. “The tradition glosses over all differences and evens out all particularities. Always and everywhere the Jew is the personification of human shortcomings…. Moreover, the comic is the unchanging characteristic of that image. Gogol could note comic aspects even in a pogrom against Jews. Dostoevsky mocked the prayers of a Jew, and Turgenev topped them all by gracefully laughing at a Jew condemned to death…. At the same time, Lermontov devotes a tragedy to the Jews. The Jews are its focus, their lives are its theme, a Jew is its hero. (The Spaniards, 1830)…. He casts the figures of the Jews in a somber, yet grand, light, and heard tears where others had noted only the comic, and saw individual human features where all the others, with the light hand of Gogol, saw only ‘poor mugs distorted by fear’…. In the very undertaking of a tragedy about Jews, Lermontov spoke new words, never voiced before.” In this connection, Vygotsky notes that Lermontov too did not avoid using the term “Zhid,”27 but noted: “It is clear what meaning and what connotation Lermontov included in this term … and Lermontov approaches the old stereotype from a new direction….” Vygotsky takes into account that in contrast to the men, Lermontov describes Jewish women as endowed with beauty and femininity. Vygotsky pays particular attention to Lermontov’s poem “A Jewish Melody,” in which there is nothing Jewish. The poem is simply devoted to the sufferings of the poet, who identifies his own melancholy with a Jewish mood. Vygotsky sees this as “a phenomenon new and wonderful in Russian literature.” With all his respect and sympathy for Lermontov’s courage and originality in relation to Jews, Vygotsky, without any apologies whatsoever, applies the highest critical standards to evaluating the artistic side of Lermontov’s writing. “It is the approach to the theme that is significant, and not its implementation; the goals and not the facts; the vision and not the realization…. These are the hardships of the path of lofty art and exalted themes.” At the end of 1916, we once more find in Novyi Put’ two articles by Vygotsky: one on a historical theme, the other literary criticism. The holiday of 27 An insulting form of reference, equivalent to the English “kike.”

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Chanukah, marking the victory of the Maccabees over the Syrian-Greek armies of Antiochus, generally falls in December. In December of 1916, Russia’s participation in World War I had brought the country to a catastrophic situation. Vygotsky opens his essay, “Thoughts and Moods (Lines for Chanukah)” (Vygotsky 1916e) with a phrase in Hebrew from the Chanukah prayers: “In those days, and at this time” (Bayamim hahem, bazman hazeh). The entire text that follows is an attempt to understand what is common and what is different between those ancient days and his own times, as this is the very essence of the meaning of history in Judaism. To him, the common link appears to be the uninterrupted flow of events: at the one pole (in those days—161 B.C.E.) “The brightest moment of supreme celebration of the Jewish people’s power, its strength and its free will,” whereas today “a historically unprecedented nadir of glaring weakness, a crumbling of the nation’s strength and a final prevailing of lack of free will.” And once again we are presented with the Hamlet-like dilemma, “the final prevailing….” Is this an expression of the extremity of the fall, after which it is either “No!”—the finality of death, or “Yes!” a renaissance? Here is a truly Hamlet-like dichotomy. With deep pain and passion he writes of the loss of meaning of the Jewish existence in the Diaspora, of the absurdity of participation in the “diabolic vaudeville” of the war, fighting for alien and unclear interests. He relates an apocryphal “incident in which two Jews, one Austrian, one Russian met in battle. The one bayoneted the other, but on hearing the dying man pronounce the ‘Shma Yisrael’ prayer, went out of his mind. If this incident was not, in fact, historically true, it would have had to be invented as a symbol of our times.”28 This absurdity is of itself an outcome of the tragic history of the Diaspora. If there is “…a chasm of opposites (between the heroes of those events and Jewish life in our times, then it was hewed out and deepened over a long period, year after year, not omitting a single year nor a single link of the chain binding our times to those days … and we long ago went along that path: ‘I know, Lord, that a man’s way is not his own….’ ( Jeremiah 10:23).”29 What disturbs him is that “Even on the scale of world history this [the Maccabees’ victory—B.K-F.] was an unusual event, an authentically heroic page, an achievement of self-liberation,” but he notes that it is celebrated not so 28 Ibid., col. 51. 29 Ibid.

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much as a military victory, as for the “re-sanctification of the Temple, the first prayer of which is to He who performed wonders for our forefathers, humbly thanking Him for revelation.” Here we can see to some extent the essence of the secular yet traditional self-consciousness characteristic of the Jewish intelligentsia of that time—a deep knowledge of tradition, history, and religious texts along with a rejection of reliance on miracles, and a faith in the necessity of the assertion of a people’s common will.30 As for Vygotsky’s evolving world-view we see a clear cultural-historical approach to interpretation of current events, a view which later became central for his theory of development stressing the historical aspect both in the meaning of the cultural-historical environment and the history of development of a specific child. Now let us turn to Vygotsky’s literary criticism of this period, revealing his own cultural preferences and personalty. We analyze and compare two different versions of Vygotsky’s critique of Andrei Belyi’s novel, Peterburg, that appeared almost simultaneously in December 1916. The theme of the “Literary Notes” that appeared in Novyi put’ (Vygotsky 1916d) is Belyi’s Peterburg, but in fact, the main discussion centers around Vygotsky’s thoughts as to the essence of antisemitism. Vygotsky notes that often Jews are accused that they see everything “through the prism of the Jewish problem,” that all events of the world are of direct concern to them. As a result, it would appear that “the Jews have falsely attributed to themselves the role of center of the universe.” But the antisemites shout the same thing: “The world orbits around the Jews!” Vygotsky quotes Vladimir Soloviev, who designated “Judaism as the universal axis of history” (27). Vygotsky comments in the sharply critical style that he used: “Undoubtedly this is no more than a gross error, as it were, an ignorant blunder … anyone knows at present that the dependency is just the reverse, that the Jewish people are dependent on universal history, on Cyrus or Napoleon, and not the opposite.” Vygotsky brings the analogy of the sun and the earth. Although we all know that the earth orbits about the sun, “the indisputable reality of our experience” points to the opposite. Vygotsky the psychologist remarks that “Such is the nature of the human ‘I’, 30 For a broad and detailed exposition of the contending currents of thought within the young Jewish intelligentsia at the end of the nineteenth century and the start of the twentieth century, see Jacob S. Raisin (1913), particularly chapters five and six.

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the structure of the human eye, that any open space may appear to be a closed sphere, with the observer himself at its center. That is how things stand in the world of ideas in general, and regarding Jews in particular….” (28). In his works on psychology of development we can find the same line of thinking and arguing. Thus, he often invites the reader to try to overcome the illusion of first impression, for example when a child uses a certain word it does not mean that the concept behind it is the same as for an adult. In Peterburg, the Jewish question is enfolded in the more general context of xenophobia. This extends to all representatives of non-Russians, in particular of those oriental peoples whom one can meet both in the earthly Peterburg and in Belyi’s hallucinatory version. But Vygotsky has a particular interest in antisemitism. His evaluation was that “Andrei Belyi’s antisemitism is much greater and deeper…. It would appear to us that we have here an expression of the revealing and deeply significant mind-set of ‘mystic antisemitism’ so characteristic of the times through which we are living, and that envelops more and more groups of the ‘penitent intelligentsia.’31 In the mindsets of the Russian intelligentsia regarding the Jewish question, one can quite definitely see some noticeable movement…. The time has come for theoretical deepening” (30-31). What Vygotsky refers to are the works of Vladimir Solov’ev and the intellectual legacies of Dostoevsky and Berdiaev, who condemned antisemitic discrimination in politics, in everyday life, in racial theories, etc., basing their condemnation on Christian conscience and consciousness, but at the same time proclaimed “the principle of religious antisemitism; opposition to the spirit of Israel…. Merezhkovsky speaks of the deep conflicts existing between Judaism and Christianity, but which it is impossible to discuss because that would mean moving toward some sort of ‘spiritual Pale of Settlement.’ First get rid of the political [Pale], he declares, and then we will institute the spiritual” (31). The emotional structure of his analysis finds expression in such epithets as “riddle-like, inexplicability, the amazing and incomprehensible echoes of the mystery of Israel…. Antisemitism is the eternal fellow-traveler of the eternal people, and this by itself justifies examining it sub specie aeternitatis, the secret of the eternity of the Jewish people” (31). 31 The reference is to that part of the Russian intelligentsia that was horrified and ashamed of the brutal pogrom wave of 1903-1905.

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In this essay, so it seems, we can discern the culminating flare-up of Vygotsky’s personal feelings in conjunction with the choice of a direction in life at a time when he perceived no limits to the play of his mature intellect, the intellect of a powerful thinker. However, the realization of his desires, and his personality’s self-realization, are at the same time limited both by laws (the Pale of Settlement), and by the atmosphere of antisemitism in society, an antisemitism that in the eyes of Vygotsky degraded Russia’s culture. Vygotsky’s critique of this same novel in the periodical Letopis’, although written on the same conceptual basis, is formulated quite differently (Vygotsky 1916a: 327-28). Here Vygotsky writes a profound psychological analysis of a significant phenomenon in belles lettres, without a single direct word about antisemitism. He writes only of “anti-artistic, pejorative tendencies” of Belyi, who writes of “the alien essence prevailing in the spirits of his heroes, symbolized by non-Russian, foreign little devils with the forms of Mongols, Semites and others. All of his central characters, without exception, are non-Russians.” It should be noted that in the Jewish periodical the discussion of the essence of antisemitism began with a quotation from the review in the periodical Russkie zapiski (Russian Notes), in which it was recognized that in this novel “…antisemitism was expressed in a rather vulgar manner.” Andrei Belyi is condemned for his “socio-political leanings.” Extrapolating from this, Vygotsky develops his own analysis of antisemitism as a phenomenon, and allows himself to share it with his Jewish readers. In the journal Letopis’ and in other literary notes, there is no direct mention whatsoever of Judaism. We may consider this the realization of one of the central ethical principles of the Enlightenment movement: “Be a Jew at home [i.e., know, maintain, and enjoy the cultural traditions and history of your people, celebrating them with your fellow Jews] and a man [a citizen of Russia, equal with all the others, and inseparable from them, contributing to the cultural context by the addition of your particularity] abroad.” This was neither a moral double standard nor a splitting of the Jew’s personality, but a means of integration into Russian society without a loss of the particular Jewish identity, a goal shared by many of the more modern and educated Jewish intelligentsia of Russia. For the young Vygotsky, this was a fundamental personal question of the choice of a path in life. As is known, one of the results of the February 1917 Revolution was the total abolition of discriminatory laws and ordinances regarding the

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Jews: formal abolition of the Pale of Settlement (already suspended by the tsarist authorities with expulsion of the Jews from the front line areas in 1916) and abolition of the numerus clausus in the educational system and of religion-based barriers to employment. All of these had played central roles in Vygotsky’s difficulties in the choice of his profession (Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 35-36; Feigenberg 1996: 31-32). This can in part explain the enthusiasm with which he greeted the changes, and the new tones in his essay “Avodim Hoinu” (“We were Slaves”) published in Novyi put’ soon after (Vygotsky 1917a: 8-10). This essay has a very different tone and presents very different problems than did his earlier Chanukah essay. Foreseeing the difficulties that might result from the prolonged preceding period of denial of rights, Vygotsky expresses anxiety regarding his people’s future. “The excitement of the historic moments through which we are now living is not only an emotion of festive and grand rejoicing at having been liberated from the oppressive yoke of the past, but is for the greater part the excitement of fear as we look to the future” (8). He compares the contemporary situation of the Jews with that of their forefathers at the time of the exodus from Egyptian slavery. Such a comparison of historical events in relation to the present is characteristic of Vygotsky and taken from the Jewish tradition to recite the refrain “b’yamim hahem bazman hazeh” (in those days in this time) on various occasions. Here Vygotsky as a psychologist offers a penetrating analysis of the anxiety generated by the achievement of freedom: “…Only yesterday our sole good choice was the readiness for an auto da fe. To the chained slave, all is clear. He does not face the torture of the question ‘What is to be done?’ But today unexpectedly and suddenly it is as though our hands had been freed…. We are not yet used to walking freely, speaking freely, our consciousness has not yet digested the transformation that has taken place. As yet, the old-style soul lives on in the old body…. This new day has caught us unready” (8). This is a summary of the situation in which, after a fierce struggle, the long-sought goal has been attained. All the external obstacles have been overcome, and now the main battlefield is that which is internal: Which way, now? Vygotsky directs this question to himself as well. The new situation demands responsibility and action. Vygotsky takes on an active role in this, taking part in the construction of a new life not only for the Jews, who are now

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equals among the peoples of Russia, but for himself as well. But he does not take any part in organized revolutionary politics, for politics at that time were as yet partisan, with various groups contending among themselves to impose their particular views and programs. At a later point in his career, in his activities in Gomel’, we will see clearly the theme that in the new circumstances, all fields of life must be brought to a new and more perfect level. He is, as we shall see, sharply critical of Jewish politics because of their factional tendencies, and brings his critical faculties to bear on both the artistry of the Jewish theatre, and Belorussian culture and literature, and perhaps first and foremost, the scientific understanding of human consciousness and behavior. It is in Gomel’, in the years 1917-1924, that Vygotsky will begin to crystallize (as much as his somewhat chaotic circumstances and surroundings allowed) his theories of human development. As he had in his previous articles, Vygotsky writes of the Jews’ loss of freedom as a result of the internal withering of autonomy in the course of a long history of slavery. He writes, however, of a vital and active minority among the people as a basis for the belief that “the debilitating lack of freedom can be overcome quickly, and the people’s dreams quickly realized. The flow of events itself confronts the Jews of Russia with the prospect of an imminent appearance and formation of a will of the people….” (8-9). However, it soon became apparent that the active minority had its own private ambitions. Each of the existing Jewish parties strove for domination, wishing to see “all Jews as Bundists, Semists, or Zionists.” Vygotsky analyzes the ideologies of these parties, generalizing on this as “positive nationalism composed of three theoretical foundations: nationalism, autonomism and secularization of the Jewish national idea.” He gives no basis whatsoever for considering him as a supporter of any party. Moreover, his attitude to their struggle for hegemony, for “party demands,” was highly critical. “The people are greater than any party, history greater than politics, and religion and a world view are greater than any program. The life of a people can never be built on a foundation of positivism and rationalism alone. The question of a people’s cultural and historical existence is not a political question….” (8-9). The article ends on a note of celebration. “In these days of liberation, in the glowing dawn of the great Exodus, a living Hagadah32 is being created in the 32 The Passover Hagadah—the recounting of the story of the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt, as part of the celebration of the Passover Seder ceremony.

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hope that the deep decadence which the Jews have experienced must give way to a renaissance of the people’s consciousness, for only then can there be a revival of the popular will” (10). Together with all his fears regarding the development of events for the Jewish people, Vygotsky appears to be full of optimistic expectations. It would seem that at that moment he believed in the possibility of both general and personal unfettered self-realization, and that life in Russia was truly changing for the better. With the February and the October revolutions of 1917 in Russia, Vygotsky underwent another “key experience,” appearing to validate his quest for integrative synthesis between the Jews of Russia and Russian society and culture. After a deep crisis facing uncertainty and turmoil with all his passion and energy, the young Vygotsky threw himself into the task of realizing the apparently unlimited possibilities opened to all sectors of the population by the Revolution.33

33 Some time in 1916, Vygotsky wrote an as yet unpublished essay entitled “Socialism or Zionism?” Both his youthful education and his subsequent actions indicate that Vygotsky fully supported the idea of a socialist society as the most just and egalitarian form of life for Russia. How he argues the case will be known only when his archive is fully published or opened for scholarly inspection.

CHAPTER 5

Vygotsky’s Creative Work Bella Kotik-Friedgut

5.1  FROM OPTIMISM TO DESPAIR In the summer of 1917, having returned to Gomel’ from Moscow, Vygotsky sent an account of the Jewish political parties’ participation in the Gomel’ Municipal Duma elections to Novyi put’ (Vygotsky 1917b). Following a factual statistical account of the election results, he analyzes the state of consciousness of the Jewish community without touching on ideologies or supporting any one of the Jewish parties. Once more he is critical of the partisan antagonisms rife within the Jewish community. “In general, the elections reflected quite accurately the public life of the city. In everything public life is focused within the parties.... The great Jewish problems and the practical general Jewish questions slip by all their activities. For the local population, the impression is created that all this is happening in some far off locality…. This should not be understood as public apathy. The opposite is true ... all around there are fierce conflicts of tastes and of outlooks … ripping apart the irreconcilable sections of the community” (30).1 It is thus evident to us that he has no sympathy for what is happening in the Jewish community of Gomel’, and in no way does he link himself to the intra-party struggles. We can only be reminded of his earlier words in the essay, Avodim Hainu—that the people is larger than any party, and history is greater than any program.

1 A similar picture of intra-communal antagonisms at this time is given in Vladimir Bogoraz-Tan 1926: 157-58.

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We know that during much of the German occupation of Gomel’ (March 1918-January 1919) and the Civil War when the town changed hands among Reds, Whites and others, Vygotsky was preoccupied with family matters. Part of the time, he was in Samara, then in Kiev, where he met the writers Il’ya Ehrenburg and Viacheslav Ivanov (Feigenberg 1996: 54). During this time he also appears to have written at least two littleknown essays of literary criticism.2 In Kiev he also published an analytic paper “Theater and Revolution” (1919, signed VygoDsky), which is not included in any list of Vygotsky’s publications.3 Recent publication (Zavershneva 2012, 2013) based on analysis of unpublished texts and personal notes from Vygotsky’s archive give us a new view on his personality and the emotional turmoil that he experienced during this period: the first World War, the period of the February and October Revolutions, and the Civil War. From those manuscripts devoted mainly to the Jewish question, it appears that on the eve of the February Revolution and even after it had occurred, L. S. Vygotsky was in opposition to socialism and critical of the writings of Karl Marx, and called for the renaissance of a true faith, Judaism. By 1919 he was on the other side of the barricade: Marxism had become the fundamental path for his thinking in science, in literature and in theatrical criticism. In his notes written in Samara in 1917 (Zavershneva 2013: 7), Vygotsky proclaims the death of Judaism: “it has outlived itself; it has renounced God and fallen into heathenism. The Jews are no longer willing to bear the heavy burden of being God’s Chosen, to live in the Diaspora and to be persecuted. Having cut their tie to God they now seek comfort, tranquility, and safety. Losing the highest significance of their existence, the Jews brought about their extirpation as a nation. However, the death of Judaism is a cleansing fire. And beyond these limits, where a living people has died, an ancient dying God is 2 See the essay by Roman Timenchik, “Zabytaia statia L’va Vygotskogo” (1995). The items mentioned in Professor Timenchik’s note do not appear in T. M. Lifanova’s bibliography of Vygotsky’s writings in Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 390-411. She gives no listings whatsoever for 1918 and 1919, and only one for 1920. See Feigenberg 1996: 55, for a hint that writings from Vygotsky’s Kiev period do indeed exist. 3 In the collection Poetry and Prose of the Russian Revolution (Kiev, 1919), published using the old style alphabet; today it is a rarity because in the period of repression of “enemies of the people” it was removed from Russian libraries.

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resurrected for much the same human stability and comfort, unless retribution, exile and death….” In the chapters “What Will be the Ending?” and “Whither?,” Vygotsky writes that it is impossible to hide oneself from retribution, and quotes the prophet Jeremiah: “…if they say to thee, whither shall we depart? Then thou shalt tell them, Thus says the Lord: Such as are for death to death and such as are for the sword to the sword and such as are for the famine to the famine; and such as are for the captivity to the captivity….” ( Jeremiah 15:2). (Zavershneva 2013: 7) The sole route to salvation is to reconstitute the true faith which, however, is at its deepest nadir. Any attempts to find a different basis for national reunification are doomed to failure. It is mainly because of the specific unclear social and political situation of crisis in all spheres of life. He does not see any light at the end of the tunnel. He is critical of all optimistic theories. His chapter “About Optimists” contains a kind of apocalyptic prophecy, and the last word and the first word of all theory: “Things are going to be just fine.” Do you think that this is a vulgarization of the ruling theories? Not in the least. This is even too feeble a way of expressing that divine optimism by which all live in these cold days. “Things are going to be just fine.” Things are going to be just fine? No! Things are going to be very bad. Moreover I think they will be worse than they have ever yet been. As a matter of fact, the days of the Inquisition have passed, but they will seem to have been a paradise in comparison with what is yet to be. Can the forms which this evil will take be presented in concrete form? The hatred evinced by cultured and enlightened peoples is worse than that of savages and fanatics. All kinds of deaths and horrors are approaching. The anger and retribution of God is terrible. Everything that has been up to now will appear as a trifle compared with what is already on the way, what is knocking at our doors. Everything will vanish. A slaughter is on the march. Then you will search for a word to describe it and find none. Perhaps this will bring you to remember the words of Ezekiel: “And when I looked, behold, a hand was sent to me, and lo, a scroll of a book was in it, and he spread it before me, and it was written inside and outside, and in it was written lamentations and mourning and woe” (Ezekiel 2:8-10).(Zavershneva 2012: 89)

It seems that this was a very important turbulence leading to a turning point in his thoughts, experiences and activities. When Vygotsky returned to Gomel’ and the city’s life began to revive, he was finally able to work. He was now able to engage in work from which Jews had previously been excluded—teaching in public schools and not only in the

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Jewish gymnasiia. He taught philosophy, literature, and logic, and most important for his future, he taught psychology and created a psychology laboratory for experimentation and research. He taught at several institutions simultaneously and even took some part in the founding and development of a publishing company (Feigenberg 1996: 56-57; Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 46-47). His interest in culture and art rooted in his early work on Hamlet is revealed in many of his literary and theatrical reviews published almost every week (over eighty articles and notes) in local newspapers in 1922-1923.4 He writes on literature, cinema, reviews performances of both local and visiting troupes of Jewish, Russian, and Belorussian theater, and a proposed theatrical technicum (college). In these publications the ideas of the future Psychology of Art were germinated (Kotik-Friedgut 2012). In an article devoted to A. S. Serafimovich, he opens with a discussion of a story by Garshin about a student in a teachers’ seminary: “The hero ... believes that being a teacher of the people is more worthy than being an artist. But all the same, not everyone chose teaching. Not everyone rejected art. There were those who continued to create both on canvas and in books” (Vygotsky 1923g: 3). It would appear that Vygotsky was writing first of all about himself (for this is only the introduction to an essay about Serafimovich). Here we see a repetition of the pattern of behavior from 1913, when he enrolled in two separate universities simultaneously so as to reconcile the conflict between his parents’ wishes and his own aspirations. Once again, faced with an “either-or” situation, he mobilizes his enormous energy for creative work to form a harmonious synthesis from what appear to be irreconcilable opposites, engaging both in teaching and writing, in both literature and psychology simultaneously. Here he took upon himself the role of educator in both activities. His criticisms were aimed on the one hand at forming a demanding cultural audience and on the other, literature and theater, which could rightfully be called art. Thus, in discussing the role of Belorussian theatre, he writes: “The educative potential of this theatre for the population of our rural localities is immense…. A Belorussian literary language can be their key to the entire 4 It is only recently that some of these publications were republished in Russian. See http:// www.psyanima.ru/journal/2011/4/index.php And other early publications, scanned from original newspapers, can be found at http://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Библиография_ Выготского (accessed Jul. 1, 2014).

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Russian and world literature” (1923h: 3). At the same time, he objects to a theater characterized by “an embellished and sugar-coated ethnography that smacks of children’s productions” (1923f: 3). In his essay “On Children’s Theatre,” Vygotsky the pedagogue poses the question of whether this should be “theatre for children or a theatre of children?” (1923e: 4). In writing of Belorussian literature, he defines its task as raising its artistic level so that it might take a worthy place in world literature. “The time has come for Belorussian literature to exchange the tones of the shepherd’s pipe for those of the grand piano. In doing this, the main task is to preserve the native aroma of the cornflower, while mastering the complex themes and harmonies of contemporary musical poetry” (1923h: 3). For Vygotsky, theater in the provinces did not necessarily have to be provincial. “Wherever there is life, excitement is to be found…. Just as electricity is not only present in lightning, but is also present wherever there is a 25 candlepower light bulb. In the same way, poetry and art inhabit not only grand creations, but also the 16-candle stage of the provinces….” (1923a: 3). Remarking on a Jewish operetta, Vygotsky has the same sharp criticisms that may be found in his reviews of Russian and Belorussian theater. “A trifle became decidedly heavy—with all sharing the weight. Jewishness was laid heavily on Silva….” (1923b: 3). Elsewhere, he says: “The Jewish operetta is not satisfied with a joke. It wants to be both tragedy and farce together, with a pinch of homespun philosophy, and something of the synagogue” (1923d: 3). At the same time he displays his knowledge of and respect for tradition. “The lyrical material in the everyday Jewish dance is not utilized fully” (1923b: 3). In another essay on the Jewish theatre: “This slapstick has the rudiments of pure theatre. But ‘slapstickiness,’ like theatricality is intolerable.... A different way must be found” (1923c: 3). We can see that as a rule, these reviews end with a recommendation, a wish, a call revealing the active stance of an architect of a new culture. At this point it is difficult to discern any difference between his belonging to the Jewish culture as compared to his other many-sided activities. He sees the revolution as having given the Jews full equality with all the other ethnic groups of Soviet Russia and his loyalties and energy can now be turned to a general solution for the universal human condition. However, with regard to the influence of Vygotsky’s Jewish environment and upbringing on his work in

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this period, two points may be touched upon. First, we may note that from late March to mid-April 1923, three out of four columns are devoted to discussion of the Jewish theatre. During the course of the year other such discussions also appeared in his columns. This is evidence of the continuing Jewish prominence in Gomel’ and its culture and Vygotsky’s ongoing concern that this culture be of high artistic quality. The second point is a reflection on Vygotsky’s self-image. There has been a suggestion that Vygotsky, in his uncompromising expression of his beliefs, drew on Martin Luther as a role model.5 However, as we noted early in our discussion, Spinoza appears to be a rather more likely role model. In addition, in his theatre criticism, Vygotsky brings another Jewish figure: “Bar Kochba6 is not only a historically true figure as a warrior and revolutionary against the Roman oppression and against a national-religious philosophy of life … [but also] as an active and revolutionary figure of the new generation— against tradition….” (Vygotsky 1923d: 3). As in other cases, we find a strong suggestion of autobiographical introspection in these words, with Vygotsky seeing his own situation in having embraced a Marxist outlook and throwing himself wholeheartedly into building a society that he believes will be humane and egalitarian, although it has banned the traditional and religious institutions of the Jewish community, as analogous to that he attributes to Bar Kochba, and perhaps also to his role model-teacher, Baruch Spinoza, whom he saw also as a representative of a new generation rebelling against the frozen strictures of a religious establishment.

5.2  A LIFE IN PSYCHOLOGY (1924-1934) Beginnings “I am well acquainted with those minutes and hours of helplessness, with the spirit and the will fainting, with the deeply bitter taste—near despair…. Such conditions have been part of my development since childhood, strictly speaking, from its end and the beginning of adolescence and youth, and so, all of these stages through which I passed are preserve within us in a condensed 5 See Meshcheriakov 2000, seen at http://ihtik.lib.ru (accessed Oct. 9, 2006). The evidence offered for the claim appears to this author rather weak. 6 Bar Kochba was the leader of a revolt against the Roman empire in 132 C.E. that lasted three years.

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state. And in this condensed state, they form a subterranean layer of our life, constituting a nourishing environment in which the roots of many of our most momentous decisions had their beginnings...” (Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 165-66). He states that most important decisions are rooted in deep emotional experiences, and, as we see, the Jewish theme was the source of most profound feelings and thoughts of young Vygotsky. Though later, when he completely devoted himself to research in human development, there are no known papers dealing explicitly with the Jewish question or Judaism, but as we will try to show all his upbringing, thoughts, and experiences were leading to the cultural-historical approach. We can also mention that at the same time his cousin David Vygodsky, with whom Lev Vygotsky was very close, dealt with Hebrew and Yiddish literature and poetry (Vygodsky 1922, 1936) and it is reasonable to suppose that David shared his knowledge and discussed with Lev some aspects of the Jewish culture. We do not aim to describe in detail the theory of L. S. Vygotsky, because his works are now translated into many languages and widely known. We suppose that a reader who is interested in his biography is already familiar with his ideas (Valsiner and Van der Veer 2000). Our main purpose is to reveal the importance and influence of his Jewish identity on his psychological ideas. It seems also relevant to try to clarify the reasons and factors that influenced the actuality and popularity of his ideas in the twenty-first century. To the very end of 1923, Vygotsky continued his intensive, manifold activities in Gomel’. In January of 1924, his lectures at the Second All-Russian Psychoneurological Congress changed the course of his life.

5.3  THE INFLUENCE OF JEWISH BACKGROUND ON VYGOTSKY’S PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY Developments In 1924, Vygotsky moved to Moscow and dedicated himself solely to psychology. Vygotsky’s main ideas were formulated before his death from tuberculosis in 1934, and though he was already well known and widely accepted in international scientific circles, they were ignored in the Soviet Union and

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were silenced after the decree by the Central Committee of the Communist Party forbidding the practice of paedology. Beginning in 1936, Vygotsky’s writings were banned until the renunciation of Stalinism in 1956. Vygotsky’s ideas about the human-specific cultural-historical nature of cognitive development were re-introduced in the West only after the translation into English of his book Language and Thought in 1962 with an introduction by Jerome Bruner, and even more in the 1980s after publication in Moscow of the six volumes of the selected works of Vygotsky, which were immediately translated into English. Ever since these first publications, the popularity of his ideas has steadily increased all over the world and Language and Thought is now translated into many languages (to our best knowledge the latest translations are in Hebrew and Korean). Let us try to delineate some factors underpinning the wide popularity of Vygotsky’s ideas in the modern world and how it is related to his Jewish background. Mankind has always been interested in finding the most effective way of dealing with children: educating them (transmitting values), teaching (transmitting knowledge and useful skills). The basic ideas varied on a continuum from a genetic approach on the one extreme (everything depends on nature, genes in modern terms) to nurture (the child is “tabula rasa” and the experience, i.e. ways of upbringing) determines the final result: what kind of a human being will grow. Thus any kind of pedagogical practice is formed explicitly or implicitly by beliefs and knowledge about how the child learns. At the time when Vygotsky developed his main ideas, the behaviorist school was dominant in psychology and the underlying philosophy tended to see development as a result of learning through experience. Most of the experiments attempting to reveal the mechanisms of learning were conducted on animals. Animals really can learn and in manipulating the conditions of animal learning (including reinforcement, etc.), conclusions were drawn as to how humans learn. The development of language and thinking was seen as a process of accumulation of repetitive stimuli and reactions. In 1959, Noam Chomsky severely criticized this approach regarding the development of language in children. The contribution of Chomsky to modern linguistics is remarkable, but he tried to understand how the human mind works, based on the structure of language. Vygotsky’s approach is basically different: human-specific activities—social interaction and dealing with historically developed artifacts of

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culture—are seen as primary sources of development in general and development of language and thought in particular. Later, in the middle of the twentieth century, the computer metaphor that dominated in cognitive psychology was also a source of some disappointment: overlooking social-cultural aspects of human development and activities lead to the lack of ecological validity. Thus Vygotsky’s approach was rediscovered. “Already in the middle of the 1920s he made a deep historical and methodological survey of the state of affairs in psychology in ‘The historical significance of the crisis in psychology’” (Vygotsky 1982). Of course, every generation of psychologists has proclaimed a crisis in psychology or of psychology. But Vygotsky’s case is something special; having discovered the historical meaning of the crisis, he proposed an alternative approach in methodology, known as “cultural-historical theory” (Veresov 2010: 269). Aaro Toomela also emphasized the fact that “many modern theories tend to be non-developmental the same thinking processes are assumed to operate at all stages of development. Instead of qualitative changes in development only quantitative changes are postulated.” In contrast, “the Vygotskian approach was free from these and several other deficiencies” (Toomela 2010: 2). Thus, the main reason for the growing popularity of Vygotskian methodology is that by highlighting the main human-specific characteristics of activity and development, it gave a platform for several new fields of research with practical applications in education (Moll, 1992; Lantolf, Poehner, 2011), and in neuropsychology (Luria 1973; Goldberg 2009; Ardila 1995, 2013; KotikFriedgut 2006; Kotik-Friedgut, Ardila, 2014). Theories of language and language acquisition, which are known as usage-based theories, were inspired by Vygotsky’s ideas. Included among these theories is cognitive-functional linguistics, which is reflected in the writings of Langacker (1987) and Tomasello (2003). Analyzing human-specific modes of development, Vygotsky in his Language and Thought presented an analysis of the separate roots of language and thinking and how after convergence they are intertwined and related. While he tried to study pure thinking using nonsense words in order to study development of concepts in children, he emphasized that in any real-life situation, a child acquires language in communication with adults. Thus the social

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source of language development was introduced, and became an inspiration of the interest of Basil Bernstein and continues in modern studies of socio-cultural aspects of children’s cognitive development (Bruner 1987; Bodrova, Leong 2007). An important concept in Vygotsky’s revolutionary theory was the social situation of development. In this view of development it is not just the child that changes, nor is it the environment that changes, but it is the child’s relations to the environment that change. This concept allows for dynamics, for a dialectical approach to development (Kravtsov and Kravtsova 2011). The social aspects of cognitive development rooted in Vygotsky’s ideas were important for overcoming the dominance of the Piagetian approach to ontogenetic development of thinking because Piaget differentiated learning and development as two independent and separate entities, considering development to be wholly a result of the child’s own experience. According to Vygotsky, learning can and does promote development. Normally the child develops not in isolation, but in a certain cultural and social environment. Other people, both adults and peers, are at all times mediating between the culture (knowledge about the world, traditions, values, technologies, etc.) existing in a certain society in a specific historical situation and the child developing his picture of the world. Such understanding of the role of learning in development led to the introduction of the concept of Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD), which was later supplemented with the metaphor of “scaffolding” (Wood, Bruner, and Ross 1976). These concepts operationalized the analysis of a system of interaction and its dynamics between a learning child and a more knowledgeable adult or peer and gave a framework for further research and pedagogical practice. The emphasis on agency is characteristic for Jewish educational tradition: it is accented and culminated in important ceremonies. In Bar Mitzvah orations it is stressed that a boy becomes responsible for his choices and that he has to follow the rules and prescriptions of righteous relations with his society. During group preparation for the ceremony in some communities children repeat as a mantra: “all depends on me.” The development of agency, of controllability of behavior, is one of the important aspects in development of higher psychological functions. Jewish teachings in particular take personal agency and accountability a step further, to a shared responsibility for the condition and actions of one’s community. One is responsible not

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only for one’s own sin or health but also for accepting and tolerating sin (e.g., injustice) in one’s community or nation. Shalom is not merely personal peace of mind, but the communal state of ordered peace and justice that God intends (Miller and Delaney 2005). Vygotsky’s approach introduced the concept of higher psychological functions that are based on natural biological functions but are humanspecific. This concept became a basis for Alexander Romanovich Luria in the development of modern neuropsychology. Specifically the role of cultural artifacts as mediators (both material and symbolic, external and interiorized) is one of the basic tenets of Lurian neuropsychology. With reference to Vygotsky, he formulated a principle of “extracortical organization of higher mental functions” (Luria 1973: 31). This is one of the most important aspects of Vygotsky’s ideas. The psyche is positioned “beyond the internal and the external,” as pointed out by Dmitry Leontiev (2005). According to Daniel Elkonin, Vygotsky was a founder of non-classical psychology, which is “the science of the way the subjective world of a single person emerges from the objective world of art, the world of productive tools, the world of the entire industry” (Elkonin 1989: 478). The role of mediation became an important aspect in research and practice of education. The role of external factors (stimulus-mediator, symbol) in establishing functional connections between various brain systems, is, in principle, universal. However, inasmuch as differing mediators and means, or significantly different details within them, e.g., direction of writing, orientation by map or by the behavior of sea-birds, etc., may and in fact do develop in different cultures, neuropsychological analysis must necessarily take into account cross-cultural differences. This thought stimulated development of a new line of research in cultural neuropsychology (Ardila 1995; Kennepohl 1999; Fletcher-Jensen, Strickland and Reinolds 2000; Kotik-Friedgut 2006; Kotik-Friedgut, Ardila 2014). Jewish motifs continued to live in Vygotsky’s consciousness. One may find in his psychological texts references to Jewish scriptures, some of which have been so deeply absorbed into Western culture that only a specialist will know their origin. One such is “the stone, rejected by the builders, has become the capstone of the corner” (Psalms 118:22; in Vygotsky 1934/1982: 79). This sentence is used by Vygotsky to sum up a discussion in which he argues that

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factors neglected or rejected by numerous psychologists (e.g., Piaget) are the key to understanding child development. He also used this sentence as an epigraph to one of the most important papers, “The Historical Significance of the Crisis in Psychology,” which made such an impression on A. R. Luria and others that Vygotsky was invited to work in Moscow. At the beginning of his Moscow career, Vygotsky was active in what is called in Russia “defectology,” elsewhere known as “special education.”7 His studies of child development and education began with the treating of blind and deaf-mute children. He never called these children “defective” or “handicapped,” but insisted that with proper care and assistance they could all develop themselves and attain the same levels as their peers. His first academic appearance abroad, at a conference of psychologists in Great Britain in 1925, was devoted to discussing this work. He approached the problems of special cases of development as social ones. “A blind person will remain blind and a deaf person deaf, but they will cease to be handicapped because a handicapped condition is only a social concept.... Blindness by itself does not make a child handicapped” (Vygotsky 1924/1984: 72). Explaining the social basis of treating blind or deaf-mute children, Vygotsky wrote: “The blindness of an American farmer’s daughter, of a Ukrainian landowner’s son, of a German duchess, of a Russian peasant, of a Swedish proletarian—these are all psychologically entirely different facts” (Vygotsky 1984: 70). One can easily imagine that at the back of his mind when formulating this approach, he heard the above biblical injunction. His early education had given him a moral principle on which to build his scientific outlook. In relation to Vygotsky’s approach to defectology, we can also see the influence of Judaism both in his general approach and in specific references. Attitudes toward disabilities, especially blindness and deafness, were throughout the ages discussed in Jewish writings because of the question of the individual’s ability to participate in religious practices and ceremonies and to follow Jewish commandments (mitzvoth). Talmudic law restricted the legal rights of deaf people because they could not speak and ask proper questions 7 See detailed discussion on the problem of translation of the term defectology and different connotations in the west and in Russian in Gindis 1999.

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about Torah and thus were dependent on other people, who may mislead them. But over the past 300 years, with development of hearing aids and techniques to develop communication and schools for deaf people, legal restrictions were gradually abolished (Feldman 1986). The ability to communicate was an important point in the Jewish attitude toward deaf people. Vygotsky made it a central aim in his development of practices in special education. Generally Jewish texts praise intellect, beauty, and completeness: “A wise son brings joy to his father” (Proverbs 10:1). But at the same time, the Jewish concepts of charity and kindness are a basis and a motivation for educating and rehabilitating the exceptional child. Judaism seeks to reduce the dependency of the exceptional person and to aid him to achieve autonomy. The assumption that observing commandments serves as an entree into Jewish society reinforces the trend to include the exceptional person wherever and whenever possible, expressing a humane and protective attitude toward the disabled (Melamed-Cohen 2002). “Thou shalt not curse the deaf and do not place a stumbling block before the blind” (Leviticus 19:14). Who can be so cruel as to do so? It could be interpreted rather as providing more actively help the deaf and the blind (Feldman 1986). It happens that in explaining some problems, Vygotsky presents an association that attests to the fact that his Jewish upbringing, although it has receded into the background, is still a strong influence. Thus, analyzing the development of concepts in children, Vygotsky writes: “Just as some ancient biblical clan, existing as a distinct family unit, dreamed of multiplying and becoming as innumerable as the stars of the sky or as the sands of the seashore, exactly so is it with the diffuse complex of the child’s thinking….” (1934/1982: 147). The image is taken directly from the Old Testament (Genesis 22:16). He also refers to Talmud, citing a reference to the blind as “a man with an abundance of light,” saying: “Solomon found wisdom in the blind because they do not take a step without first searching for ground to stand on” (Vygotsky 1984: 87). Vygotsky regarded himself as a universal human being: it is sufficient to remind ourselves of the breadth of his erudition, how he entered as an equal into discussions with scholars speaking and writing in a number of languages. At the same time, throughout all of his pedagogical activity and in his writings, he preaches that humanistically inclined social and political thought recognizes the necessity of a cultural integration based on the careful safeguarding and

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coexistence of different cultures. “…National forms of development present us with an indisputable and mighty historical fact…. However, it is important that we avoid a fundamental error…. An excessive cult of folkism, intensifying the national element in human behavior, cultivates nationalism in pupils instead of national consciousness. A national coloration of human behavior, like any cultural achievement, may be regarded as a supreme human value, but only when it does not become a cage, limiting the individual, like a snail in its shell, shut off from all external influences…. Being true to one’s people is being true to one’s own individuality, and is the only normal and honest way to behave” (1926/1991: 244-45). Spinoza’s principle of not accepting the authority of established institutions when they contradict intelligence and scientific observation might well have influenced Vygotsky when he spoke at the 1924 Leningrad psychoneurological congress. In his lecture, he attacked the ruling school of behaviorist “reflexological” (Bekhterovian-Pavlovian) psychology as a basis for all psychology, though this was a school which at that time had the support of both the academic establishment and the Soviet authorities.8 By the time that he appeared at this conference, Vygotsky considered himself a Marxist. He had turned to Marxism not as a cure-all to the world’s ills, but rather as a methodology that might help him solve the contradictions with which he had struggled in his writing of The Psychology of Art ( Joravsky 1989a: 193). However, his dialectic was that of Spinoza rather than Hegel and his materialism, like Spinoza’s, made room for the influence of both the mental and spiritual in humans. Indeed, it was precisely on this point that Vygotsky had voiced his criticisms of behaviorist theories. As Professor Zinchenko has remarked, Vygotsky drew more from Spinoza than from Marx (2004: 86). Indeed, a newly-published fragment of Vygotsky’s own notes contains the injunction “to enliven Marxist psychology by Spinozism” (Zavershneva and Surmava 2006). There were other, earlier, observers who cast doubt on the Marxism of the “educator from the provinces” who burst upon the Soviet psychological scene so suddenly in 1924. Reviewing the conference, a journalist wrote that “the young psychologist, L. S. Vygotsky’s report on the methodology of 8 On the political and scientific context and consequences of Vygotsky’s action see Andy Blunden 2006. The substance of Vygotsky’s lecture appears in L. S. Vygotsky 1982: 43-62.

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reflexological psychology was worthy of special notice among those of the ‘middle roaders’ who had set out on the road of scientific objectivism, but had not yet turned decisively to dialectical materialism” (Dayan 1924a: 164). With the passing of the years and the growing pressures of politics on all fields of inquiry in the Soviet Union, the criticism of Vygotsky’s theories and methodology intensified. As had happened so often in his childhood, he again found himself classed as “other”—this time, not because he was a Jew, but because he was an “insincere Marxist.” Aleksandr Shapiro recounts being told by one of his professors of her conversation with Vygotsky in which he is quoted as saying: “I want to die. They don’t consider me a sincere Marxist” (1996: 23-27). Marxism and the socialist revolution were to have been his tools for achieving the synthesis that he had sought all his life. They were to have allowed him to contribute fully to creating a free new human in a free new society, and Marxism, even if Spinozan in content, was to have served as a methodology assisting him in developing his general unified theory of human psychology.9 In the end this was denied him during his life, and only thirty or more years after his death has he been fully accepted as a psychologist, not only in Russia, but throughout the world. There were two more personages who were a source of inspirations for Vygotsky: one was Hamlet. We should take note that Vygotsky started to think and write about “The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,” which is a major part of the Psychology of Art, when he was still in gymnasiia and later was presented as his senior thesis for graduation from the Shaniavsky Free University. Another model for Vygotsky was Moses. In his last notes, written by Vygotsky not long before his death (Zavershneva 2008) we find reference to these two heroes, and therefore accented significance falls on Moses, while Hamlet remains with the key citation, his last words before his death. (Written in the final section of the Book of Fragments): “N. B. Pro domo suo.”10

  9 Andrew Heinze (2004: 405, no. 26), finds a similarity between Buber and Vygotsky in that both of them believed that psychology was in general crisis and that the solution lay in a single unifying theory based on meaningful human activity. 10 According to Zavershneva’s note (2012), «Pro domo suo» is a not an exact citation of Cicero’s speech “In defense of his own home,” i.e. Vygotsky refers to his own professional activity; an exact title was «De domo sua (ad pontifices oratio)».

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“This is my last deed in psychology—and I will die at the summit, like Moses, gazing at the Promised Land, but never entering it. Forgive me, beloved creations. The rest is silence” (Zavershneva 2012). In these final personal notes, Vygotsky is reminding himself of two of his favorite heroes: Moses and Hamlet.

5.4 CONCLUSION We have examined the world of the young Lev Semionovich Vygotsky. In his formative years it was an intensely Jewish world. His town, his friends, and above all his family had a strong Jewish identity. In his intellectual activities, he expressed an interest in Jewish History and in the problem of antisemitism. Lev was raised to give this a humanistic and cultural-historical interpretation, and this natural inclination was reinforced by what he found in his readings of Spinoza, an influence that remained with him throughout his life. Spinoza, who as previously mentioned defied authority wherever it contradicted reason and intelligence, was an attractive role model for the young Vygotsky. Vygotsky’s life was spent in search of a synthesis in which he and the world about him would be in full harmony. To this day, the world lacks the Spinozan harmony and social enlightenment that Vygotsky so much wanted to discover. One may nevertheless firmly believe that, even though he had to overcome a deep crisis during the years of a global turmoil, Lev Vygotsky did succeed in achieving a personal Spinozan synthesis. Having chosen a life in science, he remained true to his people, and first and foremost to himself, while still “defiantly superior to ethnic labeling” ( Joravsky 1989b: 254) and dedicating himself to serving universal human values. Throughout his career as a psychologist, from his first writings as a student in Moscow through to his deathbed publication, Thinking and Language (Myshlenie i rech’), along with generalizing from the essence of his own life experience, Jewish history and culture absorbed in his childhood were the most repeated framework of reference within which he generated and expressed his innovative ideas. Anyone who has ever participated in a traditional Jewish Passover Seder can easily see the cultural-historical nature of Judaism and the importance of value transmission from generation to generation. The entire service is conducted under the injunction “and you shall tell it to your son,” and the

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ceremony is replete with symbols, songs, and questions designed to stimulate the interest of the children present. The items on the central plate, the three matzot, the wine (with a cup set aside for Elijah the Prophet for whom one of the children will open the door), the division of the ceremony into sections with symbolic eating and drinking, with the main meal in the middle and the climax of a “treasure hunt” and the songs coming in the second half, all are structured toward encouraging the future generations to absorb the historical message and to enjoy and participate in the ceremonial evening. Nothing could be more cultural-historical nor more clearly and explicitly mediated through use of symbols. Andrew Heinze defines a Jewish point of view as one that either “derives from Judaism or Jewish culture, or reflects a state of mind shared by Jews in response to bigotry or social ostracism” (Heinze 2004: 4). We have presented repeated examples of such expressions, both Biblical and Spinozan, from Vygotsky’s earlier literary writings, through his later psychological works, down to the very last of them, Thinking and Language.

CHAPTER 6

Bernstein’s Life and Work in the Light of Jewish Tradition Antonella Castelnuovo

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n introducing a comparison between Bernstein’s work and Judaism, we want to primarily reflect on the person himself, in order to position him within a framework of the culture of his own country and that of the Jewish tradition. As a sociologist, but first and foremost as a modern thinker, Basil Bernstein delineated new and original paths not only for British sociology but also for linguistic and socio-cultural studies in general. Despite his wide variety of interests, Bernstein did not feel fully at ease within any of the well-recognized academic disciplines which he explored during his life. This was due to the fact that he was an independent, original thinker. Thus, his position could well

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represent the first question for our socio-cultural analysis, which will be directly linked to his Jewish heritage. In fact, Bernstein was Jewish. He was born as such and continued to be so throughout his entire life. Unfortunately, this dimension of his existence has been rarely taken into consideration in examining his oeuvre. This has given rise to numerous conjectures and a certain degree of criticism regarding his crossing the boundaries between many different areas of knowledge. Very often Jews living in Diaspora do not fit entirely into the social domain of their host countries. People like Freud, Einstein, and Kafka, to mention but a few, became famous in their respective fields because they were free thinkers. This position was due to the fact that they often found themselves between two worlds, living in an unbalanced situation which made them less inclined to be shaped by their hosting societies. By treating Bernstein’s work in the light of the essential features of Judaism, we wish to pursue the idea that the Jewish tradition had an influence on his work. However, this hypothesis only partially meets the possibility that Judaism would represent the central force that shaped his oeuvre as a whole. The Jewish element in Bernstein may represent the hidden platform of his background from which he had developed his ideas. As so far this element has not been explicitly acknowledged, it must be discovered in the underlying depths of his messages. The hypothesis that Bernstein’s general orientation towards the principles of Judaism reveals his Jewish intellectual heritage cannot be solely linked to the fact that he was born and raised a Jew. Despite the existence of many different Jewish traditions, Judaism offers common values to believers to the extent that they can be considered part of a common culture. If so, it would be too easy to claim that, since he was born a Jew, his essential Jewishness should accompany him through the rest of his life. Here, we make no attempt to solely base our thinking on a Jewish essentialist attitude towards Bernstein’s work. This position would ignore the possibility that other non-Jewish elements affected Bernstein’s way of thinking, irrespective of the later socio-cultural influences he was subjected to. Nevertheless, we believe that Bernstein’s relationship to Judaism, resulting from his childhood and referring to a very private sphere of his existence, remained implicit and “unvoiced.” This could be one of the reasons why it was not acknowledged in his writings, besides the fact that

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Jewishness may not have constituted an element of his life that he would have brought to the fore. With this in mind, our investigation will involve searching for the links with Judaism in Bernstein’s writings, hidden within the semantic of his own code. This will be revealed through the way he grasped knowledge of the world, assembling concepts through the interlocking cultural systems which he absorbed over the course of his life. These systems were related to disciplinary fields such as linguistics, anthropology, and sociology, which Bernstein managed to formulate in a constant dialogue, one with the other, in his theoretical work. Thus, Bernstein’s relationship with Judaism as a potential source of inspiration requires, on our part, the search for an invisible thread which could disclose the different layers connecting his theory to the Jewish tradition. The keys for our interpretation must be based on the ground rules that regulated the underlying structure of Bernstein’s own discourse, looking at not what he said, but how he said it. Our endeavor must recognize that Bernstein’s discourse primarily represents a model illustrating the cultural matrix of contemporary societies, hence the content of his theory is certainly very far from that of the Judaism found in the Torah. In this respect, Bernstein’s conceptual formulations may not allow for a straight-forward comparison with meanings expressed in Judaism. However, Bernstein was a sociologist interested in social phenomena indiscernibly linked to culture. Similarly, Judaism as a religious faith is holistically conceived with facts of culture, and it is on this common ground that both discourses may share certain processes, properties, and allegiances. A comparison between the two discourses is concerned first and foremost with the way in which concepts and messages are arranged and conveyed. In particular, in our search, we wish to point out analogies and parallels regarding the vision of man in society that both Bernstein and Judaism offer in their discourses. Thus, we will attempt to relate Bernstein’s ideas to the worldview expressed by the Jewish tradition, aimed at shaping the life of the Jewish people, their identity, and their consciousness.

6.1  THE MAN AND THE MENTOR Before illustrating the excursus on Bernstein’s work interpreted in a Jewish light, I would like to provide a synthetic view of him as a man and as a mentor,

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recalling a few aspects from when I worked with him for a few years as a post-graduate student in the 1980s. From this experience, I can sum up his main characteristic in one word—honesty. Bernstein was, first and foremost, honest to himself. Indeed, he was a difficult person, full of great light but also dark shadows, which he never hid from himself or from others. Sometimes, this aspect of his personality created an uneasiness and discomfort in his relations with others. His “mercurial” moods made you feel insecure, especially if you were a student, as I had been at the time I met him. But precisely because of this, the rapport was always a true relationship, often without the mask of bourgeois rituals and social stereotyping. There was a reciprocity, very demanding for both parties involved. Bernstein always tried to understand and help students with their work, but the student had to understand the man. This was the price one paid to be able to work with him as one of his students. In this way, there emerged a true meeting of minds and actual creative moments, which are often so rare nowadays, especially between a mentor and a pupil. The same can be said of his theory, even if this is uncomfortable for many of his critics to accept. It is a true theory in the sense that it provides a way to understand reality as it is, to see ourselves through the reflection of our own culture without a mirror, with its subsequent distortions and limitations. Among the many comments on the man and his theory, I recall that Bernstein has been defined as “someone who offered an alternative perspective to society and its underlying problems.” Indeed, I can now understand, retrospectively, how he deserved this designation, so deeply linked to the Jewish tradition. Abraham was the first man to be named ivri—Jew—which in Hebrew means “a man who is on the other side” (Löwenthal 1996: 7). This nameattribute refers to a basic change in positioning, a shift that lies at the origins of the Jewish people, allowing them to escape from homologation and idolatry. It is from this perspective that I wish to position Bernstein’s work, which led Jews and non-Jews alike from the cage of mystification to the freedom of dissent. In some ways, for me, this study represents a small tribute to my past, to Bernstein, as my teacher and mentor, who opened up new possibilities for the future towards the challenges that, nowadays, are presented to all of us by the societies we live in. Personally, I believe that despite his dismissal of his work on language (Bernstein 1996: 147), Bernstein’s early studies on speech remain one of the most honest and creative pieces produced in recent years, and there is still

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room for new exploration and discoveries. For this reason, I will also concentrate on the early years of his work, as I believe they constitute the generative matrix of his later productions. *** Basil Bernstein was one of the most controversial sociologists of our time. The reasons for this are many and complex to understand. While he dedicated a third of his life to developing and refining a sociological theory of symbolic order, he also highlighted the strengths and weaknesses in our social system and how this is reproduced and transmitted through education. To achieve this, he was mainly concerned with speech and meanings, especially the implicit ones. It was as if he was involved in exploring the ”dark side of the moon,” as Mary Douglas defined his effort in the search for meanings that are implicitly conveyed (Douglas 1975: 173). Paradoxically, Bernstein attempted to explain the “implicit” through words, treating speech as something emanating from and being shaped by social relations. He treated speech in a way to lessen the independence of language, but, at the same time, he revealed the importance of semantics in shaping social bonds and consciousness. In those years, he appeared eccentric, as linguistically his approach was oriented to searching for truth by disclosing the power of speech upon reality, stressing at the same time the demystification of language. Similarly, in sociology, he was to some extent considered suspicious as he “cut across all the tidy categories” (174). Bernstein, in his creativity, was in some ways “a pilgrim, seeking out these holy secret places in human discourse, and honouring them,” as Mary Douglas commented. She also described him as “...a breaker of sacred images; this is when he reveals that what is hidden and implicit is not necessarily nice” (173-74). Bernstein was certainly a man of paradoxes, capable of creating and dismantling social reality enfolded in and disguised by many thick veils. Paradoxically, his attitude of “attacking sacred boundaries” (176) was rarely considered in the light of his Jewish background. This should be considered an important element—albeit concealed and forgotten—as it most likely allowed him to hold a particular position in society: that of remaining a critical outsider,

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being able to conceive deeper insights into reality due to the fact that he only partially belonged to it. In this respect, one should try to understand why a side of himself which was not “in tune” with the external environment. Of course, his life and work must be firstly perceived as part of the milieu in which he lived and worked as a Jew in Great Britain and, in particular, in London which, at the time, was a ferment of innovative movements, socially, politically, and academically. For a better understanding of Bernstein’s work, we feel that it is important to provide a short description of those years as, undoubtedly, his surroundings played a significant role in inspiring his ideas that were then formalized into his theoretical insights. As we will show, in some ways Bernstein’s personal history was the catalyst to explore and reflect on some of the issues that had likely troubled him throughout his life. “He came from the battlefield of a working class education himself ” (Inglis 2000: 77). However, this factor did not impair him. On the contrary, “he turned his own biography into an intellectual project,” as Paul Atkinson pointed out. “In doing so he understood and demonstrated that the biographical transcends the purely personal, and that narrative is more than mere story-telling” (Atkinson 2001: 27). Every person has, in some way, his own story to tell, which often goes well beyond their biography. Bernstein’s story starts from his Jewish tradition, then moves on out into society as a whole, into the domain of academic and sociological studies. However, even if Bernstein entered different social scenarios dealing with many different issues, there was always one main theme present in his work—the more oppressed strata of society and, consequently, the effort to provide them with the means to survive and change in modern progressive societies (Hasan 2005: 22). Most probably, the relevance of his interests could be found in other aspects of his own life. Because of this, in this study we will attempt to maintain the link between his biography and the intellectual unity of his work. In fact, he often discussed the development of his concepts in the introductions to his books (1971; 1987b; 1990), explaining to the reader the inner processes in his writing and creative insights. In this brief exposition of Bernstein’s life, the reader will note that information about his Jewish upbringing is quite scarce, as Bernstein never spoke about

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his childhood and youth. In order to make up for this lack of knowledge in describing his milieu, we have provided some historical sources about the life of Jewish immigrants in the East End of London. This was the environment which shaped Bernstein’s early experiences. In our description, we will also try to contextualize Bernstein’s work by placing his ideas within the socio-political background at the time in which he established the milestones of his theory. At the same time, we will outline the biography of his ideas, described as an ongoing process, an intellectual journey, through which Bernstein explained his inner visions, making them public and accessible to others. This will be a diachronic exposition, respecting the milestones of his vast creative works. The focus will be on key concepts originating from Bernstein’s early writings as they provided the original matrix, which was then further expanded upon in Bernstein’s later works. In particular, we will focus on the notion of sociolinguistic code, the family, classification and framing, as all these established a general affinity with Jewish traditions. A more detailed analytical comparison will be provided in the section where Bernstein himself wrote about Judaism. In the exposition of Bernstein’s vast work, the area concerning educational transmission and its connection with communication codes—starting with the third volume Class Codes and Control (1975), and continuing on to later years—was omitted. This was deliberate as, in fact, Bernstein’s later production, in our opinion, could be included under the more general analytical concepts produced in the early years of his intellectual production.

6.2 BIOGRAPHY Basil Bernard Bernstein (1924-2000) was born on November 1, 1924. He came from a Jewish family that had migrated to England from elsewhere in Europe, coming from different Jewish cultural traditions. His father, Bertram Bernstein, was Askenazi1 originating from Russia, and his mother, Julia nee’ Park, was

1

Askenazi and Sephardi are two distinct subcultures of Jewish people living in Diaspora. originating respectively from Northern and Eastern Europe (Germany, France, and Russia) and Spain, North Africa, and the Middle East. As it were, there are many differentiations also among these two broad categories of Jews.

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Sephardi, of Spanish origins but born in London (recorded in the Mile End Old Town registry). Julia’s father, Judah Park, was born in Spitalfields, England, while her paternal grandfather, Simon Leendert Park, had been born in Amsterdam and had died in Bethnal Green in about 1900. Basil’s parents married in November 1922 and lived in the East End of London, a working class district, although they themselves enjoyed a middle class standard of living, as his father was a furrier. Basil’s mother died in 1931 at the age of 35, when Basil was only seven. At the time, they were living at 106 Lealand Road, South Tottenham, a Jewish district in the North of London. His father soon remarried another woman, Hettie S., who came from an English lower-class Jewish background. They had a child who unfortunately suffered from diabetes and died in his youth. Basil lived with his father, stepmother, and stepbrother until he left to serve in the Second World War in 1942, volunteering, though under age, for the Royal Air Force (RAF). When referring to his childhood and adolescence, Bernstein recalled them as years full of misery, pain, and distress. In fact, his family relations were marked by a too well-known stereotyped pattern—his stepmother did not love him, preferring his stepbrother, leaving no pleasant memories for Basil of that period of his life.2 While they were living in London, Basil attended Christ’s College in Finchley where he was placed in the lowest academic stream. This experience of schooling most probably was an unhappy one, as he left school at the age of 14, when his family moved to Worthing. We do not have enough information on the underlying reason for Bernstein’s unhappy scholastic experience, attributed either to the school or to the fact that he was Jewish. Certainly, from an early age, “…he would have been on a daily basis conscious of things that became central to his future concerns: hierarchy and ritual and the interplay between different forms of religious belief, cultures and speech,” Rob Moore pointed out in his book on Bernstein, The Thinker and the Field (2013: 15). Within the family circle he was not encouraged to express any of his talents. However, from adolescence on, he became an avid reader and a music lover, 2

Personal communication with Marion Bernstein, his wife.

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two things which had often been forbidden to him in his childhood, and which remained important interests in his later years and throughout his life. In Worthing, he frequented a local music club, situated above a secondhand bookshop, where he could listen to classical records. There, he met Michael Worsley, a young man of his own age with whom he struck up a close friendship that continued throughout his life. He had already left school at the time they met, and Basil was working in London in his father’s business. Out of his own wages Basil used to buy gramophone records, keeping them at Michael’s house since he was not allowed to play classical music in his own home. They were neighbours, and Basil spent most of his spare time in Michael’s home, where he lived with his mother and brother. They were Roman Catholics, but despite this religious difference Michael’s mother treated Basil virtually as another son. However, he always remained very conscious of his Jewish origins. Michael recalled that one day, after listening to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Basil declared: “It’s greater than religion!”3 This expression testifies that from adolescence, Bernstein considered religion an important experience. So grateful was he for the warmth and affection bestowed on him by Michael’s mother that on her birthday in 1942 he gave her a present, the “Oxford Book of English Verse,” in which he inscribed the following dedication: “To Mrs. Worsely, with Best Wishes on her Birthday. Also in gratitude for the unstinted hospitality, generosity and, above all, good friendship that I have enjoyed in her home.” This shows his appreciation of true affection, something he never took for granted in his later life, and exemplifies his sensitivity and never-ending search for genuine relationships. There were no synagogues in West Worthing, but Bernstein’s family spent the most important Jewish festivities with Basil’s uncle, his father’s brother, where he was exposed to and immersed in the rituals and principles of the Jewish tradition. The Bernsteins observed the Jewish dietary laws, at least within their own family, and Basil read Hebrew, even though he never celebrated his Bar Mitzvah.4 3 4

This episode was recalled by Michael Worsley in a personal communication. Bar mitzvah is the ceremonial recognition of the boy at thirteen, the age when he becomes a responsible member of the Jewish community. Basil Bernstein did not have this ceremony most probably because of the economical situation of his family at the time (personal communication with Marion Bernstein).

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Basil had a very quick mind and was always very keen to read and discuss political and sociological questions. Even though he did not identify with the working classes, his family being middle class, he was very concerned with their welfare. He read widely, well beyond his formal school education, and could even argue authoritatively on philosophy. When he turned eighteen, Bernstein joined the RAF and served underage in the Second World War as a Leading Aircraftman. On his first day of leave, he stayed at Michael’s home, which showed that he considered them his true family. He was demobilized a year after the war ended in 1946 and, after returning from West Africa, he joined the staff of the Bernard Baron Settlement in Stepney, an institute for boys, where he started as a resident worker teaching Jewish children from disadvantaged backgrounds. In 1947, Bernstein was accepted by the London School of Economics to do a Diploma in Social Sciences, which shortly afterwards he converted to a Bachelor of Science. In those years he discovered the work of Durkheim, which became the main source of influence in his theoretical development. In 1954, Bernstein decided to become a teacher, obtained a post-graduate diploma from Westminster College of Education, and in the same year began teaching at the City Day College, where he remained until 1960. In 1963 he was appointed senior lecturer in the sociology of education for the Institute of Education, at the University of London, and a research director of the Sociological Research Unit (SRU) financed by the Local Educational

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Authority, to carry out research focusing on his work. He remained there until his retirement. During his youth, Bernstein had never expressed any conscious wish to create and raise a Jewish family. Nevertheless, some years later, he married Marion Black, also of the Jewish faith, and had two sons, Saul and Francis. His two sons both celebrated their Bar Mitzvah. The family lived in London and kept the traditional Sabbath, although they stopped when Basil’s mother in law, who was living with them, passed away in april 1980. It is interesting to note that Bernstein never wanted to visit Israel, as he strongly disapproved of the way the Israelis were treating the Palestinians. He was appointed the Karl Mannheim professor of the sociology of education at London University. He retired as an emeritus professor in 1993. He died of cancer on 24 September 2000, and his funeral was held in the annexes of the North London Synagogue.

6.3  THE SOCIAL MILIEU When Bernstein was born, his parents were living in the East End, a district of London where there was a well-established Jewish community, many immigrants having set up their trades here. Basil’s father worked in his mother’s factory as a furrier as this, like tailoring, was a typical job for Jewish immigrants. We do not have enough information about how long they actually stayed in this area of London, but soon after the death of Basil’s mother they moved to Worthing, Sussex. In analyzing Bernstein’s socio-cultural and historical milieu, we would like to begin this section by referring to his own words from his Introduction to Volume I of Class, Codes and Control (1971/1973), where he describes the progression of his work and clarifies the strengths and weaknesses of his theoretical approach. He says: I was responsible, by omission, for failing to draw attention to the material poverty under which communities were forced to live [in Britain], and for failing to draw attention to the conditions in schools which were responsible for educational failure. (37)

As our exploration may be an attempt to fill in the gaps and omissions in Bernstein’s work, we will try to provide further important elements that are necessary to better understand the man and his oeuvre.

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The East End was an area of London where Jews and other local people lived in very poor economic conditions. Extensive records of this intensely squalid socio-economic situation can be found, among others, in the records of Beatrice Potter in Charles Booth’s book, Life and Labour of the People of London (1886). Immigrant Jews had been living in the East End even before the 1880s, the date of the arrival of the first Russian Jews fleeing the pogroms. A Jewish population had settled there long before the arrival of their Russian co-religionists. The early Jewish communities consisted of well-to-do merchants who had settled in the city and were welcomed by the local population, unlike the poorer new arrivals who were forbidden to trade and live there. The latter moved nearby to Whitechapel near Middlesex Street, known as Petticoat Lane, only a few yards away from the docks. In this area, the newly arrived from Russia and Poland were able to share their customs and beliefs with members of their own community, speaking the same language, which was often Yiddish or Russian. Commonly unstable and insecure living conditions actually helped Jewish immigrants improve their economic situation. This factor pushed them to do all that was necessary to overcome their poverty-stricken situation. In this respect, the Jewish immigrants, like immigrants of different nationalities, behaved quite differently to English workers. In fact, this was so noticeable that a businessman, Jacob Fine, who ran a garment business for forty years observed: The English worker went along very slowly: he had to have his protein, his pint of beer and his fish and chips. The Jewish worker was an immigrant. He had to be ambitious to survive and he had to fight for himself. The top workers, the ones who had been in the workshop the longest and were the most skilled, engaged the under-workers. The ambition of the under-workers was to become a top worker; that of a top worker to become a master; and that of a master to become a manufacturer. (Quoted in Aris 1970: 74)

This tendency to combine individualism and collectivism through a working environment organized in terms of a hierarchy based on expertise and division of labor also differentiated the Jewish immigrant tailor from the English one. The flexibility of the Jewish immigrants to adapt to social change was a factor that helped them improve their social conditions and, for some of them, to become successful business people and set up their own factories.

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Another important feature of the East End Jewish community was its impressive network of voluntary services, including Jewish youth clubs, homes for the elderly, meals-on-wheels, and other charity work for the poor. These organizations provided mutual support, with the middle class responding to the needs of the lower income groups. This support is still present among many Jewish communities today, reminiscent of the mutual solidarity found in the old ghetto life. Even though the social needs now are not as dire as in the past, many Jewish charity institutions can still be found in the East End, as in other areas of London, while voluntary charity associations gravitate around the Welfare Board and the synagogues. This brief historical description of the East End Jewish community in London, and aspects of its organization vis-à-vis British society as a whole, may provide an important insight into Basil Bernstein’s personal life. The closeness and support among the members of the East End community contrasted with the general impression that British society held regarding the Jews. The British liberal democratic driving forces had allowed the new Jewish generation to climb the social and economic ladder, but the British, in general, still considered them profoundly alien to their society. Regarding the above two concepts, which have been a feature of Bernstein’s analysis of society, Durkheim’s notions of organic and mechanic solidarity may be seen in the light of Bernstein’s experience from his early years as a Jew living in his community and then, later, in the wider British society. These two aspects contrast, and perhaps it is not so farfetched to believe that this is a characteristic experience of Jewish people living in Diaspora. It could even be seen as the efforts of a lifetime in dealing with an attempt to reconcile their Jewish and secular worlds. Another important aspect of British society that deeply influenced Bernstein was social class. This is a complex term, the definition of which plays no part in this discussion. However we could refer to it, more or less, as distinct social groupings which at any given historical period constituted British society. In particular, it is important to specify that different social classes can be distinguished by the inequalities existing in such areas as power, authority, wealth, working and life styles, life expectancy, education, religion, culture, and language as markers of class code.

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The basic hierarchical structure was, very synthetically, made up of the “upper classes,” whose consciousness was mainly shaped by their public school and university backgrounds, the “middle classes,” and the “working classes.” The latter two remained relatively stable despite the periodic upheavals often invoked by the Marxist view of the inevitability of class conflict, at least until the outbreak of World War I. In Great Britain, a modified class structure clearly remains in existence today. Nowadays, historians tend to consider Marx’s class classification as ideal types and historical abstractions, overly simplified to meet the conditions of modern Britain, a complexity much more complicated than Marx could have imagined. As a matter of fact, a Briton’s place in the class hierarchy is still very much determined by considerations such as ancestry, accent, education, dress code, and lifestyle, seen as signs that determine how one regards oneself and how one is regarded by others (Cannadine 2000: 22). Unquestionably, no matter how it is described, British society is still a class society, as class still remains one of the basic British concerns (Cannadine 2000). Since the end of the war, the British social class hierarchy has also affected the system of education. By 1914, England, Wales, and Scotland had a sort of educational system, in the sense that all children of every social class were supposed to have had an encounter with some type of formal schooling. The system was organized into elementary, secondary, and higher education, each being closely associated with one’s social class (Sutherland 1990: 158). In the years between 1914 and 1950, there was an attempt to extend access to secondary and higher education to all. However, this was still strongly governed by social class, and chances of access to selective secondary schools were the domain of a social and intellectual elite. Gillian Sutherland, in her historical review of British education from the last century onwards, declares: At the end of the 1930s in England and Wales, the boy with a professional or managerial father was four times as likely to go to grammar school as the boy whose father was a skilled manual worker, and five times as likely to do so as the boy whose father was an unskilled manual worker. The girl whose father was in professional or managerial occupation was seven times more likely to go to grammar school than the girl whose father was an unskilled manual worker. (162-63)

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The school reform, initiated in Great Britain by the Education Act of 1944, aimed to open up new educational possibilities for all. The creation of grammar schools with an academic curriculum, comprehensive schools with a professional/technical orientation, and secondary modern schools for the rest of the school population, however, did not promote innovation in the system, but rather reinforced the class structure, hindering any social egalitarianism. In fact, the introduction of IQ testing by the educational psychologist Cyril Burt (1883-1971), establishing the selection of the eleven plus5 for pupils wishing to be admitted to the grammar schools, was based on an implicit legitimization of the privileges of the middle classes, while the upper classes enrolled their children into private schools, outside of the state educational system. Results were not based on a student’s academic performance, but instead on being able to cope with the testing procedures. The system was heavily weighted in favor of the upper class students who were better equipped to succeed in the tests, and consequently performed better than their lower class peers. This situation had serious repercussions on school attendance, as Sutherland recorded below: Even if working-class children did surmount all these hurdles and get to selective secondary schools, they figured in disproportionately large numbers among the “early leavers,” dropping out after, or even before the School Certificate examination at sixteen. The pressures which operated to discourage some working class parents from even contemplating a grammar school place for their child operated with full force on those families who gave it a try. And these were the material pressures. There were also cultural pressures. As Richard Hoggart put it, the working class scholarship boy is between two worlds of school and home; and they meet at a few points. (Hoggart 1957; quoted in Sutherland 1990: 163)

Undoubtedly, the primary schools of the 1950s and 1960s were quite different from those of the previous century, but nevertheless the class origin of secondary schooling, with its curriculum content and grammar school teaching styles, was easy to identify. 5 In England, the “eleven plus” is an examination administered to students in their last year of primary education governing admission to various types of secondary schools. The name derives from the age group for secondary entry: eleven to twelve years.

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This brief account of schooling in Britain may serve as an introduction to understanding Bernstein’s passionate life-long battle of attempting to prove that this system was socially unjust and to bring about some change. Finally, in our short review of the British educational system, we cannot avoid mentioning the historical role that religion played in Britain in schooling and, indirectly, in the social classes. Britain, as well as being one of the leading industrialized nations in Europe, until the 1950s was a very a religious country. The churches (Church of England, Church of Scotland, and other minority churches) played an important role in both public and private spheres. Church of England religious attendance varied depending on social class and geographical circumstances. The upper classes, who were the landlords living in the country, attended the church services and also ensured that their tenants did the same. Among the aristocracy there was the conviction that the Anglican Church deserved their support as it was part of a social order in which they themselves enjoyed great privileges which, of course, they wanted to keep (Obelkevich 1990). In the big towns, particularly in London and the southeast, the middle classes strongly supported the church, Victorian morality exercising the greatest influence over this social group. In fact : It was in these classes that religion was most strongly sustained by social pressure: regular church attendance and keeping of the Sabbath [concerning Jewish middle class] were felt to be essential for a family’s respectability. (338)

However, these external reasons were far from being the only reasons, as a deep and genuine religious commitment existed in this and the other classes of Victorian society. As for the urban working class, they rarely attended church, as they considered churches alien, middle-class institutions where people like themselves, lacking good clothes and unable to afford pew rents, felt out of place. Church–goers they tended to regard as snobs and hypocrites; any working class person going to church was liable to be condemned for putting on airs, setting himself above his neighbours. Social pressure did as much to deter church-going in the working class as it did to encourage it in the middle and upper classes. (339)

As far as the Jewish religion was concerned, it was one of the smallest religious minorities, and had to face prejudice and legal restrictions, turning into

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tolerance in more recent times. At the end of the nineteenth century Jewish immigration to England brought about some changes in the Jewish community. Below we find a clear record of these changes: By the 1830s there had emerged an Anglo-Jewish “gentry,” an elite of the city and landed families who provided leadership for a community otherwise mainly consisting of small traders and pedlars. Political emancipation went through its final stages with the election of the first Jew, Lionel Rothschild, to the House of Commons in 1847—though he was not allowed to take his seat until 1858—and the opening up of the universities in 1871. There was also a considerable degree of acculturation. The handsome synagogues and decorous services favored by the Anglo-Jewry gentry followed obvious Anglican models. But after 1880 the arrival in Britain of over 120,000 refugees from antisemitic persecutions in Russia brought not only a sharp increase in the Jewish population (rising to 3,000,000 in 1914), but also significant change to its religious life. Immigrant workers felt ill at ease in the existing synagogues, where the atmosphere seemed cold, formal and middle class; in their shuls, backroom meeting places for men only, they worshipped in an informal, emotional style which had certainly parallels with that of the early Methodists and other working-class sects. And as with Catholic (and Protestant) workers, there were problems with leakage and loss of faith. Later, in the twentieth century, when the immigrants were more formally settled, the shuls declined, and the main focus of religious observance for most Jews shifted to the home, where it was now the woman who had the most important role, keeping a kosher kitchen and preparing for the Sabbath and for the holidays. Jews came to practice their religion with the same degree of commitment, or lack of, as gentiles in the same social class. Judaism had formerly encompassed an entire way of life: it now tended to be confined to a separate compartment in a way of life which was increasingly British and secular. (336-37)

In this situation, the Jewish communal institutions continued to be run on their traditional lines, represented by the Board of Deputies, the Anglo-Jewish Association for foreign affairs, local Boards of Guardians for welfare matters, and the Orthodox Chief Rabbinate and in London the United Synagogues for religious matters (Gartner 2001: 320). Before concluding our brief historical overview, it is worth mentioning that the churches exercised their power, and sometimes their conflicts, in the arenas of politics and education. The Anglicans were traditionally conservatives, preserving their established status and their associated privileges. They had had to cope with the battle of turning a confessional state into a secular one.

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Dissenters (non-conformists and Methodists) were allied to the whigs and liberals, struggling to remove their disadvantages by trying to remove the Anglican privilege system, such as, for instance, that of giving the Church of England a privileged place in state schools. Because of rivalry between the churches, England achieved a system of public education rather late, towards the beginning of the nineteenth century and education was not compulsory until the twentieth century. By this time religious issues had been displaced by class issues—the “social gospel” attracted little interest and support grew for the notion that the churches should stay out of politics altogether. (Obelkevich 1990: 343)

Over and above all the churches, a Victorian religious culture cut across all faiths with its threat of eternal punishment, being considered an essential aspect of the Christian faith and its moralistic style. This account has been gradually modified due to major world trends such as the secularization of much of Europe. More recently, the rise of the “new age” or “spiritual revolution” implied the move away from structures, membership, and codification of doctrine. Naturally, these new attitudes affected changes in religious behavior. However, middle class religious attitudes have held strongly to certain ideas, such as that of the unity of the family, not only in church but also at home. In this scenario, Jewish politics and religion underwent several changes. After having voted liberal for a long period, many Jews, especially in the more proletarian districts, shifted to the left, to the Labour Party, or even more radically to the Communist Party. After the war, the Anglo-Jewish tradition of official communal orthodoxy was challenged by the increasing popularity of liberal and reformed Jewish movements. The increasing rate of intermarriage with non-Jews reinforced the Jewish communities’ attention on education. While antisemitism existed beneath the surface, Jews, nevertheless, were not forbidden from taking part in public spheres as politicians, business people, lawyers, writers, scientists, and artists (Gardner 2001: 410)6. From this brief historical account, it appears that religion in Britain has set the rules for the social order, connecting class to education to the domination and the privileges of certain strata of the population. Thus, certain types of 6

This process had occurred already in the second half of the nineteenth century.

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middle class and working class behavior, as depicted by Bernstein, found their origins in the different positioning of individuals in relation to the Church of England, which contributed, to a great extent, to creating and maintaining the moral order of the dominant values of society. To be a Jew in this scenario might have implied being excluded from the underlying meanings which counted in British society, and this feeling would have been even stronger if, in addition to religion, social class was added to the picture. Bernstein originally came from a middle-class background, and in adulthood he always considered himself to belong to this strata of society. However, his great interest in the working class population, typified as a means of exclusion which denied them access to education which could lead to more powerful social positions, reveals an unconscious identification with the underprivileged. Therefore, is it not farfetched to assume that Bernstein’s great concern for the lower classes in society may have originated from his own Jewish background, which made him more sensitive to the fate of the less privileged. At the same time, this feeling probably stemmed from his own background, from the difficulties his family experienced integrating fully into the more powerful strata of British society.

6.4  WORK AND RESEARCH The review of Basil Bernstein’s work in the light of Judaism will be described as an intellectual journey, with themes retracing the milestones of his experiences throughout his life. He began observing children’s speech in groups, relating it to their families, linking it to social learning in school and to the official educational systems within society. Perhaps it is not so surprising that the story of the Jewish people can also be traced through similar milestones—beginning with the vis-à-vis verbal encounter between Abraham and God, then extended to Abraham’s family, and eventually to all the people of Israel. A complete account regarding the milestones of Bernstein’s work has already been done elsewhere (Sadovnick 2001; Hasan 2005; Moore 2013), as well as by Bernstein himself (1987b; 1990; 1996). Thus, our brief description will be instrumental in illustrating the influence of Judaism on Bernstein’s work, in full awareness that many other traditions may be represented as well. For all these reasons, the focus will primarily be on these topics, even if in the course

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of our discussion the main milestones of Bernstein’s work will be presented in order to provide an historical sequencing of his own theoretical development. Bernstein’s work can be difficult to analyze as a whole as, over a period of forty years, his theory of cultural reproduction diverged in many different directions. However, his sociological approach successfully merged with the fields of linguistics, psychology, and anthropology, in his attempt to explore the question of how consciousness develops as a result of complex relationships in society. Bernstein’s intellectual journey, which often led off in many different directions, with changes in definitions and, sometimes, contradictions typical of any growth process, always retained a few basic elements that were consistent throughout his theory—social differences as critical aspects of human conditions in modern societies, responsible for social production and reproduction in schools and society. Consequently, Bernstein focused on the forms that shape different types of consciousness, such as speech and knowledge production, which differ between groups of the same society. For him, it was education that created the conditions for democracy, a constant theme underlying his theory and research. Bernstein considered education the ultimate and necessary condition for a more equal distribution of knowledge and resources, as “education [even with social, economic, and cultural biases] can play a crucial role in creating tomorrow’s optimism in the context of today’s pessimism” (Bernstein 1996: 5). To him, education has a ”cosmological scheme,” since curriculum fits together bits of knowledge just like a cosmology connects bits of experience filled with specific meanings (Douglas 1973). Bernstein’s interest focused on different topics throughout the years. He began with language, then explored the family’s relational structure, went on to the educational system, and eventually touched briefly on the historical aspects of the religious curriculum in education. While the definitions of all of these concepts changed, acquiring a higher level of abstraction, the generative matrix explaining these diversified concepts remained his sociolinguistic codes, representing the semiotic means that set the conditions for empirical studies on how the formation of consciousness is shaped and established. In his work, many aspects of the biblical way of thinking appear, although Bernstein himself never explicitly acknowledged any intellectual link with the

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Jewish tradition. This does not mean that he was not influenced by the latter. In Judaism, internalization of conceptual structures is transmitted through gestures, rituals, and objects that are used, performed, and consciously thought in feasts, everyday actions in the home, and communal service in the synagogue. This implies that the Jewish mode of cultural transmission addresses conscious and unconscious spheres of existence. In order to draw attention to the significance of Judaism in Bernstein’s theoretical orientation, we will consider the aspects which, in our opinion, inspired him, either consciously or unconsciously. However, at this stage of our study we consider these aspects to be initial suggestions that will require further, more substantial evidence in order to test our hypothesis.

6.5  EARLY YEARS: SPEECH CODES AS “SANCTUARIES OF CONSCIOUSNESS” In pursuing our comparison of Bernstein’s work with Judaism, we would like to identify a few fundamental features in his sociolinguistic theory in order to establish a number of coordinates that could be compared and linked to meanings and patterns typical of the Jewish Bible. The establishment of these connections will provide the grounds for our comparison between Bernstein’s oeuvre and the crucial meaning of biblical narratives. Bernstein’s work is set in multiple layers of analysis spread across various fields of theoretical knowledge (language, society, family codes, etc.). These internal connections are somehow mapped by Bernstein as forms of cosmologies ruled by different principles of separation between legitimate and illegitimate social spheres, distinguished in two orders of knowledge: the esoteric and the mundane. The re-interpretation of Durkheimian concepts of sacred and profanes for Bernstein have their foundation in the social dimension. In the earlier part of his theoretical endeavor, he based his findings on stories of everyday life, narrated in families and schools, and then in society in general. In all these domains, concepts are not only descriptive but always explanatory, as Bernstein deals with cultural models: I shall be concentrating very much on being able to provide and create models, which can generate specific descriptions. It is my belief that without

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these specific descriptions there is no way in which we can understand the way in which these knowledge systems become part of consciousness. (Bernstein 1996: 17)

Like any cosmological order, these models are organized as interlocking systems (society, family, linguistic codes), with consistent patterns of structures and symbols revealing the underlying links among the different levels of his sociological analysis. For Bernstein, social structure was the mediator of meaning, roles, codes, ethics. and forms of knowledge, and, finally, society and self-identity. These are represented by the relationships between social class, families, and education; institutional organizations, power, and control; and discourse, identity, and consciousness. The originality of Bernstein’s intellectual contribution, characterized by his unfashionable position and his personal and independent style, can be found precisely at the heart of his approach, ever present in all issues he dealt with, whether they were society, the family, language, meaning, pedagogic discourse, or consciousness. In each of these themes, Bernstein attempted to throw light on a multiplicity of levels which could be conceived as specific aspects of a general perspective, leading to a systematic theory of sociology or anthropology. In this respect, his religious terminology in parts of his early work, such as rituals, sacred and profane, and cosmology, referring to education of modern societies, suggests that Berstein’s intellectual history cannot be divorced from his early life experience and connection to Judaism. As a matter of fact, Judaism attempts to convey models of behavior in all spheres of life, which, like Bernstein’s theory, are expressed within multiple levels of experience, bodily as well as mentally. In such an endeavor, the ultimate goal is the achievement of consciousness based on ethical principles, predominantly conveyed through ritual obligations and legal commandments expressed by God’s words to the Israelites. Therefore, Judaism’s mode of transmission is based on specific codes, which permits a parallelism with Bernstein’s code theory. Bernstein‘s approach to sociolinguistic codes, originating from kinship and religious systems (1996: 147), and collected in the first volume of Class Codes and Control (1971), was based on his observations of disadvantaged Jewish children at a boys’ club in Stepney in the Bernhard Baron Settlement in London. This direct personal experience led him, eventually, to describe two

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different modes of speaking, which he called elaborated and restricted codes— that is, modes of communication belonging, respectively, to working-class and middle-class children. This teaching experience, just as the one that followed immediately after, provided him with great insights into the structure of the process of cultural transmission. He realized, for the first time, that there was a marked discontinuity between the values of the teaching staff and the club members, that belonged to the Reform Judaism, while the Settlement officially belonged to Orthodox Judaism. In referring to those years, Bernstein said: During my stay at the Settlement, I took part in the running of the boys’ clubs spanning the ages from nine to eighteen years, for which the Bernhard Baron was rightly famed. I was also introduced to family casework. This experience in more ways than one had a deep influence upon my life. It focused and made explicit an interest I always seemed to have had in the structure and process of cultural transmission. In the Settlement, the discontinuity and sometimes conflict between the values held by the senior members of staff and those held by club members often became transparent. The discontinuity was not simply related to secular values. The Settlement was religious in spirit and purpose and drew its strength from Reform Judaism; whereas the traditional Judaism of the community the Settlement served was Orthodox. A significant percentage of the parents and the children were members of the Reform Synagogue of the Settlement. Thus, the Settlement introduced me to the inter-relationships between social class and religious belief within the context of an apparently distinct and homogeneous cultural group. I was both fascinated and disturbed by the process of transmission of the Settlement’s values and standards of conduct (1971/73: 19, original emphasis)

It was during those years that he perceived the marked contradiction which can arise when cultural values do not match social values, generating inner contradictions and conflicts in the individual in reference to his group. The contrast between Orthodox and the Reformed Jews, both belonging to the same culture, probably made Bernstein more aware of the fact that within the same society there might be dissonant ideologies within and between classes. The Jewish Reformed movement, originated in Germany and introduced in England in the nineteenth century, was mainly appealing to middle-class Jews. The Reformed followers were often opposed by the Orthodox ones belonging to

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the older communities in London, including the lower classes in the East End. The controversy was generally based on the claim that the Reformed Jews were “less Jewish” than the Orthodox, thus encouraging secularization. From the above, we can clearly recognize that from the beginnings of his professional carrier, Bernstein was deeply interested in culture, even if his main concern in the following years always lay in “the transmission of culture” in society (Douglas 2001). In fact, Bernstein’s early intuitions were located more within the British school of social anthropology than within sociology (Moore 2013: 23). Hence his great affinity with Mary Douglas, with whom he shared a common tradition based on Durkheim, who began his research by exploring religious thought. Undoubtedly, Bernstein experienced “his own culture” and “his own internal contradictions,” as no other explanation can be found to justify the important mark that this experience left on him. In particular, Bernstein perceived the marginalization of minority groups, such as Jewish adolescent boys, in British society and in the city of London, with its districts strongly delineated by social class. In this way, Bernstein’s theoretical work was directly inspired by his teaching experiences, which were initially concerned with the under-privileged members of his own society. Later, though, Bernstein never separated the empirical and theoretical aspects of his theory: He thought the young indifferent suburbs of London, each of which had one thing in common: by any standard, they would have been seen as less affluent, poor, underprivileged, disadvantaged, working-class, lacking in material capital—call it by the name your ideology finds acceptable. (Hasan 2005: 23)

As a result: A central element of this investigation, ever present in Bernstein’s consciousness, was the need to understand and to reveal the mechanism whereby patterns of oppression and often unwitting collusion in oppression maintain themselves in modern progressive societies. This preoccupation was deepened by his concern with the potential for social change and the potential’s many forms of realisation into actual fact. (22)

The source of Bernstein’s concern for the under-privileged members of society can be linked to his sociological perspective, which made him more

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sensitive to the predicament of the working class. However, we can find the underlying matrix for his concern in his Jewish culture, as Judaism consistently places emphasis on improving the lot of the poor and the weakest in the community (Exodus 22:21-22; Leviticus 19:14). Even if this matrix was never acknowledged by Bernstein himself, it can be clearly recognized in his constant and deep concern for the dominated and under-privileged, probably identifying himself with them, regarding both class and historical tradition. While at City Day College, where he remained until 1960, he taught post office messenger boys, some of them from the working class areas of the London Docks. He was struck by the way these students expressed themselves, leading to his first insights into what he would later call a restricted code. In particular, Bernstein pointed out that the restricted code and its users, the working class children, were not adept in achieving the conventionally valued educational goals required by the schooling system. The root of this failure was not to be found in the children’s IQs nor in their linguistic deprivation, but rather in the unequal distribution of knowledge within a society. Different orientation to meaning for the working class children was due to a different sense regarding the relevance to their universe, a crucial element in creating different forms of consciousness. In 1958, he wrote his first paper, “Some Sociological Determinants of Perception” (reprinted in volume one of Class Codes and Control). The conceptual approach of the paper was somehow “in the borderland between sociology and psychology” (1971/1973: 20), a situation that Bernstein acknowledged regarding his early theorizing, in which he had found it difficult to focus on the nature of his sociological explorations. In 1959 he published the paper “A Public Language: Some Sociological Implications of a Linguistic Form”; this shift to the sociological dimension was in some way justified by the fact that Bernstein, like Vygotsky and Luria, believed in the socio-genesis of consciousness arising from society and its collective practices, and not from the development of individual behavior. This concept is very much in line with the basic principles of Judaism, where the socio-collective and historical elements are first and foremost compared to an individual’s needs. In fact, community life is an essential condition for practicing Judaism and transmitting its message. This is to be found, in addition to

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all the commandments of social solidarity expressed in the Bible, in the preaching of the rituals in the synagogue. Judaism cannot be practiced individually nor can it be conceived of without the community. The paper “Ritual in Education” (1966, reprint in 1973), commissioned by Julien Huxley for a conference on rituals, carries overtones of religious thinking. Bernstein saw a connection between forms of ritual and the restricted code, as well as with personal and positional forms of social control. Regarding this article, Bernstein states: I regard the ritual paper as setting out conceptually what became almost an obsession to try to understand the origins and consequences of different modalities of control. It was the sharp focusing upon principles of control which was probably responsible for the abstracted analysis of schools. (Bernstein 1975: 5)

Thus, we can perceive an inner trajectory in Bernstein’s writing, starting from the speech of groups of children, the origins of which can be located in the family, moving on to a larger domain, such as educational institutions in society in general. In the 1960s, English society underwent some profound cultural changes. However, these were not entirely abrupt, as the end of World War II had provided many opportunities for the revival of cultural and artistic elements in the country, being neither monolithic nor static. The 1960s cultural revolution, set in motion in the 1950s, resulted in an assault on the conventional understanding of many aspects of life, and was especially driven by youth movements which were particularly evident in the big cities like London. In those years, the generation gap became wider due to the new behavioral trends which took on the outer look of the new culture, such as in dress styles and music, creating new attitudes in society. It was the era of the Beatles (working class) and the Rolling Stones (middle class), of new fashions such as blue jeans, long hair, and miniskirts; in London the leading shops for these new trends were guided by Biba and Mary Quant, whose models were drawn from the ranks of young people. The European students’ revolts of 1968 and the end of the Vietnam war unified young people all over Europe. They also adopted an external uniform expressed in a look or fashion and communicated through channels such as music, dress, hairstyles and manners, which highlighted the underlying

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inter-generational conflicts much more than social class conflicts (Clark 1996: 373). In films, working class dramas were in vogue (Saturday Night and Sunday Morning; Room at the Top), but they were largely seen by the middle classes. All the same their messages were mainly absorbed by working-class young people in the process of the reshaping of the British youth culture, oriented towards middle class standards. In England, the hippie movement and drugs reflected the affluence and ethos of middle class youth in the southeast of the country, rather than for their northern working-class counterparts (Black 2008: 171). Most likely, Bernstein believed that despite the overt changes of young people in those days, the shaping of a new consciousness was far more difficult to achieve, since it originated in class structure and its underlying mechanism of power and control. At the same time, in British Academies there was an increase in cultural studies, focusing on ideology and culture, with a strong Marxist interest. While Bernstein acknowledged the influence of Marx in his concept of social class, he remained an independent thinker, with no labels being attached to his creative work. Despite these socio-cultural changes, Bernstein’s main focus of theoretical interest in the late 1960s was still in social structure and class. In fact Bernstein’s fundamental interest, stemming from Durkheim, was the understanding of how humans become social beings and the relationship between symbolic orders, social relations and experience, relating the inner and the outer (Moore 2013: 33). In particular, he was involved in the social effects of class identified in language and its structural form and content, and he struggled to observe and describe speech under relatively controlled situations. So strong was his interest in this phenomenon, that one day he took a piece of writing from one of his students, broke it down into sentences, and rearranged them hierarchically on the page to make it look like a poem. In this manner, he started to explore the symbolic nature of space between lines, and the condensation of implicit meanings. Poetry is one of the first expressions of human communication. The Latinos equated it to the language of deep emotion as they saw it as being similar to an infant’s vocalization, and rhymes were often equated to singing. This is exactly what Bernstein did, playing with the sentences of working-class children. No doubt the emotional resonance of the restricted language must

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have been very strong if Bernstein felt the need to translate it using one of the most immediate communicative channels such as that of poetry. In the following he recounted his experience: One day I took a piece of a student’s continuous writing and broke it up into its constituent sentences and arranged the sentences hierarchically on the page, so that it looked as a poem. The piece took on a new and vital life. The gaps between the lines were full of meaning. I took a Bob Dylan ballad and produced a second version in which the lines were arranged continuously as in prose. I invited the students to read both versions. I then asked whether they felt there was any difference between the two versions. Yes, there was a difference...I became fascinated by condensation; by the implicit. (Bernstein 1971: 5-6)

This passage, taken from the introduction to his first book (Class, Codes and Control, vol. 1), presents the very first stage of his insights where he, somehow, re-constructed a very early experience of a child (perhaps originating from his own childhood). Certainly, Bernstein’s approach to the restricted code was not one of scientific detachment, as we can read in Mary Douglas’ writing: When he describes the restricted speech code which is the language of intimacy, a sense of loneliness and nostalgia descends on the audience. Each person listening wishes to have more of those silent friendships in which nothing needs to be said, because everything is understood. (Douglas 1975: 173)

In more sedate academic terms, Bernstein’s experiment was commented upon years later by Dell Hymes: I offer evidence that the intuition [of Bernstein] as to the presence of poetic form was correct. It appears that speakers of English, and of many other languages, have a tacit ability to shape what they say in terms of lines and groups of lines, in other words, in terms of poetic forms. (Hymes 1995: 186)

In this passage, Hymes wanted to draw attention to Sapir’s influence on Bernstein’s work. Sapir was a Jewish linguistic anthropologist to whom Bernstein acknowledged his intellectual debt during those years (1956– 1960). Sapir often referred to users of language who can produce complex relationships and linguistic functions without being aware of them.

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Even if the linguistic approach used by Bernstein was sharply redefined thanks to his contact with Goldman-Eisler, his work was concerned with how certain communication, educational, and cultural codes are related to a particular social structure. He explored this structure from a Durkheimian perspective, describing mechanical and organic solidarity, but also through an analysis of the division of labor, boundary maintenance, and social roles. If this was his own theoretical sociological position, it would be legitimate to ask: why was he engaged in a linguistic analysis of the two codes, being aware that language was not his final goal or even his specific field of interest? (Bernstein 1996: 147). Only Bernstein could provide this answer. However, we assume that his linguistic exploration and his interest in language may have been dictated by his own inner attitude towards the exploration of words and meanings inherited from his Jewish tradition. Jewish scholars, as well as rabbis, have been constantly engaged in interpreting the deep meanings of the Torah’s messages. In Judaism, throughout the centuries, every word of the Text (the Bible is a text par excellence) has always been interpreted by its surface and underlying structure in order to discover the true meaning of God’s words expressed in the Torah. Different schools have interpreted the exegesis tradition in their own way—the rationale and argumentative expressed in the Talmud, and the imaginative and metaphorical expressed in the Midrash.7 While the Talmud was formulated by rabbis and scholars in order to elaborate and expand on the meanings of the Torah, the Midrash approach was not meant to bring out the meaning of the text in question. Instead, it has the status of poetical conceits, appealing to many people and not scholars alone, just as poets use their poetical expression. Maimonides defined it as a form of poetry. In particular, in the Kabbalistic tradition, knowledge of the Torah is acquired through linking words to letters and their numerical value. Moses Cordovero (1522-1570) a Spanish Kabbalist, wrote the following in his book Pardes Rimmonim:8 The knowledge of the mysteries of our holy Torah is acquired by [building] links between words, changing the places of letters, calculation of numerical values, formation of words as acronomy and teleonimy, the interpretation of 7 In addition to these exegetic approaches, there was the Kabbalistic tradition which was trying to infer meaning from sacred texts by counting letters and numbers of words. 8 Sha’ar 29, 68c.

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median letters of words, at the beginning or at the end of a trophy, or by jumping or combining letters.... (1549: 68)

Bernstein was not a biblical scholar, although he was familiar with the Hebrew language, and neither did he engage specifically in biblical exegesis. Nevertheless, he played with rhythm and stanzas when he attempted to interpret the restricted code as poetry as if it was a musical score. He adopted the same approach as a biblical exegesis, arriving at the core nature of codes, which would crack open like a nutshell to reveal abstract symbols of all kinds. We do not know if Bernstein was aware of this phenomenon, but we do know that, besides Sapir, he was deeply influenced by Durkeim, Whorf, Cassirer, Mead, Strauss, and Schatzman, as well as Luria and Vygotsky. By coincidence, most of these scholars were Jewish. Retrospectively, Bernstein acknowledged these theoretical influences upon his work: Originally the work arose out of two interdependent problems: the empirical problem of the explanation of class-regulated differential school success and the more general problem of what, in the late 1950s, was termed the process of socialization. The latter, but not the former, was a very low-status area of study in sociological courses at the LSE in that period. I was dissatisfied with the then current theories of socialization which in the end relied on some mystical process of “internalization” of values, roles, and dispositions. I was attracted to Median symbolic inter-actionism and the early Chicago School, because of the centrality of communication and their detailed ethnographic studies of marginalized cultures. Durkheim and Cassirer provided a Kantian perspective, though in different ways, which alerted me to the social basis of symbolic forms. Marx opened up the problem of the class specialization of consciousness, and its relation to the social division and social relations of production. I linked the unlikable Durkheim’s analysis of mechanical and organic solidarity to unspecialized, homogeneous occupational functions, on the one hand, and specialized interdependent functions, on the other, in relation [to] differential power. (Bernstein 1996: 91)

It appears that Bernstein’s focus of interest was the role of social class regulating the differential school success, made visible in its obects, the modalities of communication. The latter, to Bernstein, represented the main concepts to be understood, as they produced explanations for social differentiation in education as well as the origin of differentiation of consciousness.

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From his description of method, his early theorizing on restricted and elaborated codes was initially codified in terms of psychological and syntactic structures. His early papers posed the problem of the relationship between social structure and individual experience, that is, between sociology and psychology. From a psychological viewpoint, Bernstein acknowledges his tribute to Vygotsky and Luria (Bernstein 1964: 254), by equating egocentric speech to restricted coding. In describing public language, his early definition of a restricted code, Bernstein wrote: A public language narrows yet intensifies the range of stimuli to which the child learns to respond; the dimension of significance created by the speech is restricted. Vygotsky (1939) made the interesting observation that abbreviated, condensed speech is a function of a social relationship where the subject of the dialogue is held in common. This is the case with a public language, where the subject is a special type of unifying sub-culture which renders unnecessary and irrelevant, complex verbal procedures. (Bernstein 1964: 254)

Undoubtely, the impact Vygotsky’s theory had on Bernstein must have been remarkable, as he felt the need to write to Vygotsky’s widow Rosa Noevna9 in 1964 (Vygodskaya and Lifanova 1996: 15-16). Bernstein expressed himself in the following terms: Dear Mrs. Vygotsky: I am happy for this opportunity to write to you. Your late husband’s works had a great influence on me. I have observed that many of the ideas that I attempted to formulate, have been clarified by your husband. In reading his works I felt that I had encountered a hugely creative and sensitive personality. When I discovered the article “Language and Speech” published in Psychiatry 1939, I did not sleep for three nights. This may perhaps sound like an absurd exaggeration, but it is the truth. As you may perhaps know, many of us working in the field of speech (both from a psychological and a sociological viewpoint) consider ourselves 9 The article to which Bernstein refers was originally published as “Thought and Speech,” Psychiatry 2 (1939): 29-54. Bernstein very likely read the version re-published in New York in 1961, A Book of Readings, 509-37. Letter dated November 27, 1964.

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indebted to the Russian School, and particularly indebted to those who base their works on the tradition of Vygotsky. I might suggest that in many aspects, many of us are still striving to achieve things of which he has already spoken. I would like to express to you my gratitude for the inspiration and the feeling that your husband’s works aroused in me. I very much hope that it will quickly be possible to realize the translation of your husband’s works into English. With deep respect, [signed] Basil B. Bernstein, Head of the Department of Sociology and Education. Director of the Section for Sociological Research.

From the content of this letter it seems that through the reading of Vygotsky’s work, Bernstein was able to achieve a clearer expression of his initial intuitions, and it seems that these two scholars were united by a deep mental affinity. While acknowledging the important role of language in defining the self-regulatory mechanisms, Bernstein, being a sociologist, shifted quickly from the psychological to the sociological aspects of codes. In particular, he recognized the fact that restricted code can be equated to ritual, as he later realized after his collaboration with Mary Douglas (1970). This somehow shows that Bernstein initially worked from intuition, with ideas stemming from his experiences, and only later did he begin to make connections between the internal images and the concepts he had created. This was a laborious job, especially because Bernstein’s conceptual style originated from his own inner experience: It seems to take so long before one’s intuition really does useful conceptual work. What is it that is mediating or usually blocking that relationship? Perhaps there is at their basis a metaphor which is felt rather than known, a condensation of experience which one is not altogether happy to make explicit and so one settles for an imprecise formulation which can so easily become a trap. (Bernstein 1975: 13)

This passage highlights Bernstein’s style of writing, providing some grounds for our speculative hypothesis that his work originated from

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interiorized experiences—originally Jewish ones—which were later transformed into concepts. This seems to confirm that Bernstein’s works were consistent with the socio-cultural tradition, whereby human experience is that which leads to the discovery of human artifacts, which are, at the same time, both historical and collective. The code-regulated modes of behavior, which for Bernstein represented the deeper meanings shaping the subjects’ forms of consciousness, activate an awareness of what is relevant in their surrounding reality. The role of speech, the visible link in the chain of mediated relations, becomes of paramount importance since it makes visible the invisible aspects of social relations. Bernstein recognized the sacrality of language, thus retracing the steps of the Jewish tradition whereby the divine words create reality and the whole world, concealing the essence of God. At the beginning of creation it is written—“And God said: Let there be light. And light was” (Genesis 1:4). Later, in the Torah, we find that dialogue is also the privileged channel through which God establishes a relationship with man. Man, in his urgency to encounter God, is set apart from the other creatures, thanks to his ability to use language (Alter 2011). At the same time, in Judaism, there exists a strong tradition to search for the divine essence through the interpretation of words in the Torah. The exegesis of the sacred text gave rise to the Midrash.10 This is also true for the Talmud, the oral tradition, where scholars and rabbis expanded on, elaborated, and re-interpreted the holy text. Thus, the search for the Divine in Judaism is similar to a two-way process involving language and social encounters, and these are also the two main streams on which Bernstein’s interest was focused.

6.6  FAMILIES AS SOCIAL UNITS: RITUAL AND ETHIC When Bernstein wrote the paper “Family Role Systems, Communication and Socialisation” (1964), the interest in the family as an agent of transmission appeared to be a natural step in understanding the origin of that transmission. He declared: 10 The word midrash in Hebrew comes from lidrosh, which means to search, to ask, to explain, to enlarge on.

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It has always been very clear to me that the class structure affected access to elaborated codes through its influence upon initial socialization into the family and through its fundamental shaping of both the organizational structure and contents of education. (Bernstein 1971/73: 261)

In particular, as Bernstein wished to understand social language, the family represented a consistent and self-contained unit discernable in all of society. As a sociologist, he aimed at approaching the study of language as an expression of a given culture with emphasis on the fundamental question posed to the sociologist: in which context do forms of behavior, such as speech and language, develop? Bernstein answers as follows: From this point of view, every time the child speaks or listens, the social structure of which he is a part is reinforced and his social identity is constrained. The social structure becomes for the child his psychological reality by the shaping of his acts of speech. (Bernstein 1971: 144, original emphasis)

In volume two of Class Codes and Control (1973), Bernstein provides a picture of how social class is reflected in the communication codes of middleand working-class families. Different types of family structures, in turn, give rise to different rules of control between parents and children.11 Thus, in positional families, with a simple division of labor, forms of control are defined in terms of clearly defined roles, assigned as fixed roles (sex, age, gender). In this type of family, rules are seen as self-explanatory and self-sufficient, provided without any other form of elaboration. As this form of control depends only to a small extent on the verbal elaboration of rule meanings, it promotes a social order based on the enforcement of the rule itself. Thus, the emphasis is on social roles which are of a closed type and a formal division of areas of responsibility where children respond to status requirements. In contrast, a family adopts roles emphasizing the autonomy and the unique value of the individual within an open role system, whereby the roles are achieved rather than assigned, with a flexible degree of discretion on role choices. Therefore, the social rules are verbally mediated as the child can understand how his/her behavior conforms to the rule and how it does not, 11 Bernstein based his classification of families on the work of Elizabeth Bott, a British Durkeheimian who wrote Family and Social Networks (London: Tavistock, 1957).

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as the possibility of behaving differently is raised and negotiated. This type of family promotes in children an early development of elaborated speech. Restricted code speakers, predominantly working class families, are trapped in their own environment of being under-privileged and lacking in opportunities. Instead, elaborated code speakers from middle-class backgrounds have the opportunity for self-improvement as their competence in speaking eloquently gives them an advantage in responding to new opportunities in their environment.12 Both types of families are likely to be found in all social classes, but with different degrees of distribution. For instance, the positional type is more likely to be found among the working class and the personal in the middle class. For Bernstein, working class and middle class families correspond to two different lifestyles in British society. As usual, he did not confine himself to a solely sociological description, but also presented a contrast in terms of social mobility and the social and symbolic opportunities available to different groups in a society. Sociologically, Bernstein also acknowledged the dramatic changes of postmodern society with the contrasting social groups responding in different modes of control to the challenges of the social struggle—one through positioning and the other through individualizing. In his work on family types, Bernstein clearly described a sociological trajectory from ritual to ethic, as he addressed a social transition towards modernity, with a weakening of symbolic significance and the ritualization of punishment. In this process language becomes vital in explicitly conveying a composite of different types of meaning relevant to the circumstances of the speech community. The underlying message Bernstein transmitted in his description of different codes and types of families, each with their pros and cons, points to the fact that educability and learning occur not in a vacuum, but through a bounded space, a social context conditioned by external factors which allow pedagogic communication to take place. In fact, Bernstein saw society as being organically linked by interlocking social systems (the family, peer group, school, and work).

12 His early version of the empirical analysis of codes was applied to two social classes. In a later version, Bernstein acknowledged the presence of restricted code users also among military or aristocratic families, addressing each other with a ritualized form of speech, and not only among working class people.

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In particular, the family is seen as an extension of its surrounding community, with values and behavior reproduced in social roles and speech acts. When describing the family in terms of positional and personal types, Bernstein revealed how childhood is conceived and socialized in culture without any naturalistic reduction. Thus, he also developed, implicitly, a theory of social consciousness which is socially differentiated (and often discriminated against) in the same society. Bernstein’s sociological endeavor was ultimately concerned with identity formation and the development of consciousness. However, for him, these two processes arise from social contexts that are relevant to people’s lives, reflecting his deep concern with a sub-unit of society, the class structure community, whose values and behaviors provide a deep sense of identity to its members. This localized social dimension reminds one of the Israelites’ ancient tribes, and of Jewish communities in Diaspora in more recent times. These groups, positioned between the family and society at large, provide Jews with a collective sense of belonging as they sharpen their collective identity (Levi della Torre 1994). In Bernstein’s conception of family relations, the mother represents the most important agent of cultural transmission, purveying to the child his first representation of reality. In most of his empirical research on the origin of sociolinguistic codes, Bernstein explored the communication between mothers and children. In this respect, one objection may arise towards Bernstein’s concept of the family: if he treats it as a primary unit of transmission, where the child learns his/her language as well as his/her culture, why it is mentioned only the role of the mother and never envisaged the role of the father? It is well acknowledged, in psychology as well as in sociology, that from an early age the father comes into the picture, becoming a fundamental figure in setting rules and boundaries on “doings and misdoings” concerning the child’s behavior. This mutual pattern of caring may be found predominantly within middle-class families, and not in the more traditional working class. Thus, it is rather odd that he never acknowledged this possibility. Bernstein was too well informed about psychology and psychoanalysis to have ignored this fact. We believe that his conceptual approach originated from his own Jewish culture, in which the mother is conceived to be the most important agent of cultural transmission, as well as of the Jewish identity, to her children. Bernstein provides the role of the mother with a tantamount importance, as it is in the Jewish culture, which is transmitted on a matrilinean line.

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For Bernstein, the family is a major primary agent of control regarding speech and language, and syntactical and lexical linguistic item selection. In fact, the family orients the child towards a deep structure of communication, which has its bases in social positioning roles, communalized or individualized, realizing respectively restricted or elaborated meanings (Bernstein 1973). In Bernstein’s view the family is the entity that, beside being the site of affects, it is also the source providing mental models to construe social reality. Thus, Bernstein was able to provide models of child-rearing which were “metaphors for the different forms of consciousness within different realizations of solidarity” ( Jenks 1995: 175). It follows that, in his view, learning occurring in primary socialization is a culturally specific activity limited by and subject to localized rules, typical of the group of origin, marked by its cultural features. Somehow, if social bounds give rise to suspicion, cultural bounds can legitimize it. From Bernstein’s biography, even if limited in facts concerning his Jewish experience, it appears that he maintained the links with Judaism through his life. In childhood and adolescence, he was brought up in a Jewish environment where his family was keeping up with the tradition by observing the main Jewish festivities. In adulthood he married Marion Black, a Jewish woman, and their two sons had their Bar Mitzvoth. The whole family observed the Sabbath as long as Basil’s mother-in-law, who was living with them, was alive. As it appears, Judaism was kept in the family and transmitted through a matirilineal line, perfectly in tune with the Jewish mode of cultural transmission. Also in Judaism, the family represents the bedrock of society, its most important unit (Boteach 2012: 190); the Bible addresses the Jewish people as one family. It is within the family that Jews are obliged to teach their children, at every moment of their lives, as is written in the prayer of the Shema’. The teaching of children is also specifically mentioned in the Torah. The father is obliged to teach his child Torah. From whence do we know this? It is written (Deut. 11:19), “And you shall teach your children.” (Kiddushin, 29)

Learning means socialization in the Jewish culture, and it begins even before the child enters school, with the parents involving the children in

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religious practices at home. This means that children are subjected to concrete experiences in the family, the group, and the entire community. The family, in fact, is conceived as being an organic link with the community as it represents the primary context of learning in the observance of Jewish festivals along with the community. Judaism cultivates a particularity of family relationships, as learning is initially mediated in specific contexts of “doing” transmitted by the interpersonal relationships between parents and children, to be then extended to the community and to future generations. As learning in this way stems from the existential dimension of a particular nature, it relies on everyday experiences, where, for the socializer, it appears to be a natural phenomenon. This is precisely what Bernstein intends when he describes children’s learning in the family, acquiring “common-sense knowledge” (Bernstein 1975: 99), shared by all members of the community and transmitted through a horizontal local pedagogy. This is in contrast to educational knowledge acquired vertically at school, the site of official pedagogy. Therefore, Jewish education in the family automatically assumes community patterns of life, within the specific framework of the Jewish people as a group. Children participate from an early age in first-order experiences, which orient them toward the principles and knowledge of Judaism regarding the community and the patterns of actions falling within the cultural framework

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of appropriateness. In fact, this is a tacit and a continuous process which shapes their being, culturally and sociologically. This is strengthened and extended by collective rites during festivals where the children become part of a larger community of believers. The family thus becomes organically linked to the community and these two dimensions interact with similar values and an increased understanding of each other. A paradigmatic example of this experience is the feast of Passover, where children are taught to take on a role of not only performing ritual acts but also of reading words from the story of the flight from Egypt and, thus, they learn to experience the event as if they had actually been there. Codes, for Bernstein, are acts of speech interiorized and sustained by groups in a society with their origins based on the tacit rules of family transmission. By describing the process of mediation through different family structures, Bernstein explained the diversified collective consciousness within a society, making different speakers’ identities visible, and providing the means to understand how the transmission of specific knowledge affects one’s way of life. These two types of knowledge, ascribed to the lifestyles of the two family types, positional and personal, can be found in the Jewish mode of cultural transmission—rituals and ethics are never divided, as tacit imbued habits are always linked to verbal elaborations and explanations. Bernstein’s presentation of the positional working-class family under an under-priviledged light wishes to testify to the discriminatory nature of British society, externalized in the lack of equal opportunity for those unable to keep up with the demands of an individualistic, and high technological environment. It may well be that Bernstein was referring to his own enclosed Jewish community, compared to society as a whole, outside the inner circle of close familial ties and relations. *** At this initial stage of our analytical inquiry we have attempted to re-establish a contact with Judaism as a formative aspect in Bernstein’s life. In this attempt, we have highlighted a few features which must be further explored in our search for Bernstein’s Jewish roots. In the following chapters we will pursue our endeavors by extending our explorations to other aspects of Bernstein’s theory and thus, provide some validity to our initial hypothesis.

CHAPTER 7

Bernstein: Toward the Unifying Principle Antonella Castelnuovo

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n contrast to his earlier work, Bernstein’s later oeuvre (1975-1999) moved from early descriptive concepts to a higher level of abstraction, showing systematic evidence of the growth and refinement in his thinking. Bernstein’s more sophisticated conceptualization was due largely to the fact that his initial work brought him into contact with academics and colleagues who collaborated with him and supported his theory. Of particular significance were the contributions of Dr. Ruqaiya Hasan, who worked as a linguist with Bernstein in the Sociological Research Unit, Mary Douglas, professor of social anthropology at the University of London, who collaborated with him, and Michael Halliday, who provided the linguistic framework supporting Bernstein’s findings on speech codes while working in the department of linguistics at the University of London. Thanks to these very rewarding relationships, Bernstein sharpened and refined his conceptual formulations and his mode of inquiry, acquiring a conceptual syntax capable of achieving delicacy and a more unitary vision of his theoretical program. This included, among other aspects, a shift away from his early dichotomies, constantly fluctuating between two opposing poles, to finally reach new ways of assembly in conceiving social relationships. In this new perspective, he developed a unifying dynamic unit of analysis externalized

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in the concepts of classification and framing, with relationship procedures interacting with a different universe of experiences. Furthermore, in his later work, Bernstein explored the connection between the surface structure of modern sociological phenomena and the deeper structure of religious cultures such as Christianity, Greek thinking, and Judaism. Bernstein’s interest in religious cultures and how they acted as producers of knowledge, reveals his inner need to link the inside with the outside, not only in (socio-) linguistic terms but also personally by connecting his deeper internal reality to that of the outside world. In this transformation, we can recognize in Bernstein’s work a shift towards unity, which he tried to pursue by reaching for a higher level of abstraction in his conceptualization, based on dialectic relationships, removed from duality. In this chapter we will analyze these themes in Bernstein’s main ideas and concepts from a Judaic perspective.

7.1  CLASSIFICATION AND FRAMING AS MAPS OF KNOWLEDGE Classification and framing are the two binary concepts which Bernstein used to read the maps of knowledge in schools, institutions, and society. The two concepts appeared for the first time in 1971, in his paper “On the Classification and Framing of Educational Knowledge,” later reprinted in volume two of Class Codes and Control (1973). Inititally these two concepts were employed to describe different types of curriculum codes and the visible and invisible pedagogy. In this way Bernstein provided a relational model, breaking away from early descriptive dichotomies (such as restricted/elaborated, open/closed, visible/invisible), used to analyze the phenomena of the world relevant to his work. He acknowledged that these two concepts were taken respectively from Durkheim and Goffmann. In particular, the concept of classification was refined through a conversation he had with Mary Douglas, and thus bore an anthropological overtone.1 Confronted with finding a solution to his theoretical analysis, Bernstein stated, retrospectively: 1 The original formulation of classification and framing was focusing on the transmission/ acquisition of a competence in terms of curriculum subject. With Mary Douglas the concept of classification was applied to groups and grid in her book Natural Symbols (1970).

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At the back of my mind was the need to develop a pair of concepts (because I do not believe it can be done with one) which operate analytically at different logical levels and which could hold together (it is somewhat ridiculous, but one has to add here not in a functionalist way) structural and inter-actional levels in such a way that change could be initiated at either level. That is a pair of concepts which would allow for responsiveness to and change in structure, but which would also indicate that there was at any one time a limit to negotiation. (Bernstein 1975: 8)

For Bernstein, these two concepts provided the unit of analysis for describing social encounters at different levels: The concepts could be used at the level of classroom encounter, at the level of codes, and as a means of broadly characterizing transmission in different societies. The relationships between inside the school and outside could also be included in the same analysis. We have found that it is possible to transform positional and personal family types into the language of classification and frames, and certain sociolinguistic texts can also be described in the same language. (8-9)

As they conceal forms of power and control, classification and framing allow for an understanding of the types of relation whereby different speech forms are related to social practices, which in turn are connected to social roles and an individual’s position in society. These concepts have no content of their own, representing modalities with which understand the structure of pedagogic discourse. In Bernstein’s view, these two concepts are the general principles underlying the transformation of knowledge into pedagogic communication (Bernstein 2000: 25). Thus, they represent not only the underlying mechanisms responsible for the formation of verbal codes, hence active in the formation of consciousness, but also the tools which explain the regulation of society through rules, boundaries, and limitations. When concepts are so powerful, it is quite legitimate to ask what lies beneath them. In our case, they deal with the nature of the mind and how it works through its various forms within social contexts. Thus, it is reasonable to use them as powerful analytical tools in the domain of social inquiry, as intrinsic of any symbolic tool “are social classifications, stratifications, distributions and modes of recontextualizing” (Bernstein 1993: xvii). In particular, Bernstein wished to demonstrate theoretically the relationship between a particular symbolic order and the structuring of experience (Bernstein 1973:

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112, original emphasis), revealing the social basis for the origin of mental structures. In describing the origin of a given social order, Bernstein claimed that classification is the process of category formation. The identity of classification depends on the degrees of insulation between categories and on context, which in his later works are relationally defined. In fact, for Bernstein the identity of a category depends on “the relations between categories” (Bernstein 1996: 20, original emphasis), whereby power is what preserves the insulation between them and, in so doing, ensures the social order. Here is Bernstein’s statement: Classification refers to the degree of insulation between categories of discourse, agents’ practices, contexts, and provides recognition rules for both transmitter and acquirers for the degree of specialization of their text. It is the strength of the insulation that creates a space in which a category can become specific… (Bernstein 1990: 23-29)

At the structural level, Bernstein’s central focus was on the the concept of boundary, analyzed in terms of its division, achieved through acts of separation between and within objects, practices and individuals. Thus, for Bernstein, the boundary set up within and between categories is the principle which distinguishes one social sphere from another. In this way he revealed his own ideology “which sanctifies the boundaries” (Douglas 1975). The process of separation is particularly marked in Judaism, in which, unlike other faiths, the concept of sacredness is related to all spheres of human existence.2 It is meant to to distinguish the people of Israel from other nations, the Shabbat from the six days of the week, the clean from the unclean, etc. In following these rules, Judaism attempts to impart to its believers a sense of order, a classification based on clear types to be distinguished from initial chaos. In this respect, Bernstein echoed traditional Judaism, stressing a separation in the different areas of social life, distinguishing between the sacred and the profane. In Judaism, the most important tool to regulate individuals in society is represented by the notion of havdalah—discrimination, partition, delineation—a ritual liturgy held at the end of the Shabbat and festivals, to mark the 2 These refer to aspects of material and symbolic reality, but are extended to the people of Israel as a whole.

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holy day from the rest of the week.3 Similar to the Jewish rite of havdalah, based on the conceptualization of boundaries, Bernstein legitimized the rules of separation regulating the order of all material and symbolic resources. For Bernstein the concept of framing refers to modalities of control over the form of social practice governing the message and its transmission. Framing that originally described the message of educational knowledge concerning curriculum was subsequently applied to all forms of discourse, not only verbal. In Judaism, the whole world, from the heavens to the earth, represents the frame in which an individual must act, using all forms of expression, so as to be able to respect the precepts of the Torah. This concept is repeated in the Sefer Yetzirah, the book of creation where the world is conceived as a process of continuous formation and transformation, predominantly achieved through words and language. The linguistic process, representing the transformation of the creative power of God, is created and recreated through the combination of twenty-two letters from the Hebrew alphabet, which are used to write the Torah, and through primary numbers ordered by God. All reality is made up of these ordinary combinations through which God created language. Thus, Creation is a form of expression produced by God through the emanation of divine energy and hidden divine light, while Revelation is to be carried on by man through words and their potential formation. The Torah, Revelation, is the synthesis between voice, spirit and words (Busi and Löwental 1995: 36). From the very beginning these two dimensions appear side by side in the doctrine of the Kabbalistic tradition as they work in synergy (Scholem 1996: 36). These considerations point to similarities between the mystical meaning of the Torah and its divine essence and Bernstein’s concepts of classification and framing. To illustrate this point, in Genesis 2:18-20, one can find a good example of how classification regulates the boundaries between categories, and how framing becomes a vehicle for the formation of Adam’s identity through the use of language and communication. It is written: 3 The notion of the havdalah is a predominant theme in two major events—the first account of the creation of the universe when God separated all the primordial elements (Genesis 1:4, 6, 7, 14, 18) and the consecration of the people of Israel by separating them from other peoples (Leviticus 10:10, 11:47, 20:24-26).

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And the Lord God said: “It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a help meet for him.” And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto man to see what he would call them; and whatsoever man would call every living creature, that was to be the name thereof. And man gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found a help meet for him. (Genesis 2:18-20)

In this passage, the first man has the role of classifying all the animals by endowing them with a name. In so doing, Adam creates a taxonomy, which helps him in distinguishing and separating the animals both among themselves, and in relation to man. Biblical commentators (N)4 claim that Adam named the animals and their mates, indicating by name which species naturally belonged to which. As God created the animals in pairs, Adam complained, “They all have a companion, but I have none” (R).5 Hence in verse 21, God caused a deep sleep to come upon Adam, removing one of his ribs, and from it He created woman (21-23). God allows Adam to name the animals, as only he possesses the level of consciousness to be able to carry out a linguistic ordering (Alter 2011: 34). In naming the animals, through a process of classification and differentiation, Adam percieves the difference between them and himself. In his act of cognition and perception elicited through language, a feeling of loneliness overcomes him, leading to the perception of his own identity. In this way Adam becomes conscious of his own nature. In the story of Creation, language mediates the knowledge of man, who becomes capable of the perception of differences, by giving rise to primitive classification. In fact, the moment Adam eats from the Tree of Knowledge, he becomes aware, not only of the difference between good and evil, but also of differences which transform him and change his own particular condition in the world (Holquist 1999: 99). The sequencing of actions in this process results in keeping the distinction among animal categories, establishing their different identities, and creating the first taxonomy. This process, leading to human

4 5

N refers to the classical comment of Nachmanides. R refers to the classical commnet of Rashi.

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knowledge, is achieved through the verbal classification which is guided by Adam’s perception, positioning himself in relation to other animals. Bernstein described a similar sequencing in one of his early papers, “Some Sociological Determinants of Perception” (1958). When referring to middleclass upbringing, he states: The child in the middle class and associative levels grows up in an environment which is finely and extensively controlled; the space, time and social relationships are explicitly regulated within and outside the family group.... Objects in the present are not taken as given, but become centers for inquiry and starting points for relationships. The effects of this on the experience of the child is to make him more generally and specifically aware of a wide range of objects at any one time which will intensify his curiosity and reward his explorations. Here the critical factor is the mode of the relationship and this is the function of his sensitivity to structure. A dynamic interaction is set up: the pressure to verbalize feelings in a personally qualified way, the implication of a language learnt, combine to decide the nature of the cues to which he responds—structural cues. An orientation towards structure allows many interpretations or meanings to be given to any one object, which increases the area and intensity of the child’s curiosity and receptiveness. This leads to an awareness of the formal ordering of his environment, notions of its extensions in time and space, and so is the beginning of the formation of primitive interpretative concepts. This, of course, is part of the socializing process of any child but it is the mode of establishing relationships which is of decisive importance, because the mode determines the levels of conceptualization possible. (Bernstein 1973: 50)

In describing the features of a formal language, later renamed elaborated code, Bernstein outlined a trajectory from perception to conceptualization, mediated by language and social structure. This sequencing is strikingly similar to the developing trajectory of the taxonomic classification of Adam. In fact, the first man was “put in an environment finely and extensively controlled” (a garden controlled by God’s strict rules) and “objects” in the garden are “centers for inquiry and starting points for relationships.” The animals in the Garden of Eden are physical entities of a domestic environment, and the language of Adam is explicit from the outset, and God did not know how he would name them. In Adam’s primordial experience of discovering his own world, Bernstein retraces a similar path when referring to the origin of the elaborated code in the child of a middle-class family.

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Bernstein’s view on the formation of meanings is also based on the idea that consciousness is not only semiotically mediated by speech but also by the whole range of social practices pertaining to individuals. In fact, acts of “doing” are part of everyday life and experiences as, to Bernstein, consciousness arises from material and social practices embedded in an individual’s experiences and lifestyle. The socializer actively internalizes, albeit implicitly, the social structure mediated by the roles enacted in active practices and strengthened by speech acts. Bernstein on this point says: …not only capital, in the strict economic sense, which is subject to appropriation, manipulation and exploitation, but also cultural capital in the form of the symbolic systems through which man can extend and change the boundaries of his experience. (Bernstein 1971: 196)

A similar idea can be found in the famous words of Marx and Engels, “Life is not determined by consciousness, but consciousness by life” (1970: 47). Paradoxically, Marx, who came from Jewish origins,6 re-contextualized in a secular form the Jewish principle of acquiring knowledge by “doing.” Bernstein, whether influenced by Marx or not, reinterpreted the same concept into a powerful dialectic, and went on to show the relational trajectory of the material to the mental, of social interaction to consciousness (Hasan 2005: 42). In the Bible, non-intellectual knowledge is recognized as having the same transformative power as intellectual. This can be seen as evidence of Judaism monistic view that does not separate cognition from bodily experiential knowledge. On this issue, Satlow commented: Knowledge is acquired not only through what one reads or memorizes, but by what one does. Just as the body then ”knows” what one reads, so too does what we call the “mind” “know” what one does.”(Satlow 1996: 484).

It follows that the performance of the mitzvoth—precepts which “embody” the will of God—require acts to be carried out on and through the body. From this epistemological position stems the idea that in Judaism, 6

Karl Marx descended from a line of rabbis, but his father converted him to Christianity at the age of six (Sacks 2009: 123).

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the acquisition of knowledge becomes a bodily activity, one that involves a person’s entire being. To say that one’s “mind” knows something, or that one knows something only in a certain way (e.g. cognitively), becomes a case of non sequitur. While the acquisition of certain forms of information might involve one kind of ”intake” or sense more than another, the transformation of that information into knowledge is diffused throughout one’s entire being. (Satlow 1996: 484)

The mitzvoth then are living practices which set the boundaries between humans and the Divine, and allow men to walk “in the ways of God” (Ibn Ezra on Exodus 33:13), but not to know God directly: “you cannot see My face, for man may not see Me and live” (Exodus 33:19-20). In performing the mitzvoth one gains knowledge, which leads to a personal transformation and holiness, an attribute of God essential in creating the Jewish consciousness where the Divine is concerned. This is achieved through constant dialect between “doing” and “reasoning” on the doing. As intellectual speculation on the mitzvoth can result in an inability to articulate reasons, Judaism transmits knowledge as being part of one’s entire being, thus, strongly bound to bodily practices, available to all (Satlow 1996). In this scenario, we can acknowledge that in Bernstein’s oeuvre and its transmission of meanings he was searching for a unitary vision of man and his higher functions. Just as in Judaism, Bernstein provided an organic picture of human existence which is relationally led and dynamically linked to different spheres of existence. In his view, like that of Judaism, mental life does not stem directly from reality but is mediated by social roles and relations and symbolic systems such as language. These are the spheres which orient the trajectory of meanings responsible for the variations in human development.

7.2  BERNSTEIN’S VIEW OF JUDAISM In his later work, Bernstein explores the relation between the surface structure of modern sociological phenomena and the deeper structure of religious cultures such as Judaism and Christianity. In this theoretical writing concerning the distinction between Trivium and Quadrivium as presented in medieval university studies (Bernstein 1990: 151), Bernstein claimed that they were a dislocation metaphor for another signifier representing the deeper grammar of

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Christianity. Here Bernstein offers a description of Judaism, showing his own view on this religion. Some years later, he returns to the same subject with a paper entitled “Thoughts on the Trivium and Quadrivium: The Divorce of Knowledge from the Knower” (Bernstein 1996: 82-88), published in his book Pedagogy Symbolic Control and Identity (1996). To the best of our knowledge, these are the only explicit references to Judaism in his written work. In referring to his later paper, “Thoughts on the Trivium and Quadrivium,” we see that Bernstein contemplates the cultural transformation of knowledge during different historical periods. In particular, he refers to Durkheim, who studied the connections between the contemporary sociology of knowledge and the deeper structure of the medieval university as a representation of the two discourses of Christianity and Greek thinking as religious cultures. In his essay, Bernstein links sociological, theological, and historical dimensions to his understanding of social knowledge, being particularly attentive in his analysis to unitary processes. It is not unreasonable to suspect that his Jewish faith sensitized him towards the process of education not disjointed from religion, as knowledge in Judaism coincides with religious behavior imbued by the mitzvoth. For a better understanding of the complexity of his arguments, we refer to Bernstein’s original text (1996: 85-86). We will focus on Bernstein’s description, revealing the distinguishing features of Judaism. In comparing Judaism with Christianity, Bernstein comments as such: The crucial feature of Judaism I would argue is less that it is a monotheistic faith but more that the God is invisible. The God can only be heard. The Judaic God, unlike the Christian, is temporal, not visual. If the Judaic God is invisible, then the distance between God and people is maximal. There is no way in which people can become God and God become human. The distance is uncrossable by both. How do people relate to the invisible God? How is the uncrossable crossed? Through relating to an attribute of that God. Holiness. Then how does the holiness of this God become material, become palpable? The holiness becomes material, becomes palpable through the daily cycles of prayer, ritual, and through the classifications of the law. The holiness is realized in prayer, ritual and classifications which establish the fundamental nature of the social bond between men, women and the community. Holiness, the attribute of the invisible God, establishes the unity of God and people through the nature of the social bond. There is no dislocation of inner and outer in Judaism. This does not mean to say that Judaism

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does not speak to the inner—the Psalms are sufficient testimony here—only that there is no dislocation of the self. Instead there is the complete and perfect community established by prayer, ritual and classification. The perfect community is the ultimate realization of the Judaic God. Let us take the matter further before comparing the discourse of Judaism and Christianity. A consequence of the Invisible Judaic God is that exemplars are not possible. You cannot have an exemplar of something that is invisible. Judaism, unlike Christianity, is a non-exemplary religion. The Judaic God does not want mediation through exemplary figures. It is an unmediated religion, there are only two terms: God and Man, whereas Christianity, later, provides a metaphor of three. If we consider the Old Testament, we find that narratives of the major figures Moses, David, Salomon, the major prophets Elijah, Elisha seem to be predicated on one rule—all shall be shown to be fallible. Every great figure of the grand narratives commits great errors of judgment and practice. The rule that all must be shown to be fallible is the other side of the rule “There shall be no exemplars.” Such a rule emphasizes, declares there is only one perfection, that of the invisible God. However, there is an implication here—God is Absolute—Man is relative, no man holds the truth—God is the principle of all things. I want now briefly look at Judaism as discourse. In Judaism we have a non-exemplary religion but with an incomplete text. This requires some explanation. There is the written law, the Torah, which is not only a blueprint of the universe but is a guide to the most mundane and minute details of life, in which every minute detail connects with the whole. The particular carries the sanctity of the whole. Through proper interpretation, application, and meaning, any contingency may be revealed. Thus, the written law is subject to endless interpretation, interpretation which forbids generalization, which proceeds from one particular to another. For generalization, the holy principle is alive in every particular. Thus, in Judaism, a non-exemplary religion with an incomplete text, interpretation is through continuous elaboration of particulars and generalization is abhorred. Such elaboration is only possible because of certainty of faith. Thus in Judaism, we have a non-exemplary religion, an incomplete text, but a perfect society, made perfect by the Torah. (Bernstein 1996: 85-86, original emphasis)

In this discussion on the Trivium and Quadrivium in relation to Christianity and Greek thinking, Bernstein engages in a lengthy description of Judaism which he uses in contrast with Christianity. This fact lends itself to many speculative ideas, which, however, cannot be validated here. All we can say is that it clearly demonstrates that Bernstein was highly knowledgeable of the principles of his own faith, which he treated as a living discourse, in harmony with the script of his sociological perspective.

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Some years before (Bernstein 1990), referring to the orientation of knowledge in medieval universities, Bernstein commented on the dislocation in Judaism between God and humans. Here Bernstein stressed the invisibility of the Jewish God: How does the human relate to this invisible God and cross the uncrossable distance? A God who can be named only by the high priest one day of the year? Essentially through the attribute of this God, ineffable holiness. The God’s holiness is translated by law, ritual classifications, cycles of prayer, into the sacredness of the social bond. And dislocation/distance is resolved in the concreteness of this bond and the covenant it celebrates. (149)

From the above quotes on Judaism, so vividly described, we can extrapolate elements of Bernstein’s thinking about his religion which can be clearly seen as a reference to aspects of his theory. Thus, from the first quote, we can distinguish the following crucial and distinguishing features of Judaism as Bernstein understood them: 1. The Judaic God is invisible. 2. Holiness is the attribute which can establish the relationship between God and man. 3. Holiness is realized in prayer, ritual and classification to establish the nature of the social bond between man and God. 4. The perfect community is the ultimate realization of the Judaic God. 5. Judaism is an unmediated religion with only two terms, God and man. 6. Judaism is a non-exemplary religion, an incomplete text, but a perfect society, made perfect by the Torah. We would like now to attempt an exegetic comparison between these basic features of Judaism and Bernstein’s own concepts expressed in his theoretical endeavor. It is in this parallelism that we may find the nexus between Bernstein’s early personal relationships and his later position within society at large. To render our comparison clearer, we will briefly expand on Judaism’s principles in order to compare them to similar ideas that Bernstein expressed in his work.

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7.3  BERNSTEIN’S CONCEPTS IN THE LIGHT OF JUDAIC PRINCIPLES 7.3.1  The Judaic God is Invisible

In the Jewish tradition, the transcendental and material elements of the invisibility of God allows for no direct visible access to the Divinity. The most distinctive feature of the Jewish God is that He cannot be seen nor felt, but only heard. It is through a “voice” that God reveals Himself to man, and it is through speech that He establishes a relationship and the covenant with the people of Israel. Moses recapitulates the history of the encounter with the Divine in these terms: “The Lord spoke to you out of the fire. You heard the sound of words but saw no form, there was only a voice” (Deuteronomy 4:12). For this reason, Judaism’s privileged position in establishing a relationship with the Divine is achieved through hearing and listening, which are acts based on the mediation of language. Listening is an imperative act to be found in one of the most important Jewish prayers, the Shema’, which declares the unicity of God: “Hear oh Israel, the God is our Lord, the God is one” (Deuteronomy 6:14). In Judaism, values are mediated through material objects, rituals, and actions, as well as through language as signs and tools, providing meaning and weight to self-regulated actions and behavior prescribed in the Torah. As a consequence, physical and material actions are filled with content and lead to the structuring of a culturally specific behavior linked to mental activity and consciousness. If action is what facilitates the internalizing of the Law, then conscious awareness, mediated by language, is the condition for the voluntary recall of concepts and their passing down to future generations. Human Jewish consciousness, just like the invisibility of God, develops in society through invisible means such as speech and signs, which establish relationships between God and man, and between men.7 7 The mediation aspect in human existence is clearly evident in all laws and precepts but also in how these precepts must be realized. External objects (in the home, in how we dress, etc.) are used as signs which mediate mental functions in terms of remembering God’s words and internalizing His commandments. So the mezuzah, a small wooden box hung at the front door of every Jewish home, contains a prayer as a reminder of the holiness of the Jewish home; the blue stripes and the fringes on the bottom of the tallit and the white shawl worn

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Invisibility in the Jewish faith is primarily expressed in the essence of God’s name, revealed to Moses when he questions God by saying: “Who are you? When the Israelites ask, who has sent you, what shall I say?” (Exodus 3:13). The answer is: “I will be what I will be,” in Hebrew: Ehyeh asher ehyeh (Exodus 3:14). These words not only refer to a being that is eternal, expressed in an everlasting relationship linked to the condition of being, but provide also a paradigm to be reflected in the future potential actions of humans. The name of God in the future tense means that God cannot be limited to known categories in advance—God will be known to man not before, but only when He appears, acts, or responds. The Hebrew God is an expanded “self,” a “potential meaning” which can come into existence only after He has established a relationship with man in history, in specific events occurring in time and space. Thus, humans can turn the invisible God into visible actions and interactions which connect them to the Divine, transmitting His knowledge in the world through the semiotic mediation of language and signs. Paralleling the behavior of a Jewish believer, throughout the decades of his creative endeavor, Bernstein oriented his theory towards the search for the “invisible” layers beneath the surface of society and its potential relations. As in Judaism, Bernstein’s search was oriented to discover the truth (emèt) beneath the hidden layers of the world, focusing on the “implicit” and the ”invisible” aspects of social behavior. In so doing, he was fully aware that the most hidden dimensions are often also the most powerful ones. His concern for describing the “invisible pedagogy” (Bernstein 1973), or for disclosing the process of invisible mediation in the shaping of a person’s identity (Bernstein 1990: 3), allowed him to demystify the so called “natural” and “spontaneous” behavior. However, for Bernstein, it was not enough to offer an understanding of the sociological aspects of human diversity, based on theoretical and empirical grounds. He also became involved in the search for the origin of consciousness, offering a remarkable contribution to explaining the roots of socially diversified behaviors, focusing on language and identities. Bernstein considered the latter not as abstract entities, but as concepts deeply rooted in the subjects’ material by Jewish men in the synagogue during liturgy, all remind us of God’s precepts. Thus, memory is mediated memory—first and foremost, the education mediated by parents to their children and to future generations must be performed as a real duty.

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life, social practices, and relations. Bernstein analyzed the invisible processes in society in order to provide an understanding of the individuals’ lives and their condition of being in modern industrial societies. In the unveiling of the invisible layers of society with its power and control over the principles of social production and reproduction, he pointed out that speech and its power for semiotic mediation are the main vehicles for internalizing meaning and acting accordingly. His theorizing led to positioning the subjects within their social structure, through their actions and verbal interactions, linked together through a process of semiosis. In this dimension, which has never been spoken of, but which could easily be considered a relevant element in Bernstein’s model of cultural transmission (Hasan 1995: 188), he finds an answer to his basic search for the sociogenesis of consciousness: The particular form of a social relation acts selectively upon what is said, when it is said, and how it is said ... different forms of social relation can generate very different speech systems or communication codes ... different speech systems or codes create for their speakers different orders of relevance and relation. The experience of the speaker may then be transformed by what is made significant or relevant by different speech systems. As the child learns his speech ... he learns the requirements of his social structure. The experience of the child is transformed by the learning generated by his own, apparently, voluntary acts of speech.... The social structure becomes the child’s psychological reality through the shaping of his acts of speech. (Bernstein 1971: 144)

From this passage we understand that, for Bernstein, ideology is not so much a content but “a mode of relation to realize that content” (Bernstein 1990: 13-14, original emphasis). Similarly to the Jewish God who reveals His being through an invisible relationship, to be revealed only after man’s response to significant events, Bernstein conceives the origin of meaning and the possibility for change to be shaped by the contexts of everyday life, externalized in specific practices and in social relationships, leading to the possible variations in a subject’s voice.8 For Bernstein, if meanings are embedded in the context there is no space, but when these meanings have an indirect relation to a material base because 8

Bernstein uses the term voice metaphorically to mean the “speciality” realized by a category’s specific practices.

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they are indirect and therefore more abstract, then there will be a potential discursive gap (Bernstein 1996: 44). It is precisely this gap which allows the space for change: This potential gap or space I will suggest is the site for the unthinkable, the site of the impossible, and this site can clearly be both beneficial and dangerous at the same time. This gap is the meeting point of order and disorder, of coherence and incoherence. It is the crucial site of the yet to be thought. (44, original emphasis)

To Bernstein, this potential space is accessed through the relationship between the esoteric and the mundane, the sacred and the profane (Moore 2013: 37), representing the structuring of change through the reconciliation of opposite classes of knowledge. As it were, Bernstein’s search for change is oriented towards unity, a relationship to be found in a constant efforts to unveil the surface of reality. Bernstein’s approach is a secularized attempt for a deep religious search, despite the fact that he probably never actually contemplated it, nor consciously acknowledged it. 7.3.2  Holiness Establishes the Relationship between God and Man

Separation and differentiation are important elements to create and strengthen the distinctive traits of the Jewish ethos. The latter is based on the concept of achieving holiness in the imitation of God, to be obtained by the individual and the whole community of Israel. Separation is particularly marked in Judaism, and unlike in other faiths, the concept of sacredness is related to all spheres of human existence.9 Since holiness is the attribute of God which must be achieved through explicit rules of conduct, the principle of differentiation is extended to different spheres of Jewish existence. In the Torah, the act of separation is achieved through the concept of the havdalah, from hèvdel, meaning “difference,” which represents recognition of the Divine, as a distinct sphere from the human, although united in liturgy and 9

These refer to aspects of symbolic reality, but it is extended to all the people of Israel, as well as to objects (food, textiles, clothing) and practices concerning their everyday use.

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rituals. The havdalah principle is enacted at the end of festivals and of Shabbat through the reciting of a special prayer, amidah, followed by a ritual reciting blessings over a cup of wine, the kiddush ceremony.10 The collective awareness of this principle is transmitted to the individuals and their families through the routine of everyday acts, where the individual’s intentions coincide with those of the community, which can be found in acts of doing in the corpus of the mitzvoth.11 Within this background, how can one claim that Bernstein follows a conception of “sacredness” stemming from the Jewish tradition? Bernstein does not describe naturally occurring behavior. In his view, the basic concept which can help in understanding the fabric of society is a separation principle identified in the concept of insulation: Indeed insulation is the means whereby the cultural is transformed into the natural, the contingent into the necessary, the past into the present, the present into the future. (Bernstein 1990: 25)

For Bernstein, insulation is a common denominator in all social discourse, as it underlies all classifications in society as well as in culture. To him, this is a regulative concept which operates in every social domain with its different degrees of differentiation between categories of thoughts, forms of communication, or types of social relations. Therefore, insulation provides empirical descriptions and explanations on how and why in modern societies categories are set apart, legitimizing the order they create, based on power and socio-historical contextual grounds.

10 In the Torah, the concept of havdalah appears as the dominant theme in two important narrative events—in the first account of the creation of the universe (Genesis 1:1-10) and in the consecration of Israel concerning the laws dealing with the sanctity of the people. In order to emphasize the separation, custom prescribes the use of fragrant herbs during these final ceremonies. This dual configuration of the havdalah ceremony can be traced back to the times of the Great Assembly during the Second Temple period (fifth-fourth centuries B.C.E.) when the formulae of blessings (berakhot), prayers (tefilot), consecrations (kedushot), and distinctions (havdalot) were introduced (Yehuda 1994: 79). 11 The latter are religious practices based on rituals of separation, prescribing boundaries and limitations in the sphere of daily actions. Mitzvoth gives rise to a unified and consistent body of forbidden spheres, separating the pure from the impure to be understood as the central focus of religious concern.

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On this issue, Wexler, in his paper “Bernstein: A Jewish Misreading” (1995), has highlighted a link between Bernstein and rabbinical Judaism expressed in the concept of insulation: The insistent centrality of the principle of differentiating itself, the regulation of classification of categories of thought, as well as communication (framing) and positions (social relations), is a secular theoretical replacement of the principle differentiating the sacred from the profane that Durkheim described as a distinctive trait of religious thought (Durkheim 1961: 52). (Wexler 1995: 114)

Wexler continues: The great emphasis that both Bernstein and Durkheim place on insulation or the creation of distance as a socially, religiously, and educationally regulative principle unmistakenly resonates with traditional Judaism’s principle of havdalah or differentiation. (115)

From this viewpoint, Bernstein’s approach may be conceived as a re-contextualized metaphor for the Jewish classificatory principle—the havdalah—aiming at creating specific practices to shape a Jewish identity. As it were, for Bernstein, insulation and classification are responsible for creating discursive fields which have cognitive and cultural consequences. In fact they are active in the formation of selves and social identities. Thus, boundaries resulting from classification and insulation allow one to distinguish the “thinkable” from the “unthinkable” class of knowledge (Bernstein 1996: 43). Bernstein believes that non-literate societies regulate the “unthinkable” through their religious system and cosmology. By contrast, in modern societies, the ”unthinkable” is governed by the upper levels of the educational system (43). In all cases, Bernstein’s view that education, which leads to self enhancement, is a process regulated by boundaries: I see “enhancement” as a condition of experiencing boundaries, be they social, intellectual or personal, not as prisons, or stereotypes, but as tension points condensing the past and opening possible futures. Enhancement entails a discipline. (6, original emphasis)

So, while in Judaism holiness is generated by the havdalah, a separation principle aiming to limit and separate different spheres of life, to achieve a moral

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order to maintain purity, Bernstein conceived the formation of moral order through insulation as a result of classificatory relations. This is what allows us to perceive the “legitimate” from the “illegitimate” spere within the social domains. In both discourses (Bernstein’s and Judaism), limitation through boundaries and insulation between and within categories appear to be the preferred modes of control to shape identity and consciousness. Perhaps it is not fortuitous that in his sociological approach, Bernstein often preferred to be considered a “boundary thinker” of social relations and communication, rather than a sociologist (Dias 2011: 107), and this resonates with traditional Judaism. 7.3.3  Holiness is Realized in Prayer, Ritual, and Classification to Establish the Nature of the Social Bond between Man and God

Judaism, like many pre-literate cultures, transmits its symbols at different levels of experience. However, unlike other religions, the dimension of sacredness is not a supernatural sphere separated from the rest. Instead, holiness and sacredness are attributes embedded in the context of everyday practices. Therefore, liturgical acts, condensed in rituals, are to be performed at different times of the day, embodying Jewish symbolism in action, rituals, and speech.12 The inter-connection between prayer, ritual, and classification is not a simple one occurring through mere contact, but refers to the process of establishing the nature of the social bond between man and God. This bond is established through acts of worship, which, after the destruction of the Temple, were symbolically reinterpreted by the rabbis, being related to the Temple cult.13 Rituals allow one to enter into a cosmology which symbolically replays ancient and significant acts, whose symbolism involves a semiotic mediation via signs and meanings to bridge the distance between humans 12 In these actions, language represents only one form of symbolism, being no more important than the others. This occurs, for example, in many liturgical acts performed during the day, such as the binding of phylacteries—tefillin—around a man’s arm and head. This process takes place through the action of binding, which also requires the reciting of a prayer at a given time, in accordance with a classification, telling of daily progressive time. Thus, demarcation and separation underlie actions and classes of actions which are invisibly linked to the principle of the havdalah. 13 Rabban Gamliel claimed that after the destruction of the Temple, every believer had to worship God daily through a set of prayers (M. Berakhot 4:3).

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and the Divine. Consequently, participating in a ritual means re-enacting a significant primordial event and experiencing its deeper meaning in the present time.14 The externalization of the havdalah principle involves a ritual which is made up by a prayer—a verbal action—as a form of communication with God, which is based on an invisible classificatory principle.15 This is the clearest form of demarcation between different spheres of reality, encompassing the strength of a cultural order which needs to be transmitted and reproduced in liturgy. Thus, ritual relies on some form of unspoken classificatory knowledge, and is performed as an automatic motor action with the classification as a leading mode. Religious rites, when associated with language, are often automatic and never dependent on the fundamental notions emerging into consciousness. In Judaism, classifications and ritualistic expressions are linked by a multimodal and multi-layered mode of communication, resulting in a “coded” form of knowledge to be passed on to present and future generations. This register of experience involves activating a sequence of substrata of meanings, beginning with bodily experiences, often non-reflexive, and then passing on to a verbal act, with the possibility of a reflexive consciousness. As classification is the underlying cognitive concept which organizes experiences by means of division and separation, ritual in the Jewish tradition takes on the form of a unit of behavior. This involves three experiential modes occurring at the same time—the rite, the prayer, and the classification.16 Similar to Judaism, the essential features of Bernstein’s cultural design that lead to identity formation are shaped according to a multi-modal form of 14 Through the ages, Jewish mystics pondered on how to see beyond the words of prayers, wishing to understand the true essence of the liturgy performance. In fact, the relation between the content of the ritual prayers and the Temple cult is hidden but very strong (Langer 2010). 15 The Jerusalem Talmud ( J. Berakhot, 5:2; cf. RavYosef, B. Berakhot, 33a) provides a highly symbolic explanation of the havdalah ritual ceremony. This cognitive act of distinction and discernment is a direct manifestation of wisdom, awareness, and perception, in Hebrew da’at. Thus, one must appeal to da’at, i.e. intellectual experience, before the reciting of the havdalah liturgy. 16 The ritual is “pre-eminently a form of communication which creates solidarity within a particular age group of believers” (Douglas 1973: 79). In particular, the sacred dimension, once recognized as a distinguishing feature of the culture, is transmitted through ritual.

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experience based on multiple spheres of social life. In particular, codes can be found in three underlying dimensions that intersect different layers of experience, which Bernstein (1996: 194) describes below: Code is regulative principle, tacitly acquired, which selects and integrates (a) relevant meanings, (b) forms of their realization, (c) evoking contexts.

Bernstein translates the above into three concepts: Context translates as interactional practices. Meanings translate as orientation to meanings. Realization translates as textual productions. (194, original emphasis)

Thus codes, at macro and micro levels of analysis, depend on three multi-layered modes of experiencing life—the social, the classificatory, and the linguistic. All of these make up a mutually interdependent system of symbolic behavior. Furthermore, Bernstein’s notion of restricted code has been associated with ritual (Douglas 1973), as it is a form of communication marking communality and the frame of reference for transmitting everyday knowledge. In fact, he acknowledges the origin of codes in kinship and religious systems: The origin of codes historically does not lie in the productive system but in kinship systems and religious systems, that is, in the field of symbolic control, the location of codes lies in the class regulation of forms of social relationships and distribution of activities. Thus codes arise out of different modes of social solidarity, oppositionally positioned in the process of production, and differentially acquired in the process of formal education. (Bernstein 1996: 183, original emphasis)

For Bernstein, ritual is “an expression in action’”(Bernstein 1975: 54): It is a (restricted) code which does not facilitate the verbal elaboration of meaning, it is a code which sensitizes the users to a particular form of social relationship which is unambiguous, where the authority is clear cut and serves as a guide to action. It is a code which helps to sustain solidarity with the group at the cost of verbal signalling of the unique difference of its members. It is a code which facilitates the ready transformation of feelings into action.

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It is a code where changes in meaning are more likely to be signalled nonverbally than throught changes in verbal selections. (Bernstein 1964: 59)

The restricted code expresses and reinforces social structure. It is used economically to convey information, and sustains a particular form of social relationship based on organic solidarity among members of the group. Bernstein describes the functions of the restricted code, which are meant to relate the individual through ritualistic acts to a social order, to heighten respect for that order, to revivify that order within the individual and, in particular, to deepen acceptance of the procedures which are used to maintain continuity, order and boundary and which control ambivalence toward the social order. (Bernstein 1975: 54)

From this description it appears that Bernstein’s restricted code resembles verbal rituals as expressed in Jewish prayers. Similarly, restricted code celebrates a form of social relation based on mechanical solidarity, and often simultaneously combines several semiotic modalities of different kinds. 7.3.4  The Perfect Community is the Ultimate Realization of the Judaic God

Judaism, as a covenanted community, is based on ethical monotheism, in which all laws and precepts are aimed at achieving a collective sense of solidarity among people. Covenant principles establish partnership relations that respect the fundamental equality of people, based on reciprocal negotiation and bargaining regarding their respective points of view. This is obtained by imbuing mutual dependency and individual responsibility in all aspects of life. In this view, Judaism preaches an ethical dimension in all types of behavior, which should lead to a God-like attribute—holiness. Even ritual, without this ethical precondition, is considered to be worse than ineffectual if moral consequences are not taken into consideration ( Jospe 1994: 143). While Judaism, as a form of humanism, instills an ethical responsibility to reduce social imbalances between different strata of society, the realistic picture provided by the Bible dismisses the romantic fantasy of an homogenous society. Therefore, justice has not been built into the world by God, but must be attained

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through observing the fundamental laws governing human relations (Elazar 1997: 304). Hence, in the Bible, one finds constant reminders of human diversity, an inseparable part of being which, socially, must be counter-balanced by social justice and collective obligations. Below we quote Daniel J. Elazar’s comment on this: The Jewish political tradition, like every political tradition, is concerned with power and justice; it differs from the political traditions growing out of classic Greek thought since it begins with a concern for relationships instead of regimes. It is less concerned with determining the best form of Government than with establishing the proper relationships between the governors and the governed, power and justice, God and Man. (Elazar 1981: 4)

For this reason, Judaism relies on social dimensions based on solidarity amongst kin, a fundamental qualitative requisite for the Jewish existence. All biblical precepts stress the importance of social justice, as a well-ordered nature finds its match in a well-constructed human society. Consequently, the rights of the stranger, the widow, the orphan, and the poor require special consideration and care. We can now understand why biblical teaching places particular importance on the material and spiritual liberation of the oppressed and weaker members in society (not only for the Israelites, but all humanity), extolling human dignity. Despite his full range of interests, Bernstein considered himself a sociologist with a primary interest in society and social justice. Bernstein’s intellectual debt to Durkheim, originating in their mutual search for the moral order within society (both originated from a Jewish cultural tradition), reveals that this basic Judaic principle has become part of Bernstein’s conception of society. In fact, the pervasive sense of human solidarity is a basic requisite for social life and is inextricably linked to morality. On these grounds, his theory may be considered a contribution to a further step in creating a perfect society inspired by the Torah, which can be realized through acts of doing expressed through language and education. Bernstein tried to highlight the criteria for evaluating social discrimination and injustice, attempting to provide some means for changing and remedying the social order, from the viewpoint of a democratic society. For him, the main cause of social injustice was social class differences, reverberating in the codes

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of transmission, culture, and social context. Hence his particular interest in speech and words, which were only indirect means to describe the unequal distribution of privileges as expressed through the principles of communication in the production and reproduction of society (Bernstein 1990: 1). He explained all this by attempting to show the centrality of communication in the study of marginalized cultures. In particular, Bernstein saw that the greatest danger lied in breaking the link between education and democracy. He claimed: Education is central to the knowledge base of society, groups and individuals. Yet education also, like health, is a public institution, central to the production and reproduction of distributive injustices. (Bernstein 1996: 5)

For Bernstein, education “is intrinsically a moral activity” (Bernstein 1990: 66), and a form of pedagogic discourse carrying a deeper grammar of religion and morality (Wexler 1995: 116). His view on education was based on the recognition of communitas, implying that it should be a collective undertaking, capable of bringing about social change through individual enhancement, inclusion, and participation (Bernstein 1996). In fact, he highlighted the connection between family transmission and educational processes, as a way of understanding the unequal educational performance of some students compared to others in the same community. In later developments of his theory, Bernstein revealed the links between modern secularized forms of education and the doctrines and practices of religious cultures. We have already pointed out that in Judaism education is not an option but a moral precept which must be realized at any moment in life. This somehow resonates with Bernstein’s idea of a common horizontal knowledge arising from everyday life, as opposed to an educational vertical knowledge, found in schools and institutions. In particular, for Bernstein, regulative discourse, embedded in instructional discourse, conveys the moral order of society to create order, relations, and identities. In line with Judaism’s orderly view of society, Bernstein encompasses a view whereby all parts of social reality are held together in a fixed logic, with ethics and morality representing the intrinsic elements of the system.

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7.3.5  Judaism is an Unmediated Religion

Bernstein’s description of Judaism as an “unmediated religion” implies that the two terms, God and man, are directly linked in some way, with no intermediaries. Indeed, this is the meaning of the word “religion,” originating from the Latin religere, which means “linking” or binding.” Judaism perceives such a binding as an act of semiosis, as throughout the Bible, God and man are related by the power of words, occurring in various forms: face to face conversation with the prophets, or in forms of dictum as occurred on Sinai to the people of Israel. In the Bible, the precondition of this dialogue as a meaningful transmission of divine laws addressed to man, is based on the interaction between God and the people of Israel. In Judaism, meaning and awareness can only come about under the condition of the berit. The exchange of meaning allows direct communication between man and God. This arises from the fact that in the Jewish vision, there is no identification between God and man, but instead there exists a distance which must be bridged by an exchange which takes the form of a dialogue. This precondition must be satisfied by both parties if the covenant is to continue productively. Thus, the invisibility of the Judaic God implies that communication with humans must take place through very intangible and abstract channels, which can only be represented by words in the spoken and written form ( Jospe 1970). In fact, only speech can bridge the “uncrossable distance” between man and God, and only through words can God convey his laws and rules to the Israelites. Consequently, words, speech, and language are not ends in themselves but only means to create a relationship in order to achieve holiness, the attribute that leads to establishing the relationship with God. In this respect, the urgency to encounter God in order to be able to internalize His holy attributes represents the leitmotif of the whole biblical narration. On this point Alter says the following: With words God called the world into being, the capacity of using language from the start set man apart from the other creatures; in words each person reveals his distinctive nature, his willingness to enter into binding compacts with men and God, his ability to control others, to deceive them, to feel for them, and to respond to them. (Alter 2011: 80)

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Bernstein’s deep concern with speech and language in defining people’s social positions and relationships can probably be traced to biblical roots. Throughout the Bible, man’s position before God is bridged by a dialogic exchange where language is the medium used to establish a relationship between two separate entities, and also a vehicle for the transmission of knowledge. Thus, in the Bible as well as in Bernstein’s thinking, the formation of the subject occurs in dialogue and through dialogue, where meaning comes about only as a result of the relation between two terms, experienced from a particular position within a contextual event. In both perespectives, consciousness is a semiotic process, as language represents the primary tool for its achievement. 7.3.6  Judaism is a Non-Exemplary Religion, an Incomplete Text, but a Perfect Society, Made Perfect by the Torah

In biblical narrative, prophets are not described as heroes, as the covenant established with God is no guarantee of their perfection. Instead, the Bible praises human characters as they rise up through a stratified, contradictory, and fluctuating process, and this can often be identified in the personalities of the biblical prophets (Auerbach 1946). The biblical characters gain their depth from the background of their historical setting. This background represents an essential trait of Judaism, transmitted through history and transformed into the collective memory of the Jewish people. Auerbach describes the contrast between the two traditions as follows: In the Bible the externalization of phenomena for the purpose of the narrative is left obscure and so are all other linguistic elements such as time and space, feelings and thought as well as reasons and motives. Nevertheless the Elohistic text teaches that God as well as other Biblical characters are possessing “background,” they have a deep perspective which is lacking in the characters described by Homer. With respect to their actions they are understood not only by what is happening in the present but by their previous history. (Auerbach 1946/1953: 13)

It follows that: Since so much of the story is dark and incomplete and since the reader knows that God is a hidden God, his effort to interpret it constantly finds something new to feed upon. (15)

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It is not through exemplary perfection, an attribute that only God holds, but through history that the Jewish tradition translates every event transmitting its causal analysis into mental models regulating actions and behavior. Different from other cultural traditions, Judaism translates history into memory rather than memory into history.17 For instance, freedom from slavery in Egypt as narrated at Pesach (Passover), becomes a model to be ritually enacted and actively recalled with the idea that any Jewish person of any generation could place themselves in the event of fleeing Egypt. The event is transformed into a cultural category, recalled by the collective memory of the group which may occur at any time and in different forms and places. Therefore, we could claim that Judaism is transmitted through a code which induces relevant patterns of behavior in its believers in order to create and shape a mental disposition that would form an ethical and historical consciousness. Moreover, Judaism does not hold up ideal types because its realistic Weltanschauung includes man as God’s co-partner in carrying on the act of creation. This automatically implies that the Jewish people must commit themselves to trying to improve reality: It is not incumbent upon you to complete the job, but you are not free from beginning it. (Pirke’ avoth. R. Tarfòn, Chap. II, 21)

However, in order to change the world, one must be able to understand the weave of its fabric, and to follow the social rules of the Torah one must be able to understand society itself (Sacks 2009: 226). For this reason, Judaism promotes the code for a self-governing society (135), in which human redemption cannot take place unless one has first understood the process of creation. Judaism is never separate from society as it attempts to provide humans with the means to attain redemption. Bernstein, in attempting to understand society and its meanings, extols neither purity nor perfection. Instead, he tries to understand the deepest underlying problems of modern society, showing how it discriminates and excludes its weakest members from symbolic spheres of power and control. His analysis of codes, mediating social relations produced in social processes, reveals the 17 History as active memory is an important concept in Judaism and it has also been studied by scholars in the Jewish tradition, such as Yosif Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Storia ebraica e memoria ebraica (Parma Pratiche, 1983).

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history of speakers both individually and collectively. The contrast between the restricted code, spoken by members of a given stratum of the population, and the elaborated code, spoken by mobile and individualized middle-class speakers, reveals the history of these subjects, as well as of the collective culture to which they belong. Thus, Bernstein’s codes are not only linguistic messages, but also originate from the models of behavior arising from the socio-historical backgrounds of people, which shape their identity and give depth to their meanings and thoughts. Bernstein’s examples of speech behavior are rich in background, inseparable from the speakers’ history and practices specialized in their contextual environment. The search for agents and social facts from deep within a person’s background is an ever present aspect of Bernstein’s work. His approach to speech and language is theorized in the socio-cultural contextual environment of speakers, contextually rooted in their history and culture. Bernstein, similarly to the biblical writer(s), does not break from tradition in interpreting meaningful events but, instead, maintains a strong link with the past in order to predict the future outcome of social injustice and evaluate if it can change. Judaism is an incomplete text, as Bernstein defined it, and this can be due to several causes. More generally, one explanation for this incompleteness can be linked to the idea that any creation of God must be further improved by man. This also involves the idea that Judaism can be open to different interpretation, which historically gave rise to the exegesis of the sacred text, the Bible, producing Talmud and Midrash. Since the Hebrew Bible is not only to be read but also studied, Jewish scholars and commentators taught people to examine the text critically, developing the art of reading. This implied reading attentively, and reflecting on the meaning of the words in the text (Friedman 2001). This exercise in interpretation provided a forum for discussion over the centuries, enriching the biblical text with narratives which gave rise to exegetical amplification of biblical passages. Furthermore, Jewish methods of exegesis are strongly based on meta-dialogue between and within generations, as new commentaries are not meant to replace the old ones but to be added to and interwoven with them. Consequently, an uninterrupted chain of Jewish traditions for living is created, looking backwards and forwards, generating an inter-textuality which, at the same time, is based on a linear and cyclical progression.

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Similarly, Bernstein’s theory continuously encompassed other theories, not only because he was constantly renewing his thinking and open to criticism, but because his work was a “dynamic open system” (Lemke 1984; 1993), changing and being changed through reciprocal exchanges with other broader theories. In fact, Hasan defined Bernstein’s work as an exotropic theory, open to other theories involving meta-dialogue and are not “confined within the bounds of its object of study” (Hasan 2005: 51).

7.4 REFLECTIONS Our brief and necessarily synthetic comparison between the main principles of Judaism and some of Bernstein’s ideas has highlighted that the two have much in common. We have seen how Bernstein’s theoretical approach touched on several areas of the Jewish tradition, even though we have taken into consideration only a few aspects of the Judaic religious system.18 Our findings lead to the thinking that underlying both discourses (Bernstein’s and Judaism) there may be a particular semantic orientation, a similar cultural matrix, creating connections between and within different fields of experience. In this case, we must distinguish between the more universal thematics conveyed by Judaism and those that are more particularistic and specific, which would result in defining the characteristic features of the Jewish faith compared to other faiths. Both aspects, the general and the more specific, are important in our comparison. This line of thinking leads us to wonder whether Judaism could be defined in its basic essence, with an inner core which could be identified and recognized by both Jews and non-Jews. The search for a “core” essence necessitates that that, once it has been identified, it should persist throughout time, to be recognized in Jewish practices and ways of thinking. If this is the case, this essential Jewishness should also be easily identified in Bernstein’s work. However, this approach may be too mechanistic and, to some extent, 18 Judaism is a faith with many different facets which has inspired not only Jews, but also Christians and Muslims.

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misleading, owing to the fact that Judaism and its traditions have undergone many changes throughout its own history. At the same time, we cannot ignore that the sacred scriptures and their symbols represent the essential elements present in all Jewish traditions as they rest on the concept of the invisibility of God,19 which typifies Judaism in its claim for ethical monotheism. Of course, this moral sphere does not solely pertain to Judaism, nor is it unique to Bernstein. Equally important in Judaism is the process of education linked to social justice, a concept-value which Bernstein systematically followed, being one of his main concerns in trying to implement a model of educational efficiency to meet the needs of disadvantaged groups in society. These themes are a part of the humanistic values of Judaism, holding true at all times and in all places, historically absorbed and re-contextualized by the Western tradition.20 Hence, they can also be found in other cultural traditions, modified and adapted according to other ways of life and experiences. Therefore, based on the above-mentioned reasons, we believe that traces of Bernstein’s Jewishness must be sought beyond the broad and more general themes of sociology, such as morality and education. Nor should they be sought solely in the egalitarian ideals of freedom and justice as preached by Judaism, which can be also found in other faiths. Under the general umbrella of universals we find that all things are true, everywhere and at anytime. Instead, we must embark on another path, moving towards the more specific discourse regarding Jewish values, and how these are put into practice. It is in this local realm that specific pictures will take shape, providing the ground rules which may reveal traces of a Jewish way of acting in the world, leading to ways of thinking that are found in Bernstein’s work and beliefs. Paradoxically, it is through its particularism that Judaism can find its universalistic dimension. In fact, the Jewish faith is based on unique practices and values which, at their core, never loose sight of a wider human dimension, leading towards universalistic principles (Sacks 2009: 211-13). 19 Monotheism is certifiably a basic concept in Judaism, but Jewish thinkers have conceptualized the idea of the Divine in many diversified forms. Thus, for instance, Maimonides’s conception of God is very different from Isaac Luria’s (Goldenberg 1989: 25). 20 In the past, Judaism was the oldest religious system introducing these values to the Western world, based on Judeo-Christian values.

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In our opinion, the essential Jewish core in Bernstein’s conceptualization must be found in the way in which he addresses the issues of his sociological concern. In particular, we must look for the way in which he organizes his concepts to weave them into his overall theoretical endeavor. Undoubtedly, Bernstein is concerned with particularism, especially in describing the contexts of situations where subjects engage in social practices and speech exchanges. These are particular and localized, regulated by socio-historical circumstances, and externalized in contexts of human practices. In describing the principles of their transmission, and the way they are embodied in structures of social relationships (Bernstein 1977: 3), Bernstein’s key concept is that of boundary. Boundary arrangements allow one to distinguish different social structures, such as division of labour, while interactions are regulated by social class. These relationships, visible and invisible, within and between social groups, underlie Bernstein’s thinking regarding distinct forms of communication, conceptualized as codes—elaborated and restricted. Bernstein has repeated several times that: “Code meanings are translations of social relations within and between social groups” (Bernstein 1996: 185). Classification and framing relationships represent Bernstein’s key concepts which link the structural and the relational dimensions, devised for understanding the means of production and reproduction in the context and practices of a subject’s life experience. Essentially through these concepts the macroscopic order of society is in tune with the micro-social communicative encounters in particular contexts. For Bernstein, these two dimensions go hand in hand in transmitting culture: The primary social unit of the thesis is not an individual but a relationship, a pedagogic relation, formal or informal. The theory is not, and has no pretension of being, a general social theory.... It is perhaps a sociological theory of symbolic control. It is general inasmuch as it can be, and has been applied to a range of societies and cultures. It gives rise to research in which macro and micro levels are integrated.... It can and has been applied to a range of cultural forms, e.g. architecture, painting, music. (197)

In this account, Bernstein’s approach reveals that subjects as speakers are socially controlled due to the fact that their speech reproduces their social position and collective consciousness. In his view, the subjects act according

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to a macro-sociological principle that governs their individual ways of speaking. This principle, being a sociological one, shows that social life and knowledge are constrained by rules and limitations, embedded in multiple modes of representation. Therefore, Bernstein challenges individual certainties by dismantling the illusion of personal freedom. He shows that all of us respond to strong collective pressures, and that every time we speak we respond to the expectations of the people surrounding us (Douglas 2001: 10). In unveiling these constraints, he addresses both society and language, as the latter for Bernstein is encoded in socially organized speech forms arising from everyday actions. This involves linguistic regularities and specialized discourse, which are not innate or acquired but learned, originating not from within but from without (Hymes 1995: 5). Furthermore, Bernstein claims that he took the concept of social relationships and specialization of consciousness from Marx, as well as from Mead and Durkheim. (Bernstein 1996: 91) These are all scholars who underlined the importance of communication in identity formation. In particular, they all acknowledge the concept of “other”—in dialogic interactional exchange (Mead); in the struggle of the working class in capitalistic societies (Marx); and in the different modes of solidarity within societies (Durkheim). Bernstein’s sociological model embraced all these, describing in detail the powerful dialectics between the multiple levels of society. He highlighted the relationships between the material and the mental, between verbal interactions and consciousness (Hasan 2001: 130). In our reading of Bernstein, these concepts are very much in tune with Judaism. Social relations are the very essence of Judaic view of society and models are the means to transmit ways of thinking and behaving, leading to Jewish consciousness. The Jewish faith provides an image of society as a regulative and regulated control over the individual by a system based on laws, precepts, and actions commanded by God. Every practice is enacted, transmitted, and reproduced based on social relations. In fact, precepts and laws are addressed to the community, not the individual, and transmitted through referring to God’s commands, to be carried out at the level of “doing” in everyday actions and interaction. It is this “doing” (which in its ensemble constitutes the Jewish mitzvoth) which mediates the type of solidarity required by the community of Israel.

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Jewish education is also based on an inter-generational relationship where parents are obliged to instruct their children at every moment of their lives, to pass on the law and the divine precepts to future generations. The examples can be infinite and can all be interpreted as a realization of the primordial paradigmatic essence of God—a being of all beings—and a meaningful relationship to be realized in the future depending on the potential response of man. It is within this paradigm that we must understand and interpret the real meaning of the most important themes to be found both in Judaism and in Bernstein. This is the same underlying relational principle found in the Torah, which is transmitted and constantly re-interpreted through a line of unbroken relationships, making up a chain of scholarly tradition. This unbroken chain, transmitted through oral and written language, has allowed for the study of the linguistic exchange between God and man, and its reproduction and transmission through the generations. Within this continuity lies the origin of the Jewish consciousness as an inter-generational process, which, in both Judaism and Bernstein’s thinking, is built semiotically through acts of speech. These reflect the roles in social relations, but are diversified across society. In Judaism, differentiation is based on diversified degrees of spiritual awareness and responsibility to be found in people of the prophetic calling as opposed to the broader community of Israel. However, first and foremost, at the heart of Judaism there is a strong belief in the reality of the “otherness,” “as Judaism is the voice of the other throughout history” (Sacks 2009: 83, original emphasis). This is shown in the commandment to love a stranger, as the embodiment of “otherness.” For Bernstein, the demarcation between social groups in the representation of “otherness” is social class. Both for Bernstein and Judaism, the primary focus for differences lies in an individual’s experience, linked to their history and the quality of their social relations. Bernstein uses the same deeper syntax of Judaism’s systemic vision of society. Therefore, if Jewish society is shaped by an invisible God who conditions the Jewish people by virtue of His words, assuring that history and society are not a meaningless chaos but ethically ruled by His will, then we can claim that Bernstein retraces his Jewish antecedents to the main texts of the Judaic tradition. In unveiling the semiotic as invisible layers hidden beneath the surface of reality, and by stressing the internal and not external

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moral order in the fabric of society, Bernstein is rephrasing his own tradition by participating in the historical chain of discourse which has kept Judaism alive. Thus, willingly or unwillingly, Bernstein has contributed in carrying that history one step further.

7.5  BERNSTEIN’S LANGUAGE AND CONSCIOUSNESS We would like to conclude this chapter by quoting and reflecting on Bernstein’s own words referring to the progression of his work and recounted in his own books. In line with his theoretical concepts we believe that language and words may provide an answer in our search for Bernstein’s identity in keeping with his Jewish roots. Bernstein’s own style of expression has often been commented on as being rather obscure, complex, and subject to constant modifications. Sometimes, even scholars are not so explicitly fluent when they try to describe a new unchartered concept, as in the case of Bernstein’s approach to language and society. All of us, when we are confronted with foreign or unknown knowledge, can develop a “lack of words syndrome” revealing our uncertainties in facing new aspects of life. It is also true that we acquire a clarity in discourse when we gain experience and support from others. Consequently, our identity also grows when we legitimately belong to a group, without the threat of being invaded or, even worse, considered an intruder. Bernstein, during one of his productive encounters, declared, “It was a great relief to talk to somebody without having to protect the vulnerability which was the delicate centre of one’s activity” (Bernstein 1973: 6).21 Thus, he showed externally his fear of being attacked, which indeed happened on many occasions throughout his brilliant carrier. Despite the continual development from his earlier papers and the systematization of his theoretical linguistic concepts, Bernstein’s sociolinguistic approach was often criticised. This was partly due to an overly simplified version of his own concepts, easily interpreted as dichotomized (particularistic/universalistic, elaborated/restricted, open/closed, working class, middle class), and partly because Bernstein employed a terminology and a conceptual framework 21 Bernstein refers here to his collaboration with Mary Douglas.

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of his own. In consequence his style of presentation was often too personal, with a lack of clear meaning to others. Indeed, his search for meaning and appropriate wording revealed Bernstein’s deeply rooted need to be understood. His concern with being correctly interpreted can be seen in the introductions to most of his books, which provided a clarification for his literary style, which is often convoluted and has frequently been criticized as difficult to interpret. In commenting upon Bernstein’s original language of exposition, Hymes compared it to a biblical style: Bernstein deploys a terminology and conceptual framework that has remained much his own, and his written use of it can be formal and severe. Bernstein’s oral presentations may be as engaging as Exodus, but the written theoretical statements can resemble Leviticus. (Hymes 1995: 4)

Surely, Bernstein’s early language was expressed in terms which seemed to be more appropriate for a religious anthropologist rather than a sociologist. Words such as “sacred,” “profane,” “ritual,” and “cosmology” were recurrent in his early papers. However, we have already explored how the use of such a terminology had a theoretical and socio-cultural foundation in Bernstein’s thinking, deeply linked to the principles of Judaism. Bernstein was very conscious of the complexity of his own ideas, which often were not immediately translatable into words. In the introduction of Class, Codes and Control, volume one, he stated: Since the very beginning, I was conscious of the danger of premature and misleading inferences although I had, then, no idea of the temporary disturbance that the ideas would cause on the ideological educational scene. As a result, only once in twelve years have I publicized the ideas through the media of the public press or television. My reticence also had its origin in the knowledge that the guiding ideas were constantly developing. On a less elevated level, I have never been able to contain the thesis in the kernel required for mass consumption. It is also the case that for various reasons I worked somewhat isolated from the academic community of sociologists. This was an advantage. I doubt in the early years that I would have survived the criticism for which my colleagues are justly famed, for the simple reason that I could not even grasp the problem. Indeed, initially, I used very insensitive indices. Anything to create some structure. (Bernstein 1971/73: 18)

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Bernstein was well aware of the difficulties in understanding his conceptual language. He often revised his concepts in an attempt to be clearer and more explicit. However, mostly and above all, he acknowledged his difficulties by using a “confessional genre,” by which he reflected on the meaning of his method and used his work as a tool and a basis for understanding his own existence. In describing, very humbly and honestly, his early experiences at the London School of Economics, he admitted: I did not obtain what is called a “good” degree. My work was too undisciplined and I had agonizing difficulties in expressing what I was trying to grasp. I wrote, and still write, very slowly. (20)

In introducing volume three of Class Code and Control, Bernstein declared the following: It takes a long time, at least for me, to condense experience into a concept, and even longer to extract from the concept what one has not in the first place directly experienced. Yet, as we are all part of society, that experience is in us. When a set of concepts do not work, it is as if one’s own sense of the social is obscured. When they do, then one’s own biography is continuous with the formulation. Concepts, I believe, for some, look outwards and inwards. Their generality finds its springs in the analysis of inner space. I am sure that it is not the case for all; or perhaps for some, the relationships between the conceptual world and the inner world are more attenuated and so less transparent. The relationships between concepts and the conceptualizer are not only the product of the intellectual market place, nor a simple reflection of the ideological ambience. Although clearly neither of these two forces can ever be discounted. It is sometimes as if the condition for re-arranging is the re-arrangement of parts of oneself, yet the re-arrangements of parts of oneself can only be done when the concepts have been formed. Outside and inside are linked by a tense dialectic. When this tension slackens, one is doing no more than performing arabesques around the past or, and perhaps most painful of all, the transformation is complete, because the concepts themselves, and the intellectual tradition of which they are necessarily a part, have created a language too limited for any further inner exploration. (Bernstein 1975: 3)

From this passage, it is clear that Bernstein’s search for explicitness in his theoretical attempts is strongly connected to his own inner self searching for clarity and integrity. Bernstein’s work seems to respond to the complex tension between his writings and his existentialist insights, often accompanied by a

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process of reflection. When “the tension slackens” it gives rise to an implicit hint of self-evaluation. A plausible assumption is that Bernstein was aware of Hegel’s beliefs that “self-consciousness exists in and for itself when, and by the fact that, it so exists for another; that is, it exists only in being acknowledged” (Hegel [1807] 1979). The encounter with the “other” poses a question involving strong implications for one’s own consciousness. Despite Bernstein’s fame and recognition, he has not been as fully acknowledged as he deserved. Sometimes, criticism came from all political directions. To begin with, the left wing saw the work as another powerful indictment of the class system. In the end, the left wing, especially the new left, saw the work as yet another stereotype of the working class from a middle-class perspective. It represented an attempt at the ideological level at reducing the value of “natural” forms of communication, and aimed at breaking these in order to impose middle-class values and meanings more successfully in the school. (Bernstein 1971/73: 37)

Somehow, he often gave the impression that the “theory,” as he referred to his overall conceptual construction, was a real part of himself. He was very careful in refining his ambiguous side, and very vulnerable towards any criticism. This, to some extent, also explains his sensitivity and ambivalence towards criticism. The misreading of his own texts, often criticised by others for an alleged lack of clarity, resulted in him correcting the errors of critics and theorizing the criticism itself, which he defined as a “re-contextualizing practice” (Bernstein 1971; 1990). He theorized the latter as a primary source of movement in the field of culture and discourse, which, at the same time, was a practice of avoidance and denial (Wexler 1996). This attitude can help us to understand how Bernstein the scientist failed to divorce himself from Bernstein the man. Certainly, Bernstein’s difficulties were also due to the innovative character of his approach, as he explored the structure of knowledge by focusing on the relationships internal to it rather than solely to ones external to the field. Precisely because of his anti-reductive perpective in relating symbolic structures—the internal relations to social structures, the external relations he sets out to explicate how he constructed two languages of description: an internal one, capable of describing the theory itself—as well as any theory—and one external, able to explain the empirical data of the theory. What is interesting is Bernstein’s opinion on the linking between these two dimensions. For him, the external language of

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description must be able to decribe facts with reference to the theory but also to capture what lies beyond the theory itself. Thus the external langage must carry a generative principle able also to confront its internal theoretical referent, in the view to possible variations and changes. In referring to this generative principle and his primitive oppositional concepts, Bernstein claimed: It is often said that the theory works by producing opposing dichotomies in which each side functions as an ideal type: elaborated/restricted, positional/ personal, stratified/differentiated, open/closed, visible/invisible, collection or serial/integrated. That these are opposing forms (models) I certainly agree. That they are ideal types I certainly disagree. Classically the ideal type is constructed by assembling in a model a number of features abstracted from a phenomenon in such a way as to provide a means of identifying the presence or absence of the phenomenon, and a means of analyzing the “workings” of the phenomenon from an analysis of the assembly of its features. Ideal types constructed in this way cannot generate other than themselves. They are not constructed by a principle which generates sets of relations of which any one form may be only one of the forms the principle may regulate. Thus, if we take the early dichotomies positional/personal, stratified/differentiated, open/closed, then those dichotomies all can be generated on the basis of boundary rules: things must be kept apart: things must be put together. How things are kept apart, how things are put together depends upon the formulation of the organizing principle to generate a range of forms. (Bernstein 1996: 126-27, original emphasis)

When Bernstein refers to dual dichotomies we may hypothesize that he unconsciously modelled his concepts on Judaism. His own justification for his early polar conceptualization was as such: I would certainly agree that the organizing principles underlying the early opposing dichotomous forms were limited in their generating power, but the forms are not ideal types. Their generating grammar is very weak. However, I would argue that the powers of this grammar increased somewhat, by their replacement by the more general concepts of classification and framing, together with a stronger specification of their concepts. This leads, naturally, on to the tradition to which the theory belongs. I myself have always referred to, even emphasized, its Durkheimian roots. (127)

As we have already pointed out, Durkheim’s vision of society is profoundly Jewish, as Judaism is built on a dual structure (Sacks 2009: 212). In this respect, one of the early images in Biblical narrative is that of the two

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trees, the tree of knowledge and the tree of life—knowledge is divided by good and bad; reality by pure and impure; and the Jewish faith has a particularistic and a universal dimension. The dynamic relation between the opposites is what generates unity, the essential principle advocated by Judaism, mainly referring to not only God but the whole of creation. Finally, as far as dichotomies are concerned, one also has to keep in mind that in the period when his sociolinguistic thesis was being developed (1960s and 1970s), the academic world was heavily “dominated” by the concept of competence as opposed to performance. It was the means to converge several disciplines, sometimes, even quite different in their basic underlying assumptions. Bernstein always dealt with the level of performance and not the level of competence, which he considered, from a sociologist’s point of view, “beyond the reach and restraints of power relations and their differential unequal positioning” (Bernstein 1996: 149-50). His approach did not coincide with the current trends in linguistics of the time, which, for Bernstein, could be attributed to the liberal progressive and radical ideologies popular in those years in the field of education. In this scenario, Bernstein’s theory was doubly uncomfortable as it unveiled the contradictions in the social and educational systems and, in so doing, broke the “ideological purity” of these intellectual principles. Bernstein commented on those years by saying: I was, at the time, essential to this intellectual field, for I had created almost single-handed a focus for the field’s ritual cleansing…. There is no doubt in my mind that the difference/deficit debate which preoccupied much of sociolinguistics in the1960s and early 1970s was of little theoretical significance and, indeed, obscured more than it revealed. (150-51)

Thus, most of the criticism of Bernstein’s work on speech codes was linked to the issue of deficit/difference, though he had clearly clarified his position in this respect: The code theory asserts that there is a social class regulated unequal distribution of privileging principles of communication … and that social class indirectly affects the classification and framing of the elaborated code transmitted by the school so as to facilitate and perpetuate its unequal acquisition. Thus, the code theory accepts neither a deficit nor a difference position but

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draws attention to the relations between macro power relations and micro practices of transmission, acquisition and evaluation and the positioning and oppositioning to which these practices give rise. (1990: 118-19)

Moreover, retrospectively, he clearly admitted that his “interest in language was not a primary interest,” and that his initial formulations took him beyond the field of sociolinguistics, where “I was a passenger, who both joined and departed (or was deported) early” (1996: 147). Despite this partial dismissal of language, Bernstein again made use of this tool to formulate a solution of linking the theory and its data by formulating a language of description based on a syntax capable of filling in the discursive gap between these two dimensions. Bernstein says on this matter: Briefly, a language of description is a translation device whereby one language is transformed into another. We can distinguish between internal and external languages of description. The internal language of description refers to the syntax whereby a conceptual language is created. The external language of description refers to the syntax whereby the internal language can describe something other than itself. .... I would rather say that principles of description, construct what is to count as empirical relations and translate those relations into conceptual relations. A language of description constructs what is to count as an empirical referent, how such referents relate to each other to produce a specific text, and translate these referential relations into theoretical objects or potential theoretical objects. In other words, the external language of descritpion (L2) is the means by which the internal language (L1) is activated as a reading device or vice versa. (135-36)

So for Bernstein the empirical data can extend the theory by allowing a “discursive gap” between the internal language of the theoretical model and the external language of describing the L data. He says: Thus the interface between the realization rules of the [theoretical] model and the information that something does, or can produce, is vital. There then must be a discursive gap between the rules specified by the model and the realization rules for transforming the information produced by the something. This gap enables the integrity of the something to exist in its own right, it enables the something, so to speak, to announce itself, it enables the something to re-describe the descriptions of the model’s own realization rules and so change. (129, original emphasis)

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Bernstein resolves the rapport between theory and research in the deep synergy between two languages of description, acting at different levels; but such rapport is not a direct one to one, as the internal language is too general and must be constructed in order to classify a particular field of empirical investigation. Thus there is a need to have an external language of description to be translated into the categories of the internal language. Once again we find a great parallelism between Bernstein’s concepts and the Jewish method of interpretations on the biblical narrative. In particular the Midrashic tradition provides an interesting case of an hermeneutic discourse upon the original meaning of the written Torah. In Judaism, the biblical text encodes a divine author; thus it follows that God must be understood through the words of the Torah. This is not a theological claim but a semiotic one (Boyarin 1990: 40), whereby all the gaps, ambiguities, repetitions, and contradictions must be read and understood as integral part of the system of meanings within the text. The effort of scholars and rabbis was precisely that of re-interpeting those meanings and often filling the gaps by providing several ways of understanding the text, all similarly accepted. The Midrash, by means of explicit expansions, attempts to recreate the coherence of the narrative by adding new elements to the lack of details in the biblical narrative. In this exegetic tradition, the uses of two forms of languages—one of internal description of the original text, the other external to it with new open meanings—are synergically related. As it were these criteria, based on generative principles to create new modalities of progressive knowledge and understanding, are an integral semiotic strategy belonging to the Jewish culture.

7.6  FINAL REMARKS In our brief account of Bernstein’s biography and through our exegetic comparison between his concepts and those of Judaism, we have discovered that that he has retained strong links with his Jewish tradition. Within this picture, it remains to understand why Bernstein never acknowledged the Jewish factor in his conceptual background. Bernstein’s lack of explicit committment to Judaism as a source for his ideas, in our opinion, can be adduced to two main factors. The first is that his

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Jewishness was such a natural element in his life and ways of being that he felt no need to mention it or to theorize upon it. Furthermore, reflecting upon one’s personal experience, including the Jewish one, requires a primary socialization distinguished by a parental discourse willing to be engaged in a dialogue with children, implying the acknowledgment of their “voices.” Such situation was unlike to have occurred in Bernstein’s infancy and youth.22 We assume that, due to his unhappy childhood and adolescence, mediatory processes within his family had occurred predominantly through an emphasis on social roles and status, and not through explicit (and caring) explanatory principles concerning the facts of his own existence. The second factor in our hypothesis is that, being a secular Jew, Bernstein considered religion as a faith or culture of his origin to be considered a private affair, to be kept with the confines of home and family boundaries. While outside, he was concerned with more universalistic problems of society at large. This being the case, the analysis of his work has revealed nevertheless a conceptual approach similar to that of Judaism, as well as a Jewish problematic with respect to mankind and society. With respect to this latter point, it seems that he painstakingly denied himself the right to be different, as it emerged in his comments on his own work, arising from his inner feelings, in the light of how this has been received in the outside world. We can hypothesize that Bernstein did not acknowledge his original intellectual tradition for fear of increasing the criticism against him, thus becoming doubly excluded, as a Jew and as an original thinker who was dismantling the picture of social reality. Bernstein’s own language depicted himself as a unique (and lonely) academic, working on the borders of different fields, using an unofficial language to explain concepts people did not want to hear about. Bernstein’s narrative, whether he was aware of it or not, stood for the basic principles advocated in Judaism—the right to be different as a precondition to freedom and dignity, beginning from one’s particular choices in achieving universal unity. Equality in diversity is the principle advocated time and again in the Bible, and Bernstein advocated space in society for the voice of the “other” to be heard, that is, the most oppressed and invisible strata of society and their demand to be treated 22 The death of Bernstein’s mother at the age of seven must have been a very traumatic fact in his life. Most probably it was not elaborated upon with his father—who often used a restricted code (Personal communication with Marion Bernstein).

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and recognized as equals. Judaism is the voice of the “other” throughout history, as it constantly confirms the reality of “otherness.” The stranger, par excellence, represents the embodiment of this “otherness,” which is to be loved and respected, as the Jewish people themselves were strangers in the land of Egypt (Exodus 23:9). Throughout the centuries, wherever Jewish people have settled, the principle of “otherness,” which became an essential trait of their consciousness, has always been incarnated, reinforced by the historical conditions which markedly isolated the Jewish people from the rest of society. In bringing to light (and perhaps to life) the image of working class children, their lore, habits, and speech, Bernstein gave them historical visibility by directing attention to the marked discrimination in Britain against people who represented the “otherness” in the same British society. In so doing, he was committed to the search for democracy, to try to build the principle of establishing a fair and equal society. His tools for achieving this process were education, knowledge, and language. These are the specific spheres which Judaism adopts to convey its message to present and future generations. Jankélévitch, the Russian Jewish philosopher who worked at the Sorbonne and authored the book La coscience juiveé (1984), defining some of the inner characteristics of diasporic Jews, stated: (Translation23) The fact that we are Jewish implies that there are some differential signs, but the fact that, at the same time, we are something else is even more important, and not taking this fact into account, by closing ourselves in a priori position, means lying to our own essential essence.... It is a depth which forbids the Jew from being a pure man (as if saying he were a pure Frenchman or a pure Russian). [It] is a secret difference which impedes us from entirely belonging to our category, without any reservation. (1986: 10) For a Jewish person, the complication does not come from the “doing” but from the “being.” It is a complication of his own being which impedes him from being a whole. I mean one hundred percent French or Russian, or even Israeli, and this creates this complexity, this supplementary “impurity”. (1986: 11)

Bernstein’s inability to adhere to only one discipline—and to only one culture—was perhaps endemic to his Jewish condition, a pulling inner force 23 The translation is mine, as no translation exists of Jenkélévitch’s book in English.

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which allowed him to create and destroy boundaries and thus “pollute” their scenarios. Consequently, he embodied the secular attitudes of Jews living among others, experiencing a double identity, implying a break from uniformity, and leading him on an intellectual journey that went against the tide of the majority. This position is paradigmatic to the Jewish ethos. Just as Abraham and Moses had migrated respectively from Mesopotamia and Egypt, two wealthy countries, to venture into unknown and desert terrain in the hope of finding a land for an enslaved people (Sacks 2009: 77), Bernstein, himself, embarked on little-known paths, entering unknown realms, struggling to give a voice to the neglected members of society. It appears that Bernstein has narrated a story of our own culture, but also a story which takes its deeper meaning from within the spirit of the Jewish tradition, as well as from the historical condition of being a Jew living in Diaspora. So, it is a story within a story within a story, which attempts to reconcile the possible with the impossible in its different meanings between interlinked layers—the visible and the invisible, the sacred and the profane, the elaborated and the restricted, and the legitimate and the illegitimate. In doing this, Bernstein was pointing out, above all, the serious crisis in moral values existing in today’s society, in every social sphere or contextual practice. He was speaking out in his own particular and unique style, at times crystal clear, but more often than not convoluted and difficult to decode. He tried to provide a socio-anthropological picture of ourselves in our world, unveiling the limitations and the social inequalities people are subjected to from the day they are born. Similarly, we may feel that we are entitled to unveil what lies beneath the meanings of his words. This is not an easy task, but he was not an easy man. Paradoxically enough, most criticism of his theory involved his early work on language, and most of this criticism was due to the fact that he was talking about working class language. If we take this idea in the light of the stylistic semantics used by Bernstein in most of his work, we can hypothesize that the difficulty of his style was perhaps his unconscious wish to hide from his reader, or, at least, from those who did not want to take the time to try to understand him (as was often the case, with misreading of his theory being at the core of its criticism). Thus, we may ask, what was he hiding from? We know that unspoken words are often stronger than spoken ones, as their invisible meaning may take on the shape of demons exacting revenge on us,

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masking misleading and disturbing factors in defensive rational explanations. Bernstein used the language of the excluded, of “us against them,” which was a very working-class cognitive style, but also a very Jewish one. Therefore, his own exclusion was not only based on class, but also on his Jewish religion, never publicly acknowledged nor explicitly theorized. The latter is the invisible forgotten element to which Bernstein never gave a voice. In his lengthy and thorough biographical notes he never mentioned his Jewish origins and, indeed, he was a secular thinker, who concealed his Jewish side in his intellectual formation. Vygotsky claimed that “the self is a dialogue which reflects and refracts concrete social interactions in which it plays a part” (quoted in Burkitt 1991, Social 143). Somehow, though, Bernstein acted out his Jewish condition invisibly, by attracting critics and recreating persecutory feelings for being criticised and rejected or, even, in a fantasy of being “deported” when he said, “I was a passenger, who both joined and departed (or was deported) early” (Bernstein 1996: 147). Perhaps the only way Bernstein could have approached his inner life was by attempting to overcome the difficulties he had been initially exposed to in his early years of life through articulate speculative thinking and abstract rationales. However, the wounds remained open and he compensated by using a facetious style, a blend of severity and irony to mask his feelings and his vulnerability. We began these brief and sketchy biographical notes on his life and ideas by underlining the close relationship between the man and his theory. We would like to conclude this chapter by saying that, in reviewing Bernstein’s work, some light has been shed on the man, reflected in the symbolic journey through his work, and thus, a clearer picture has emerged. On any journey, whether real or symbolic, the traveller is never the same person as before he or she set out. Retracing the steps of the development of Bernstein’s ideas was like holding an invisible thread, linking the man and his work to his past, but also the future. This is embodied in a seed he planted, growing and spreading into further fields of exploration and research, where his ideas are still very much relevant in today’s world. However, we have also discovered another side, and this is that Bernstein’s symbolic journey through his work is profoundly Jewish. He began working in a Jewish Youth Club for the under-privileged in London, where he experienced his first insights. He then pursued these insights by exploring the most abstract means of communication—language—which, to

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its abstract symbols, he attributed a weight and a body by relating them to society and placing them in the family, acting as a transmitter to future generations. He saw the mother as the primary source of knowledge, and education as the ultimate goal to be achieved by humans to improve themselves Ultimately, in this developmental process, he confirmed the principle of differentiation: humans, for better or worse, are different in their ways of being, feeling, acting, speaking, and thinking, and are subject to power in personal relations and in different institutions. If, in this theoretical journey, he constructed an interpretative frame pointing out that those differences are discriminatory ones, we can only say that he has “encouraged a shift in perspective so that we could see the received frames differently or even a little beyond them” (Bernstein, Introduction to Vol. 1, Class, Codes and Control, 1971). Indeed, this is the complete meaning of living and working as a Jew—ivri.

CHAPTER 8

Bernstein and Biblical Discourse Antonella Castelnuovo

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n this chapter we would like to explore the forms of divine speech addressed to different social strata in a biblical society, to be compared to Bernstein’s restricted and elaborated sociolinguistic codes. We argue that the different forms through which God speaks to humans are particularly important in transmitting different types of knowledge and in shaping different forms of consciousness among the Israelites. In comparing divine forms of discourse taken from the biblical text with Bernstein’s notion of codes, we shall begin by clarifying our position in interpreting this parallelism, which at first sight might appear too complex to be justified. Selected dialogic passages from the Hebrew Bible present themselves with the characteristics of direct speech, as stylization in the biblical narration often occurs through dialogue (Alter 2011: 87). We claim that our comparison is possible on the grounds that Bernstein’s speech data is concerned with oral forms of language. Hence, a parallelism may be justified as in both cases we are dealing with genres of orality. However, we do not wish to engage in a detailed linguistic analysis, whichis beyond the scope of our inquiry. Rather, we propose to highlight parallelisms by establishing some functional coordinates between Bernstein’s concepts of

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codes and dialogical speech forms found in the biblical text. As these dialogues reveal the nature of the “self ” of the agent-speakers, we will try to show how different types of identities are negotiated in the Bible through divine regulative discourse. In particular, the analysis of speech will be instrumental to highlight the different means by which mediation of culture is created and perpetuated in the Jewish tradition. To demonstrate this, we make reference to the Bible as a literary text, providing a frame to establish sociolinguistic criteria to distinguish differences in modes of discourse among speakers. We are aware that such a perspective represents one of the many possibilities of reading and reflecting on the texts under study. For this reason, our findings will be by no means prescriptive but only indicative of how Judaism may represent a vehicle of cultural transmission through its classical modes of narrating life’s events. For our analysis we have selected God’s words as addressed to the patriarchs in Genesis, and as commands in Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers, in handing down the Law of Wisdom to the Israelites. Our unit of analysis refers to the sequence of actions in these events and to their verbal elaboration occurring through the dialogic exchange between God and man.

8.1  BERNSTEIN’S CODES IN THE LIGHT OF A BIBLICAL SOCIETY Bernstein’s categorization of codes into restricted and elaborated is not concerned only with different semantic orientation concerning social classes but represent a problematic referring to groups in general. In fact, Bernstein’s two codes, one implicit and the other explicit, can be found in any community (Hymes 1995), as they represent different ways of living and different types of speakers’social integration within society. In fact, historically, societies evolved into differentiated forms of social organization leading to relevant systems of control, which reflect these forms. For instance, in ancient societies, illiterate and relatively unskilled, the use of language in social and cultural development is mainly based on oral speech, characterized by face to face encounters in everyday life (Hallpike 1979). In these situations, ritual creates a unity of experience and, in so doing, reinforces the social pressures to be complied with and transmits the common beliefs.

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When societies increased their complexity, leading to a social division of labor, any group or community allowed some people, more adept than others at communicating, to stand up above the masses, becoming more responsible for decision-making. Thus, from ancient times, there were individuals capable of using an elaborated code, based on a universal principle and a de-contextualized explicit speech.1 This was certainly the case among the Israelites, where the increased complexity of their social organization gave rise to a class of scribes and a priestly caste, more directly engaged in the production and dissemination of knowledge (Wells 1999: 62). As a result, any form of knowledge is sociological in nature, entailing the social experience of people who can act as transmitters and those who received knowledge as acquirers. These themes are relevant to how the biblical narrative conveys the moral order of the Israelites to shape their identity as a people. This occurs through language in specific narrative events and, in particular, through divine discourse as God addresses man through speech. Since divine speech embodies the values and wisdom in the Hebrew culture, the wording between God and man is the privileged path to mediate knowledge, to be passed on from one generation to the next. The degree of mediation in which biblical writers were involved in trying to express what God required of the Jewish people, raises the question of transmission of the kind of knowledge necessary to be a member of the social community. While the Hebrew Bible is not a book of history, as it does not recount a chronicle of events, nevertheless its stories do not unfold in a vacuum but presuppose a reference to ancient characteristics of the civilization of the Israelites at the time (Speiser 1970). So, for instance, the biblical conception of state can be described as a democratic one, as the people of Israel have always had a decisive say regarding by whom they are to be ruled. In this respect, as stated by Speiser:2 1 Hymes provided a wide range of descriptive examples of Bernstein’s two polar ideal models to be found in different societies. See Foundations in Sociolinguistics: An Ethnographic Approach (1974). 2 This paper was originally addressed at the Second World Congress of Jewish Studies, held in Jerusalem in 1957.

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The leaders of Israel are invariably presented as mortal and fallible. Even Moses could be guilty of faults all too human, faults that were to keep him from setting foot in the Promised Land. (9)

In the history of the Israelites only God was the supreme ruler. He is also the custodian of justice and the dispenser of “truth” through the fundamentals of His law (Greenberg 1970). In His rapport to men, God does not use colloquial dialogue, but expresses Himself through proclamations and commands, conforming His style to that of the Machtwort, the king and absolute sovereign (Zatelli 1993). However, God’s mode of discourse changes its features when addressed to people of the prophetic call. With Abraham, Moses, and other prophets, God speaks directly to them by means of dialogue. This is not a process tacitly acquired, but instead involves a mental disposition to accept God’s will, with the desire to fulfill his commandments. In the biblical narrative it is clear from the onset that patriarchs and prophets act as mediators of the will of God and his word. Principles of dialogic conversations and self-emancipation underlie their ethical consciences, implying that, in order to be understood, they also had to understand their listeners. These transformations allowed the patriarchs, at different periods, to act as interpreters of God’s words, and this allowed them to gravitate from the ritual towards ethics. In so doing, they guided the masses onto a path of personal growth, fostering an awareness of feelings and explicitness in the striving for self-discovery. This is the path to self-awareness and consciousness, opening the “self ” up to inner dimensions. This process could be considered the cultural “capital” of a small elite, specialized in the transmission of knowledge and of the moral order. Thus, a class of elitarian people resulted not only from their ethical conduct but also from their inner motives to convey the word of God, based on their ability to interpret and transmit it to others. In fact, the prophets engaged in a mode of discourse expressed in the form of the elaborated code, performing a social regulative function embedded in their educational mission. The prophets’ special role within the community was expressed in terms of their higher level of spirituality, providing a higher mental activity and different forms of consciousness. On these grounds, we can find in Bernstein’s sociological work a clear echo of the ancient Jewish religious world and its cultural forms. Similar to

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Bernstein, the biblical text defines how a specific moral order can be transmitted and sustained, why and how things can be set apart or put together and in what specific mode of verbal message. It follows that different ways of speaking found in biblical narrative may reflect differences in the social structure of a biblical society as claimed by Bernstein within modern societies. In this respect, Bernstein’s sociolinguistic model can reveal differences in social systems and people’s positioning within those systems, as well as differences in knowledge reflected in their social actions and interactions.

8.2  BIBLICAL NARRATIVE AND ORAL DISCOURSE Biblical stories can be conceived as the narrative of the Jews in the process of developing of their collective identity as a people. In this respect, the Bible is not to be regarded as an ensemble of theological essays but rather as a collection of stories relevant to the Jewish faith, based on moral ethics developed synchronically and diachronically. As those stories are described in the Bible by means of parables, anecdotes, and sayings, conveying the lore and wisdom of the Israelites at the time, it is justified to treat their meanings as symbols based on everyday life and experiences that occur in different social situations. Sociolinguistics argues that language in use is differentiated according to social contexts, as situations are vectors for semantic and stylistic variations produced by speakers interacting with each other. Like any other social activity, language must be appropriate to the situation and forms and content of speech must respond to criteria of socially significant verbal interactions. It follows that the common areas of sociolinguistic observations are the speech forms which index social groups and serve as social markers for their position within society. In this way, language acts also as an important symbol of group consciousness as the study of linguistic variations can never be separated from the speakers’ social dimension. Thus, language in use is a significant marker of the social relationship between speakers, as well as their character. As a matter of fact, the Bible shows a systematic presence of speech variations throughout the text.3 Alter defines biblical narration in the following terms: 3 Differences between the language of character discourse and the sequence of the narrative text has been indicated by various scholars (Polak 1998; Alter 2011; Rabin 2000).

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It is biblical narrative that provides us [with] the first great anticipation of novelistic dialogue, in which the words spoken by the personages register the subtle interplay between them and express the nature of their individual character. Speech is thus conceived as the arena of complex social, psychological, and sometimes political negotiation. (2011: 90)

Elsewhere: The biblical writers, in other words, are often less concerned with actions in themselves than with how individual character responds to actions or produces them; and direct speech is made the chief instrument for revealing the varied and at times nuanced relations of the personages to the actions in which they are implicated. (82)

In particular, informal speech suggests a given character’s state of mind, it is providing the ground for the analysis of the inner life of the speaker(s). The presence of quoted discourse in the biblical narrative, often representing the discourse of the characters,4 allows a sociolinguistic characterization of the formality of the colloquial characters. This is based on the quality of their exchanges as well as of stylistic codes, definable in Bernstein’s terms as elaborated and restricted. The characteristic presentation of events in the Bible is totally different from that of Greek epics and of later Western literature (Alter 2011: 80). Biblical stories are set on a stage where all players are present, with actions following one another and attention is made to concentrate on the spoken words (Zatelli 1993). Often narration holds a subsidiary role in comparison to direct speech by the personages within the narrated event. It is within such a narrative framework that we are interested in depicting different types of character discourse, taking place between God, as transmitter of the moral order, and those who are involved in the process and event of receiving His revelation. In addition, God’s linguistic styles vary with respect to His interlocutors. With the patriarchs He uses colloquial modes of dialogue, exchanged in face to face encounters, such as with Abraham and Moses. On the contrary, when God speaks to ordinany men he uses proclamations and 4

The features of oral discourse are explicitely recognizable throughout the text for the brevity of the turns of human speech which makes sentences to be short, with a staccato rhythm, while the rest of the narrative is flowing (Rabin 2000: 218-24).

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commands directed to the whole collective. This follows the convention that in biblical narrative “group speech” is based on a single voice, as if a single individual would be speaking on behalf of the group (Savran 2009). Within this domain, the biblical text is realized often through a regulative or instructional discourse as the primary goal is to establish the rules of behavior that enable the people of Israel to achieve holiness in the imitation of God and in the fulfillment of his commandments. The different oral forms used by God with different interlocutors are expected to provide some information about the relational nature of biblical characters with God. In this respect, we expect that such variation may also be revealed by the different answers to the divine voice and its message. Our claim is based on the notion that in biblical narration how individuals respond to actions or produce them is more important than the actions themselves, as pointed out by Alter (2011: 82). In this way, direct speech represents the principal tool whereby different relations of characters implicated in the action can be revealed, while meanings of events are set into a framework of social expectations and obligations which reflects the ordering of the biblical society .

8.3  A SOCIOLINGUISTIC INTERPRETATION OF DIALOGUES BETWEEN GOD AND MAN 8.3.1  Elaborated and Restricted Codes in Dialogue between God and Man

Bernstein conceives codes as speech systems which, by carrying symbolic values, are capable of creating cognitive transformations on speakers, as they are based on the controlling influence that language as a cultural phenomenon has on nature. Thus, his two codes, elaborated and restricted, reflect different modes of thought as they transmit different practices, meanings, and behaviors, in the regulation of the selves by means of language. He says: the particular forms of a social relation act selectively upon what is said, when it is said and how it is said.... The different forms of social relation can generate very different speech systems or linguistic codes. (1971: 144)

At the level of textual production, Bernstein defines the code characteristics as such:

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The concept code, as I shall use it, refers to the principle which regulates the selection and organization of speech events. (167)

To Bernstein, codes fulfill a regulative function in their contexts of elicitation. In this way, the linguistic features of a code facilitate defining the social relationships of speakers within a given event. Furthermore, Bernstein suggests that codes are learned through the internalization of critical social roles. The communication systems between social members shapes their roles and identity, and their experience is shaped by developmental constraints. In fact, different upbringings lead to different social experiences and diversified abilities of expression. Bernstein’s notion of codes allows the possibility of capturing both social and verbal variables, as it deals with structural and linguistic levels at a same time. In comparing restricted and elaborated codes to modes of divine speech as occurring in biblical narrative events, we assume that God’s mode of discourse with men changes according to different situations. These are relatable to the different positions of humans with respect to the Divine, implying different roles and speaking abilities, reflecting the degree of specialization of their specific discourses. Based on the above criteria, Bernstein’s notions of elaborated and restricted codes can be compared to the dialogic meanings between God and humans as they occur in the different passages of the Bible.5 Following Bernstein’s concepts, we will refer to God’s regulative discourse, which is embedded in instructional discourse, while transmitting the rules of moral order to prophets and to the people of Israel. The unit that we have selected to analyze the differentiation of linguistic meanings—the speech event—is based on how sequences of messages are expressed in dialogue between speakers, providing information on the quality of their interaction within their mode of discourse. Any speech event implies basic fundamental features, allowing the following semantic linkages: • the setting of the action(s) and events performed by the agents, conceived as a meaningful whole; 5

The attempt to analyze biblical text with modern linguistic parameters is not new. Pragmalinguistic and socio-semiotic studies applied to biblical narratives have proved to be a useful approach in capturing communication linked to social actions in interaction (Zatelli 1979, 1990, 1993; Jackson 2000).

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• the explication of meanings into a framework which is often part of a cosmological order; • the presentation of the “self ” with goals directed to educability reflecting the moral order of the cosmology; • finally, the organizing of human experience of temporality, linking the past with present and future in such a way that events will remain meaningful in all these perspectives. On the basis of the above critieria, sequences and structures of turn-taking are equated to elaborated code when they are identified with orientation to meaning, giving rise to a mode of argumentation contained in prescriptive texts. They are based on question-answer exchanges, with speakers providing credentials, making threats, soliciting the compassion of the recipient, and with appeals to reasoning and observation. Conversely, a restricted code is identified with an orientation to meanings giving rise to an imperative mode, using commands and exhortations, with appeals focusing on status and authority. This mode does not allow the speakers to answer back or to negotiate meaning. Argumentative and imperative modes depend on the relationship between the speakers, characterized by forms of power, defining the strength of the boundaries between them and the degree of social control over their verbal actions. This process results in different types of mediation of the divine message and prescribed forms of behavior to which Israelites had to subscribe in order to create their identity in the image of God. A diversified conversational framework may illustrate how language is employed in different contexts in ancient Hebrew society. This can be equated to Bernstein’s view that language is used differently according to different purposes and uses of individuals within one’s community. 8.3.2  Divine Discourse in Prophetic Vocation: Elaborated Code

The Speech Event Biblical narrative is often silent in conveying information about motives, behavior, and the moral aspects of the story characters. They are generally revealed through the characters’ own actions and how they respond to them (Alter 2011: 82, 146). Given that biblical text places dialogue first in depicting personalities, in any narrative event the first

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words spoken by an individual will reveal important aspects of his/her character (Alter 2011). In establishing the framework for the environmental conditions that allow the encounter between humans and the Divine to take place, biblical narrative presents people with a prophetic vocation engaged in carrying out types of events rooted in everyday situations, not preceded by any formal transaction. For instance, Jacob is making a lentil stew, Abraham and Moses are watching over their sheep. These are all ordinary everyday events that in no way forecast an encounter with the Divine. As the scene is often represented as verbal intercourse, assuming that a person’s important traits can be revealed through his speech (Alter 2011), a critical point appears revealing the protagonist’s attitude, loaded with relevant meaning. This is encoded in the verbal response of the patriarchs upon hearing the voice of God who in the most important cases respond to the divine call with the phrase: “Here I am,” in Hebrew hineni. In biblical language, this expression does not refer to a place in space but rather to the inner preparation of positioning oneself in order to listen. It means “I am listening,” and also “behold,” which indicates a moral position towards God. This act is a prologue to the dialogue, preparing one to listen and respond suitably. This is Abraham’s answer when an angel of God twice calls upon him to prevent him from slaughtering his son Isaac (Genesis 22:11). It is also pronounced by Moses when God twice calls him from the bushes (Exodus 3:4). From a semantic perspective, the meaning of such a statement must be attributed to the quality of the social relations established between God and the patriarchs. This appears to be totally different from the divine rapport held with the rest of the community of Israel. The prophets of the Pentateuch, in fact, are those willing to enter into dialogue with God because they place themselves in a position open to selective listening, ready to receive the divine word. “Listening” in the Bible is an imperative to be found in Judaism’s most important prayer, the Shemà, which means to listen, implying learning and understanding by virtue of which a direct personal relationship can be created with God (Sacks 2010). This attitude involves a voluntary act of will, providing a new quality of interaction, enriched by the modality of the language in use and resulting in a special type of dialogue between the patriarchs and God, the former being able to negotiate meanings on the same ground.

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As Abraham listens to God, it is through the mastery of his rhetoric that he is able to argue, invoking divine moral obligations regarding the innocent in the Sodom and Gomorra narration. In so doing, he attempts to defend universal justice by challenging God through a question: And Abraham drew near and said: “Wilt Thou indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? What if there are fifty righteous people in the city, wilt Thou indeed sweep away and not spare the place for the fifty righteous that are therein?” (Genesis 18:23-24) And the Lord said: “If I find fifty righteous people in the city of Sodom, then I will spare the whole place for their sake.” (Genesis 18:26)

In Judaism, questions are cultural categories based on a dialectic of turntaking between man and God. The two entities must argue in order to negotiate meaning if they wish to communicate with each other. In particular, questions are important devices to mediate cultural activities, shaped in such a way to mediate a higher mental process in the individual. Abraham then continues as follows: And He said: “Oh, let not the LORD be angry, and I will speak yet but this once. Per adventure ten shall be found there.” And He said: I will not destroy it for the ten’s sake. And the LORD went His way, as soon as He had left off communing with Abraham; and Abraham returned unto his place. (Genesis 18:32-33)

It is clear that the patriarch is able to forward his opinion by means of a constant dialectic with God, and becomes so close to Him (physically and symbolically) that finally God modifies His decision as a result of Abraham’s argument. The possibility of negotiating meanings through symmetrical turn-taking arises from the nature of the social bond which links Abraham and God as the two parties of the covenant.6 Their dialogue can take place because the two speakers, despite their differences, are on 6 This was established first through language, but it was eventually reinforced semiotically through the implementation of specific acts carried out through modalities other than language, involving the body, i.e. circumcision, extended later to include specific acts of “doing” which the entire community of Israel was commanded to perform, i.e. the mitzvoth.

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the same level, according to a model of reciprocity and mutual responsibility. As the parties to a covenant are bound together, Abraham can explain his needs as an act of self-affirmation. The revelation of the “self ” represents an important condition capable of revealing the inner aspects of one’s personality, implying both power of dissent and readiness to receive a message of educability. This is what happens to Abraham who reveals his intrinsic “self ” by using a preliminary expression showing deference to the divine authority: “Oh, let not the LORD be angry, and I will speak.” (Genesis 19:30). The covenant with God’s promise that the people of Israel will be the heirs to the land (Genesis 15:18-21), is also transmitted to future generations. Thus, it is not surprising that later patriarchs and figures of prophetic leadership held a similar position in their dialogue with God. Very often, in fact, the conversation between Moses and God is also based on a dialogue of mutual inquiry undertaken by the two parties (Nohrnberg 1995: 177). Thus, when it is reported that Moses is able to speak to God “mouth to mouth” (Numbers 12:8), this implies that he was questioning God’s commands. Through dialogue with God, Moses reveals his inner “self ” by expressing his innermost fears on how to protect himself from the Pharaoh. At the same time, he challenges God who has made decisions on his behalf (“And Moses said unto God: ‘Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?’” [Exodus 3:11]). This is in line with the general biblical principle of differentiating characters, mainly expressed through a contrastive dialogue (Alter, 2011: 90-91). After the revelation of God’s name during the long conversation with Moses, there is the following exchange between the two speakers: And Moses said unto the Lord: “Oh Lord, I am not a man of words, neither heretofore, nor since Thou hast spoken unto Thy servant, for I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.” And the Lord said unto him: “Who hath made man’s mouth? or who makes a man dumb, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt speak.” And he said: “Oh Lord, send, I pray Thee, by the hand of him whom Thou wilt send.” And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses, and He said: “Is there not Aaron thy brother the Levite? I know that he can speak well.... And thou shalt speak unto him, and put the

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words in his mouth; and I will be with thy mouth, and with his mouth, and will teach you what ye shall do.” (Exodus 4:10-15)

Here it appears that there is an ascending order of explicitness and mutual trust between the speakers in opening themselves up to motives and inner emotions. In fact, not only is Moses able to argue with God, he is also capable of bringing out God’s anger. On this occasion, Moses is able to confront God’s negative feelings, as in their social intercourse he is capable of carrying out and maintaining his own role. On these grounds, Moses manages to achieve the appointment of Aaron as speaker on his behalf before the people of Israel by claiming that he, himself, was not an adept speaker. His power of negotiated authority goes as far as questioning God’s name through provoking a considerably long conversation. And Moses said unto God: “Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them: The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you; and they shall say to me. What is His name? What shall I say unto them?” And God said unto Moses: I AM THAT I AM; and He said: “Thou shalt say unto the children of Israel. I AM hath sent me unto you.” (Exodus 3:13-14)

Here the dialogue comes to a climax as God for the first time reveals Himself to the people, and in so doing places Himself on the same level as Moses. Communication is expressed through symbols of individuated identities, where the separation between man and God is bridged through the semiotic aspects of the word, negotiated through dynamic exchanges of meanings between the interlocutors. In commenting on this exchange, Norhnberg states: The long exchange shows [that] God is with his human addressee. Such a conversation, however, also shows its partners doing more than merely conducting a talk that establishes parity and cooperation, it also shows each of them allowing himself to be governed in the presence of the other by conversational norms. (1995: 177)

Quite clearly the patriarchs held a specific position in relation to God, as Abraham and Moses for the first time in human history had the privilege of experiencing a direct revelation of God’s presence and intentions. Thanks to

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their successful managing of discourse with the divine speaker, they acquired a God-like knowledge and were able to understand the other’s point of view through mental and reflexive activity. In fact, the turn-taking pattern in their dialogic conversation created an intrinsic motivation for listening to all of the utterances, allowing them to control the understanding of their meaning. Because of this cognitive ability, they were able to internalize new knowledge to the extent of being actually able to speak in God’s name, often reporting His words to the rest of the community (”Thus said the Lord”). Therefore, it is not surprising that Moses was able to transmit the word of God also through the written word: And Moses wrote all the words of the LORD. And he rose early in the morning, and built an altar at the foot of the mountain, and twelve pillars, according to the twelve tribes of Israel. (Exodus 24:4)

Through the act of writing, Moses uses a new channel to communicate meaning leading to new ways of thinking capable of transforming structures of consciousness. Written speech, assuming the elaborated code,7 can convey information in any context, thus ensuring a cultural transmission conceived in historical terms, directed to future generations, transcending time and space. From the standpoint of our comparison, the few quoted examples from the biblical stories may be thought of as illustrative of the use of Bernstein’s elaborated code. The pattern of information-seeking between speakers and the addressee’s response are features of elaborated code, initially defined by Bernstein as formal language (Bernstein 1971). This code encourages expressions of feelings as well as elaborated explanations. This form of dialogue is capable of producing reasoning and argumentation, or of leading to possible disagreement due to speakers’ differentiation of roles, revealing the speakers’ inner “selves” thanks to the pervasiveness of a pedagogical message. On features of elaborated code, Bernstein states: Elaborated variants [...] involve the speakers in particular role relationships, and if you cannot manage the role, you can’t produce the appropriate speech. For as the speaker proceeds to individualize his meanings, he is differentiated 7 Ong equated the elaborated code to literacy, re-labeling restricted and elaborated code as “oral-based” and “text-based” codes (Ong 1982: 106).

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from others like a figure from its ground. (Bernstein 1971/1973: 202, original emphasis)

Furthermore: The inner part of the speaker has become psychologically active through the verbal aspect of the communication. Various defensive strategies may be used to decrease potential vulnerability of “self ” and to increase the vulnerability of others. The verbal aspect of the communication becomes a vehicle for the transmission of individuated symbols. The “I” prevails over the “we.” (202)

He also states: The [elaborated] code will facilitate the verbal transmission and elaboration of the individual’s unique experience. The condition of the listener [...] will not be taken for granted, as the speaker is likely to modify his speech in the light of the special conditions and attributes of the listener. This is not to say that such modifications will always occur, but that this possibility exists. .... An elaborated code, through its regulation, induces in its speakers a sensitivity to the implications of separateness and differences and points to the possibilities inherent in a complex conceptual hierarchy of the organization of experience. (150-51)

In the biblical narrative, a similar relation implies the development of the individual “self,” as individuation and psychological differentiation are human capacities mediated by language alone. This also shows the potential of humans to be separate, to articulate as entities independent from God. In Judaism, unlike Christianity, man cannot become God and God cannot become man. Because of this conception, speech is a symbolic means to bridge between two different entities and becomes the prior tool for mediating social, psychological, and political negotiations between humans and God, as well as between one person and another (Alter 2011). The mastering of speech allows the patriarchs to produce texts in which their logical arguments are set forth to Divinity, providing reasons to justify each other’s position and reciprocal points of view. This ability to master the medium of language permits the patriarchs to achieve a higher status, raising them above their ordinary positions, allowing them to attain the role of spreading and mediating the word of God. Their vocation,

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mediated by their use of language and by their mastery of the rules of discourse, provides the tools whereby they took on a highly specialized role, in the eyes of God and of the Israelite community. 8.3.3  Revelation in the Sinai: Restricted Code

The Speech Event Very different types of dialogical encounters are to be found in some passages in Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers, where the text contains directives announcing the biblical Laws to the Israelites. The revelation of the theophany through the presentation of the commandments takes on a very different meaning if compared to the prophetic call. In fact, the position of the ordinary individual in the Israelite community at the time was very different from that of the prophets in Genesis. God appears to the community of Israel in a social context that does not belong to the sphere of a common everyday practices. Rather, it represents an event of extraordinary importance as it refers to the revelation on Mount Sinai. Here God’s message is conveyed in order to shape the identity of the people of Israel, not addressed to single individuals but to the community as a whole. This is made evident by the fact that the commandments were delivered on the day of the Assembly, thus creating a fully mediating environment and guaranteeing that the experience would be transmitted to future generations (Deuteronomy 21:12-13). Well-delineated boundaries regarding the hierarchy and social positioning of speakers were the means by which the people of Israel stood before God. This was due to the fact that the community was markedly separate from the sacred dimension. In Judaism, in fact, there cannot exist a direct relationship between God and the community of Israel, and strong lines of separation are are drawn between the people and the Divine. People, confronted with the power of God, trembled as they were frightened, totally unprepared to deal with this event. They often required further proof in the form of tangible “miracles,” through the verbal mediation of a person like Moses in order to pass from a state of instinctive need and reaction to a higher level of consciousness. However, the fear of the people was justified, as the voice of God was heard in the midst of lightning and other violent natural manifestations, striking terror into their hearts:

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And all the people perceived the thunderings, and the lightnings and the voice of the horn and the mountain smoking; and when the peoople saw it, they trembled, and stood afar off. (Exodus 20:15)

Communication in this situation was achieved through a number of sense perceptions, visual and auditory, interrelated with speech, typical of the public language of Bernstein’s restricted code. He described these features as follows: [In public language] traditional phrases, idioms, etc., tend to operate at a low casual level of generality in which descriptive, concrete, visual, tactile symbols are employed, aimed at maximizing the emotive rather than the logical impact. (Bernstein 1973: 67, original emphasis)

Indeed, this is the case of the people of Israel whose emotional reactions forced them to appoint Moses to act as their mediator, addressing him as follows: Speak thou with us, and we will hear, but let not God speak with us, lest we die. (Exodus 20:16)

By translating the divine message to the entire community of Israel, Moses manages to produce the specific conditions required to report God’s words to the people. In so doing he provided explicit answers to their doubts, using pedagogic reasoning to persuade them. It is Moses who is appointed to the task of acting as human mediator between God and his people, who must be exposed to visible manifestations in order to accept the legitimacy of the moral order founded on duty, respect, and fidelity to God. Respect is the regulator of the correct distancing and the acceptable presentation of the “self ” as well as a means for its defense. However, being respectful also means acknowledging one’s place within a given structure, while loyalty is necessary to guarantee the reproduction of that structure through ritual in everyday actions. God’s opening of the Decalogue with an indirect speech act: “I am the Lord your God” (Exodus 20:2), demanding loyalty, requires the people to fully adhere to the covenant. This is also reinforced by the imperative mood used, allowing no form of argument. At the same time, the message distances God from the Israelites, maximizing the status of authority associated with social roles. Additionally, the specific content of transmission in the Decalogue is based on multiple semiotic dimensions, regulating a wide range of senses (visual, auditory, body language, speech). These involve the whole body and its senses:

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Thou shalt have no other gods before Me. Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image, or any manner of likeness, of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; thou shalt not bow down unto them or serve them; for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God. (Exodus 20:3-5)

Linguistically, God’s pronouncement of the Ten Commandments is achieved through simple short commands, so concentrated in the Hebrew language that they are known as the “words.”8 They are characterized by a number of linguistic features that typify the restricted code, such as: Short, grammatically simple, often unfinished sentences, a poor syntactical construction with a verbal form stressing the active mood. (Bernstein 1973: 62)

The specific features of this transmission can be clearly related to those of the restricted code, as described in Bernstein’s early papers: The pure form of a restricted code would be one where all the words, and hence the organizing structure irrespective of its degree of complexity, are wholly predictable for speakers and listeners. Examples of this pure form would be ritualistic modes of communication. Relationships regulated by protocol, types of religious services, cocktail party routines, some story telling situations. In these relations individual differences cannot be signalled through the verbal channel except in so far as the choice of sequence or routine exists. It is transmitted essentially through variations in extra-verbal signs. (Bernstein 1971/1973: 147)

The use of a public language implies that messages are not mediated by rationality. In fact, the significance of the precepts stated in Exodus is not apparent prior to the experience of any attempt to live by them. For this reason, it was not easy to argue with the Israelites and provide elucidation or clarification before putting the principles into practices explained in such an assertive style. For instance, the only reason for respecting the strict, complex dietary rules was God’s command: [Do this] For I am the LORD your God; sanctify yourself therefore, and be ye holy; for I am holy. (Leviticus 11:44) 8

In Hebrew devarim or dibrot, i.e. commandments.

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In these phrases, similar to others of the same kind, the explanation coincides with the conclusion, which is one of the features of the restricted code as described by Bernstein: A statement of fact is often used as both a reason and a conclusion, or, more accurately, the reason and the conclusion are confounded to produce a categoric statement, e.g. “Do as I tell you,” “Hold on tight,” “You are not going out,” “Lay off that.” (1973: 62)

The fact that the Israelites accepted the structuring of their entire lives on ritual is tantamount to a denial of any obvious purposefulness, because this prescribed way of life is based on the command of “just doing” (Bark 1999). It is written: Therefore ye shall keep My commandments, and do them: I am the Lord. (Leviticus 22:31)

This is typical of the imperative mode based on authority presupposing no interaction will take place. This is another aspect of the restricted code, which Bernstein describes as: ...in public language, where this confounding feature frequently occurs, the authority or legitimacy for the statement will reside in the form of the social relationship which is not verbally present (by a parent to a child; the lower ranks of a chain of command in an army hierarchy by a leader to a gang member), rather than in reasoned principles. The categoric statement is used in order to bring about the immediate termination of behaviour or the immediate initiating of new behaviour. (Bernstein 1973: 66)

Examples drawn from the book of Leviticus, representing a legal context, provide further elements conveyed in the same style. In Leviticus, God asks Moses to address the community of Israel to tell them that they should be holy because God himself is holy (Leviticus 29:1). The quality of holiness is presented personally by God and depends on how people conduct their life: Ye shall not steal, neither shall ye deal falsely, nor lie one to another. And ye shall not swear by My name falsely, so that thou profane the name of thy God. I am the LORD. (Leviticus 19:11) Thou shalt not curse the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind, but shall fear thy Lord: I am the LORD. (Leviticus 19:14)

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Ye shall be not unrighteousness in judgement; thou shalt not respect the person of the poor, nor favour the person of the mighty: but in righteousness shalt thou judge they neighbour. I am the LORD (Leviticus 19:15-16)

The frequently repeated injunction “I AM THE LORD” communicates the divine presence in a continuous rhythm, fundamental to ensuring the full reception of the message transmitted through a restricted code. The rhythm of repetition creates an interplay between sight and sound similar to that of prayers and liturgical canticles, bestowing an inner, oral structure on the text (Bark 1999: 203). God’s proximity is experienced through the repeated offering, which implies the “drawing towards” but also the action of walking with God and observing his ordinances, to be learned through rituals and fully assimilated behaviors as unconditional reflexes. This concept is clearly spelt out in the following verse: My ordinances shall ye do, and My statutes shall ye keep to walk therein: I am the LORD your God. (Leviticus 18:3-4)

The words in the text are consistent with this kind of message. They convey no explanations for carrying out the deeds nor any other purpose or efficacy. In this manner “a way of life to walk therein” has to be learned and become an automatic natural process. In Judaism, following the path of God and adhering to his commandments are in themselves responses to casual efficacy, a way of establishing relationships leading to the sanctification of people and bridging the distance between human beings and God. Similarly, the process of separation occurs not only between man and God, but also underlies being holy—in Hebrew, kadosh, as the word denotes separation, which, in Leviticus, focuses on the spheres of everyday life. The radicalism of this message is rooted in the fact that the complete sphere of life is made up of and conditioned by the observance of ordinances which allow no room for compromise, because the Israelites are constantly in the presence of God. The basic condition for observance of the ordinances lies in the ordinances themselves. This also involves the fact that God and Israel enjoy an intimate relationship, a social rapport typical of the restricted code, implying a strong communality of selves. It is precisely because of this intimacy that Israel can be held accountable for its transgressions ( Jospe 1994: 139).

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The passages in Exodus and Leviticus, and their verbal mode of cultural transmission, are strikingly similar to the features of restricted code. In imperative control, a dominant mode of the restricted code, what is taken over is only knowledge of simple hierarchical relationships, without the explanation of underlying principles of communication (Cook-Gumperz 1973: 50). If God’s laws and precepts are transmitted through the public language of the restricted code, according to Bernstein, there will be little room for disobedience or argumentation. As a matter of fact, the Bible tells us that the Israelites upon the revelation on Mount Sinai accepted God’s commands unconditionally: And he took the book of the covenant, and read in the hearing of the people. And they said: All that the Lord hath spoken will we do, and obey. (Exodus 24:7)

Bernstein describes in similar terms the meaning of common everyday activities in the use of public language: The concern with the immediate prevents the development of a reflexive experience; and a resistance to change or inherent conservatism is partly a function of a lack of interest in processes and a concern with things. (Bernstein 1973: 69)

In the Bible, in fact, God’s command to observe the precepts regards the material aspects of life that can be achieved in the “here and now” situation, where “doing” is not part of a process but is concerned with objects and material aspects of behavior. Bernstein continues: Another important protective function of the public language is that other forms of language-use (i.e. formal language) will not be directly comprehensible but it will be mediated through the public language. In other words, a formal language will be translated into the public language and thus an alternative orientation, which would lead the individual beyond the confines, affective and cognitive, of the public language, is neutralized. (69)

It appears that in Judaism the observance of the precepts through acts of “doing,” based on multiple semiotic signs, mediates reflexive knowledge that could be later translated into rational terms. If principles of Judaism were to be

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challenged through rationality and logical considerations, they could jeopardise the immediate observance of the laws and commandments. Hence the need to build a fence around the Torah by strenghtening rituals and precepts. In conclusion, by associating Bernstein’s meanings with those found in the Bible, we have highlighted different uses of speech among biblical characters engaged in conversation with God. These usages correspond to semantic styles defined by Bernstein as elaborated and restricted codes, with underlying goals and functions to be achieved by speakers within a given context-event. In the biblical tradition there are clear examples of the use of the two codes, repeated cyclically in many passages of the text. Evidence of speech variations of this kind has been provided through examples of spoken exchanges between God and the prophets, and divine proclamations intended for the entire community of Israel. These two different meaning orientations permit the identification of two distinct types of responses, linked to the speakers’ positions in regard to divine discourse. The prophets place themselves in direct contact with the voice of God, assuming their role and taking responsibility not by reference to membership but by virtue of the unique personal attributes which allow them to listen to and argue with God. Conversation with God takes place by means of symmetrical turntaking based on dialogic exchanges, through the speakers’ understanding of their reciprocal speech. Here, moral order is semiotically mediated directly and through language alone, as the speakers always remain separate entities to God. On the contrary, the community of Israel is not in a position to receive God’s words directly. The people of Israel avoid immediate contact with God as they need the mediation of Moses who transmits the moral order as dictated by God. This is to be achieved through the observance of the bodily and material precepts, categorized in the mitzvoth as behavioral actions of “doing.” In this process, communication is asymmetrical, based on a speech exchange system with strong powers given to authority and no means of control for the people of Israel who are obliged to accept the divine message with no possible alternatives. A systematic consequence of the turn-taking organization of God’s dialogic with humans takes on a universal sociolinguistic significance regarding the point that speech is generally responsive to the nature of the socio-cultural

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nature of speakers. In fact, the forms of their response relate to the contextual features of the situation. These are the theoretical assumptions upon which Bernstein’s sociolinguistic theory rests.

8.4 DISCUSSION From the range of social interactions examined in the biblical stories, the comparison with Bernstein’s theory of codes has shown that characters in the Bible have different access to the meanings produced by God’s regulative discourse. Furthermore, even when the context of divine transmission is directed to all the people of Israel on Mount Sinai, the sense of identity and the positioning of the subjects who are involved in that event are not the same. Before God, Moses held a different position compared to the children of Israel, who also attached a different value to the divine presence on Mount Sinai. Thus, is it legitimate to ask: what is the specificity of the biblical regulative principle of God’s pedagogical message and what type of consciousness does it try to raise? The different ways in which God speaks to the people of Israel reveals that, in Bernstein’s terms, there exists a division of labor within their society, with different modes of socialization among individuals. The biblical text shows that God’s regulative discourse, when addressed to the prophets, is based on a qualitative exchange leading to a higher level of mental activity, also characterized by understanding and concern for others. The motivations and effects of participants are rendered unique and are usually quite explicit. When prophets encounter the Divine, power and control are masked by the reciprocity of the messages produced between God and them. This occurs through a type of dialogue where each speaker acquires a higher level of knowledge, accompanied by the appropriate restraints on their behavior and leading to a deep transformation. This is achieved by the presentation of the “selves” based on mutual trust, allowing for mutual influences and reciprocal changes. In biblical language, the inner transformation of the prophets is symbolized by the change of their names: Abram becomes Abraham, Sarai becomes Sarah, while Jacob, after his struggle with Divinity, becomes Israel. Jacob takes

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the name Israel after struggling with God in an attempt to discover his attacker’s name and, thus, is bestowed with a blessing. God also undergoes a transformation due to their argument. Therefore, through dialogue each party acquires a higher level of knowledge, accompanied by a range of appropriate restraints over their behavior. This can be interpreted as care for the welfare of others by virtue of understanding each others’ points of view. The specific ability of the prophets to master the relationship with God mediated through the spoken word was based on their mental ability to interact with Divinity. Their state of consciousness allowed them to be raised above the masses, due to their spiritual awareness; their competence made them more open to understanding the abstract principles, motives, and values to be attained, not only in the “here and now” but also in future generations. The content of their message, transmitted through a universal ethical language, was not only relevant to them, but for all Jews of future generations, and eventually for all mankind. The prophets are willing to accept their mission critically, studying it carefully and analyzing it through objective logical grounds. This competence fostered an awareness of their roles, acquired through understanding the parameters required to deal efficiently with the situation in which they found themselves. By maintaining their role through language and understanding, the prophets knew what the quality of their communication had to be; by virtue of this they were able to spread the divine message. However, recognition of their social roles did not obscure or overshadow their personal characteristics, which at times led to modifying or changing some of the parameters of a given situation. This happened with both Moses and Abraham, during their respective and contingent dialogic exchanges with God. In this case, cultural transmission is achieved through mediation of speech in which the speakers are fully aware of their goals and able to fully understand their actions, based on voluntary attention and active participation. For the patriarchs and prophets, self-consciousness emerged thanks to the “self-other” dialectic. In this respect they developed an individualized consciousness, linked to self-awareness but also to their ability to acknowledge the presence of the “other.” Consequently, they created the parameters for the transmission of principles of a high culture by becoming leaders of their community and spreading the word of God.

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Thus the system of speech defined by Bernstein as elaborated code can be identified in God’s direct transmission to the prophets. They represented a small specialized elite from a dominant class capable of acting as interpreters and transmitters of the divine moral order. Their role originated from a clear division of labor representing an organic solidarity. They were primarily speakers who became the leaders of great reforms; in fact, in ancient Judaism, the prayer of the prophets was believed to carry special powers of mediation with God (Rofè 2011: 346), and they had the role of officiating over the cult in the Temple, alongside the priests. In the eighth century, prophets of Israel— Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, Michah, and Jeremiah—insisted that outward displays of worship were of no value (Milley 1959: 29) and they often spoke out against external rituals and sacrifices. For Bernstein, this mode of transmission results from a type of communication defined as vertical discourse, leading to an educated knowledge—verbally elaborated and integrated by organic solidarity. This is an individual form based on the inner regulation of the “self ” and referring to the idea of readiness, or the developmental stage reached by the subject, understood by his/ her behavior patterns. The style of the pedagogical transmission identified in the event of receiving the Law on Mount Sinai is quite different. This appears to be a highly ritualized exchange based on power and control over the Israelites, demanding immediate acceptance with no leeway to alter the conditions of this ritualized form of communication. In addition, the Law required material acts of doing— the mitzvoth—to be performed in everyday situations in order to be internalized and reflected upon. The process of learning in order to “to walk on the path of God” is transmitted to the community of Israel using an imperative mode aiming at creating ritualized and unconscious mental habits. This message is transmitted through ordinances which cannot be questioned or refused, as they are closely linked to the specificity of the Israelites and their special relationship with God. This two-stage mediation process can clearly be understood when the people of Israel on Mount Sinai declared: “All that the Lord hath spoken will we do, and obey” (Exodus 24:7). Here, cultural transmission occurred thanks to the unity of the group, where conscious awareness is not required but achieved through collective doing. Reflection arose only after performing the actions,

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which then acquired meaning. This may be perceived as unconscious invisible mediation as defined by Hasan (2005), aimed at instilling routine and unconscious mental habits so that the participants do not perceive the final goal of what is being mediated, but only the action to be performed as an everyday practice. In this way, a communilized consciousness is achieved, whereby God’s precepts and moral order are transmitted as pre-categorized norms, not to be argued with, but accepted through authority and communally shared beliefs. In fact, it is through the observance of the mitzvoth that the community of Israel can achieve holiness in the image of God and, in so doing, reduce the distance between them and the sacred dimension. In this vein, bodily actions and forms of behavior mediate between the exterior and the interior, allowing all of the Israelites to acquire holiness, transmitted verbally using the imperative mood. Thus, in Judaism, cognition is not independent of material experience, for different channels of transmission are used to imbue the specificity of the Hebrew culture, which envisages all vehicles for achieving continuity. Awareness of this collective relationship enters into individual lives in a mediated manner, through individual ritualized religious acts performed within the family, in everyday situations, to be transmitted to future generations. Finally, in the Pentateuch and particularly in Leviticus, laws and precepts are oriented to establish mechanic solidarity among members of the community and, at the same time, to reinforce their social ties by means of control based on punitive actions. Bernstein’s two codes, applied to biblical passages, have highlighted the dual nature of biblical dialogue, underlining the socio-cultural differences among individuals in their relation to God. In the biblical tradition there are clear examples of the use of the two codes, cyclical and repeated in many passages of the texts. The use of elaborated and restricted codes in biblical narrative uncovers, respectively, the dual aspects of the Jewish ethic, based on the principle of differentiation between Israel and the rest of the world. Thus, similar to localized meanings of restricted code which bond particular people in terms of their moral behavior as members in a particular context—a bound family—Judaism can be seen as a particular creed, with a context-based approach proclaiming the diversity of the Jewish people set apart to fulfill their moral particularity. However, at the same time, similar to the elaborated code, the Jewish faith does

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not exclude the universality of its message to all mankind, and these universal meanings are conveyed by prophets and patriarchs to all.

8.5  HISTORICAL ANTECEDENTS OF BERNSTEIN’S CODES IN THE JEWISH TRADITION The above discussion, in the light of our inquiry, raises the following question: to what extent can we claim that Bernstein uses biblical sources to examine the issue of meanings? This may then give rise to another question: to what extent can we force our own reading of Bernstein upon biblical texts and project our own meanings on its discourse? Indeed, all interpretation is the result of a subjective effort to understand a text, an effort that might well omit or overlook much that is in that actual text. Being fully aware of these dangers, we wish to seek further evidence based on more objective socio-historical grounds in the attempt to link the idea of Bernstein’s two codes to the deeper roots of the Jewish tradition. In this attempt, we will briefly refer to areas of Judaism that may have had some influence over Bernstein’s ideas. One aspect of Bernstein’s thinking which cannot be ignored is his emphasis on the principle of human differentiation, linked to the idea that modes of discourse reflect different experiences of realities mediated by social relations. When Bernstein deals with language, he does so by emphasizing how different linguistic usages generate differentiated meanings according to the speaker’s social status. This perspective is not only consistent with Bernstein’s sociolinguistic approach, it is also a concept deeply rooted in Judaism, where the idea of different modes of communication and the use of different languages is to be found in many aspects of its tradition.9

9 This belief is also put forward in the Talmud in the commentary to the revelation on Mount Sinai: it is stated that Moses was instructed in all seventy aspects of the seventy languages of the world (Othiyoth de-Rabbi Akiba, ed. Wertheimer [ Jerusalem, 1924], 12) and that every commandment delivered on Mount Sinai could be heard in all seventy languages (Shabbat 88b). Therefore, meaning varies according to the different people who receive it and interpret it on the basis of each one’s personal state and perspective. However, meaning is also intrinsically linked to words as such. This idea is present in a midrash (Numbers Rabbah) where Abrahm ibn Ezra, a twelfth-century Bible commentator, claimed that every word and

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The principle of relativization, according to which language and meaning vary in relation to different human conditions leading to different readings of the Torah, suggests that the understanding of the latter is filtered through the socio-cultural and historical matrix of the readers. Diversity of speech and its interpretation are firstly expressed in connection with biblical exegesis and with understanding the divine words of the Torah. In this sense, the history of Judaism displays two classical attitudes toward the sacred texts: the rabbinical exegetic tradition, which seeks to explain its meaning through logical argumentation, and the mystical one, which attributes symbolic and metaphorical meaning to the holy scriptures. These are different interpretations of the Torah that represent two distinct literary genres—that of the midrashim, poetic and metaphorical, easily understood by ordinary people, and that of rabbinical exegesis, argumentative and logical, elaborated by scholars and rabbis. These two main traditions of interpretation complement each other, and are functionally related in order to achieve a better and fuller understanding of the Torah (Boyarin 1994).10 While the biblical narrative is gapped and dialogical, the role of the midrash fulfilled the function of filling the gaps (ibid.). In particular, Midrashic literature is conceived as inter-textuality, as it establishes dialects within interpretation. The relationship between midrash and the Bible provides a model link not only between text and interpretation, but also between the present and the past. By distinguishing between two types of literal meanings in the Bible, Judaism enforced teaching at all levels, to be carried out by all kinds of people. This was achieved by separating the allegorical and metaphorical from the philosophical and rational interpretation. In this way, the Jewish tradition created two distinct codes, generating two different forms of knowledge, one based on everyday practices and the other every letter have seventy aspects. This idea stemmed from the belief that seventy was the traditional number of the nations inhabiting the world. 10 The tradition of interpreting the Torah originated from the Babylonian exiles, a network of Judean colonies beyond the borders of ancient Palestine. This was the first Jewish Diaspora, requiring the Israelites to preserve their moral outlook against the contamination of the polytheistic creeds of others. The religious organization of these communities underwent many changes due to new circumstances. Under the influence of the prophetic legacy, Ezra and Nehemiah were given the task of creating a discipline to prevent the disappearance of the Israelite values and ethic. To do this, they established religious assemblies on the Shabbat to pray, to read and interpret the weekly Torah text.

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stemming from scholarly instruction. The concept of different levels of learning and understanding was based on the mystical idea that each individual soul has its own unique way of understanding the Torah, implying different levels of spiritual awareness (Cordovero 1549). In this view, each individual soul relates to the Torah according to its specific understanding of it. The two basic exegetic traditions in Judaism were historically personified by two distinct scholars: Maimonides, a Jewish philosopher of the Aristotle school, who tried to combine religious meaning with rational explanation, and Gershom Scholem as the modern interpreter of the symbolism of the Midrash and mystical tradition. Maimonides holds a place in Jewish literary history similar to that of Aristotle in European literary discourse. He set himself the goal of finding a rationale for all types of Jewish commandments, claiming that that Bible has always had an educational purpose. In his book The Guide for the Perplexed (1190), he stated: Every narrative in the Law serves a certain purpose in connection with religious thinking. It either helps to establish a principle of faith, or to regulate our actions, and to prevent wrong and promote justice among men. (Maimonides [1190] 1956: 381)

Maimionides tried to provide reasons for the divine commandments, even those whose purpose defied rational explanation. He was very critical of those Jews who believed that the rational explanation of the biblical precepts could undermine their religious significance. He claimed, instead, that irrationality is not a part of the divine intention and that one needs to recover the original knowledge of the biblical law which had been lost due to a lack of knowledge of the historical and sociocultural context in which it was created. Maimonides believed that God, in creating Adam in his own image, did not endow him with any supernatural powers, but rather with the faculty to reason—the characteristic that distinguishes human beings from all other animals (Guide i:i). Thus, the divine element in human nature is universal and belongs to Jews and non-Jews alike. Maimonides (Guide 3: 25-51) summarized the whole corpus of biblical law in terms of three main objectives: eliminating injustice, building moral character, and teaching correct opinions (Hartman 2000: 56). In particular, he redefined the ancient dichotomy between huqqim

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and mishpatim by claiming that huqqim, norms whose meanings are unknown to man, were not irrational laws. This idea had resulted from a lack of human knowledge regarding these words’ original meaning, for which the reasons had once been evident but had been lost over time due to ignorance. For Maimonides, the cornerstone of his idea needs to be sought in the biblical text: See, I have imparted to you laws and rules, as the Lord my God commanded me, for you to abide by in the land which you are about to invade and occupy. Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say: “Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people.” (Deuteronomy 4:5-6)

Maimonides’ philosophy perceived Judaism as a universal discourse whose meanings may be recognized by all nations, sharing a common rational universe of ethical discourse. They are based on rational explanations arising from universal principles and beliefs (Hartman 2000: 58). We can argue that Maimonides’ legacy cannot but be relevant to Bernstein’s theorization of the elaborated code. The similarity between Maimonides’ ideas and the features of Bernstein’s elaborated code is remarkable, and can be found in their common principles emphasizing rational knowledge, logicality, and argumentation, leading to universal meanings and abstract principles. Furthermore, Maimonides himself differentiated rational stylistic exegesis from Midrash, which is the elaboration of Jewish mysticism. This was defined by Maimonides as a type of poetry, a form of didactic fiction that creates new discourse. Very often Midrashic narratives were conveyed orally, in a style typified by short sentences, unqualified noun phrases and redundancy, all features that we can say resemble the restricted code. Bernstein himself compared the restricted code to a form of poetry, as he attempted to compose poems with sentences uttered by working class pupils (Hymes 1995). These considerations point out that the Midrashic tradition is not, like biblical exegesis, based on the idea of communicable meaning. It is more of a quest seeking the sacred world of the godhead equated to the world of language, which unfolds according to a law of its own, and which cannot be fully translated into human language. Hence, the conception of the unlimited plasticity of the divine word and its meaning.

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According to Israel Baal-Shem, the founder of the Hasidic movement in Poland and Russia (Ge’ullat Ysrael, Ostrog [1821], id-2a), the letters of the Torah from Genesis to Deuteronomy, were not combined into proper sentences. He believed that initially the Torah was created as an “incoherent jumble of letters,” in Hebrew be-tha’arobotbh’othiyoth (Scholem 1996: 76, footnote). Only when a certain event occurred in the world were the letters combined to recount the event to which the words were related. Furthermore, in Judaism, words acquire meanings within the context of an action, given that in the Torah actions and words are one and the same thing. As word meaning occurred only when a certain event took place in the world, the letters formed the words which recounted these events. If another event occurred in its place, another combination of letters would have been used, to reveal that the holy Torah is God’s infinite wisdom. In the Jewish tradition, it appears that social conditions are an explanatory concept in exploring variations of speech, as extra-linguistic factors correlate with different semantics. These beliefs are fully in accordance with the contextual approach in linguistics; Bernstein considers meanings to arise in the social context of living, diversified according to social situations. In concluding this section, we could put forward the hypothesis that the Jewish historical tradition has promoted a vision through some of its scholars, encouraging a cultural semantic which treats language as a humanly differentiated ability to produce pluralistic meanings. These meanings are not inherent in single dislocated elements of language, such as letters or words, but assume significance through the actions of human beings in their particular contexts. Bernstein pursued a parallel path to that of some of the most important trends in Jewish tradition by relating language to social life, and by describing the formation of consciousness as a result of a set of semiotic relationships where individuals and their life experiences intersect.

8.6  CONCLUDING REMARKS In this chapter, we have attempted to provide evidence for our initial hypothesis concerning the possible existence of an unrevealed, implicit, or unconscious influence of Judaism in shaping Bernstein’s thinking. To support our claim, we have chosen Bernstein’s concept of sociolinguistic

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codes, restricted and elaborated, and compared them to similar linguistic features to be found in the biblical text and in the traditions relevant to Judaism. Our effort has led us onto different paths and in different directions. As far as textual meanings are concerned, Bernstein’s sociolinguistic codes have been compared to some of the speech variations found in biblical narrative referring, in particular to God’s discourse with human beings. On a cultural historical level, Bernstein’s two codes have been related to traditional rabbinical and Midrashic exegesis, represented, respectively, by major scholars such as Maimonides and Scholem. In making this comparison, we have come across some important links between Bernstein’s restricted and elaborated codes, and verbal stylistic variations found in selected passages in biblical narrative, interpreted according to different Jewish exegetic traditions. Such findings surely deserve more than one simple explanation. This study, in light of our search for Bernstein’s Jewish roots, gives rise to the following question: to what extent can we claim that Bernstein uses biblical sources to compare his question on meanings? And furthermore: to what extent can we attribute our findings to an essential Jewishness of Bernstein? This would certainly clash with his totally absent essentialist claims of devotion to Judaism, even though he never denied his Jewish origins. But neither was he a kind of modern marrano, a secret Jew converted to another religion. We believe that one should seek out Bernstein’s Jewishness from a socio-historical point of view, and that in particular his work should be re-contextualized within Judaism’s discourse and its historical framework. Here we propose to consider two main points in favor of our initial hypothesis on Bernstein’s Jewishness: the first to be found in his work, the second in his way of being. Firstly, with his polar ideal types of codes, Bernstein suggests a set of universal dimensions that can be applied in different situations, groups, and communities (Hymes 1974: 39). In fact, Bernstein’s taxonomy, initially referring to ways of speaking of individuals as well as to different social groups of speakers, can also be extended to different types of societies. However, the specific features of the theory of codes, based on polar linguistic dichotomies, are not automatically applicable to every community, as language use depends

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on the socio-cultural and historical circumstances in which individuals and societies find themselves at a particular moment in time. What is remarkable here is the presence of a strong parallelism between Bernstein’s codes and the dialogic meanings expressed by characters of ancient biblical society, whose circumstances and ways of speaking are rather remote from those to be found in modern societies. A possible explanation for this coincidence is to be found in the Jewish mode of cultural transmission. A conception of narrative meanings is not lost when a tradition such as the Jewish one mediates them individually and collectively through ways of saying, doing, and behaving. Thus, the “core” meanings of Judaism, typified in biblical precepts and stories, are understood, internalized, and reproduced by members of the Jewish community, firstly through oral and material practices, transmitted both consciously and unconsciously. The reading of the Bible has always been very important in Jewish education and cultural transmission. In particular, the latter, unlike other traditions, is basically transmitted through texts (oral and written) as the Jewish people are united on the basis of the same text-line. This means that they are a people not because they think and speak in a certain manner, but rather because their faith and their sense of “peoplehood” have made them read in certain ways.11 As this situation represents the cultural reality of all Jews, Diasporic and not, it is very likely that Bernstein was exposed to biblical sources, as he was familiar with images taken from biblical stories and with biblical precepts and prescriptions. Therefore, understanding Bernstein’s discourse also involves knowing the type of cultural discourse in which he was historically located. In the course of his primary socialization, it is likely that Bernstein had internalized the main aspects of his early Jewish experience, which, later on in his life, remerged in a more secular form. In particular, Bernstein’s deep knowledge of Judaic principles suggests that he must have been exposed to Jewish liturgy and been acquainted with its deeper meanings (Bernstein 1996). Liturgical acts in Judaism are complex codes that involve multi-layered meanings to be performed systematically within a shared community framework. For instance, on Sabbath, the reading in the synagogue service of the 11 This is the thesis of Amoz Oz and his daughter Fania Oz-Salzberger presented in their joint book Jews and Words (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012).

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biblical passages, often commented at the end of the ritual, provides inspiration even if the congregation is not allowed to participate. On this occasion, both the elaborated and the restricted codes are performed by the rabbi—the first referring to the explicit speech on the section of the Bible to be read that day, the second represented by the ritual of prayer itself. The members of the congregation are motivated to read the Bible when they return home, as the synagogue is a house of study, a beit midrash. Similarly, the same model is enacted at home for Jewish festivals such as during the Seder of Passover, repeated every year in the same way. Thus, in Judaism, the representation of the biblical universe is essentially linguistic and semantic. Words and their meanings are orally dictated by God, intepreted and written down by Moses, and read, studied, and reflected on by the Jews through the centuries. Therefore, socio-historically, the possibility of finding knowledge and meaning within the Jewish tradition lies in the complete processes of language. What is even more important is that the building of a Jewish consciousness rests on a semiotic process depending on the mediation of meanings through material and symbolic tools, of which language is the most important. These are primordial themes which are expressed prototypically in the Biblical texts and their narrated stories. However, even if Bernstein’s upbringing in the Jewish culture may provide with some good reasons to assume his early exposure to biblical meanings and their stories, this is not enough to explain his intentions in using or paralleling biblical dialogues with his speech codes. We do not know if Bernstein, in his theorizing, was guided by his sense of belonging and by his religious or secular Jewish roots. Moreover, it could also be argued that Jewishness, like any other socio-cultural form, can be altered and transformed with the passing of time, and can also be eventually lost if it is not cultivated to allow for a sense of group continuity. In response to this, we wish to illustrate our second point in affirming Bernstein’s Jewishness. Like any other culture, Judaism can become an identity marker when its original imprinting is maximized (or minimized) by social circumstances, by the number of an individual’s cultural, social, and political affiliations in his/her socio-historical context. Bernstein, in his early years of life, as well as in the early stages of his work, was certainly conversant with the Jewish environment and with the relevant problems in England. However, it

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was precisely the condition of being in the Diaspora in Europe that brought many Jews after the emancipation to refer to Jewish matters as to those that “we only speak of among ourselves,” as Freud once mentioned when commenting on George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda (Bakan 1969: 311). On this specific issue, Bernstein’s lack of reference to Jewish influences in his work appears to be quite relevant and highly significant, as this is a condition also shared by other Jews. Freud, when asked what he had retained of Jewishness, replied that he had never repudiated his people, and that he was in his essential nature a Jew, and had no desire to alter that nature (Frosh 2003). In another context when asked how he could define his Jewishness, Freud replied that for him Jewishness was something “miraculous,” something “inaccessible to analysis” (Szasz 1978: 144), clearly stating his difficulties in defining his original condition. Certainly such socio-cultural and socio-historical positions can also be attributed to Bernstein. So, rather than claiming tout court a Jewish “essence” echoing in Bernstein’s theory and marking his personal identity, perhaps it would be more appropriate to maintain that significant parts of his Jewish culture had remained active and alive, not in isolation but in an open dialogue with the chain of affinities he had established in developing and refining his work. In line with the principle that the mind is often organized into “systems of affinity” (Curtius 1963: 317), Bernstein’s Jewishness may be found dialectically, mediated in his childhood by his own biblical reading and, in his adulthood, by the influences he acknowledged during his academic life. As a matter of fact, Bernstein’s concepts were particularly inspired by the thinking and work of people such as Vygotsky, Luria, Sapir, Durkheim, and Mead. The first four were Jewish, and even though the latter was not, he also inspired the work of Vygotsky, most likely because of his emphasis on the dialectic with “the other,” a dimension strongly emphasized in Judaism. This explanation opens the door to another aspect we wish to raise regarding the similarities between Judaism and Bernstein’s discourse, taking a similar path but looking at it from a linguistic perspective. Mikhail Bakhtin has revealed that all discourses have a social, interactional and dialogical nature (Todorov 1984). This implies that no texts are fully organic self-contained units, created out of the spontaneous act of the free will of a self-identical subject, but rather that all texts are ultimately

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dialogical, as they record the traces of contention and doubling of earlier discourse. This also implies that every author embodies all the discourses which he/she has heard or ever read. This idea is particularly relevant where Bernstein is concerned, as he was born and brought up in a Jewish family, even though he turned to secularism in adulthood. Thus, Bernstein’s intertextuality with meaning narrated in the Bible can be traced back to his own inter-textuality, his life and socio-cultural background. We may say that in his approach to society, Bernstein was more concerned with envisaging the possibilities of change in society rather than those linked to reproduction. In this way he was a theorist of “interruption” as Moore defined him (Moore 2013: 379). In this respect it seems that he also paralleled his life to his own concept, as the pursuing of his sociological endaviors offered him a way of escaping his traditional background. At the same time, he retained the basic features of his deep identity. In many of Bernstein’s academic writings (Bernstein 1971; 1996), there is a strong personal tone, suggesting a crossing over between his work and aspects of his life. It is as if he is addressing ordinary people and not his academic readers. By rethinking these relations in the light of the features of his discourse, perhaps we could propose that Bernstein’s strong opposition to standardizing aspects of speech and language pushed him to emphasize the diversity of meanings. This could be due to the fact that he himself experienced this diversity, being a Jewish boy growing up in the dominant culture of his host country. In this respect, Bernstein’s lifelong adherence to two distinct cultural contexts made him conversant with different spheres of experience—the code of intimacy, restricted, and that of academia, elaborated. This condition must have made him particularly sensitive to multiple paradigms of social reality. In addition, in his background there were the ever-present textual variations of Jewish sources and traditions, characterized by the fundamental difference in meanings based on the dualism of moral ethic (good and bad), ritual and exegetic interpretation, and styles of dialogic exchanges between God and man (the prophets and the community of Israel). Therefore, while Bernstein’s position is not one of a “God filled universe,” it could be claimed that his way of thinking is a secularized form of Humanistic Judaism. In fact, he displays particularly Jewish characteristics in his particular

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sensitivity to the social dimension, symbolism, ritual, and moral order. Last but not least, he provided reasons for the limited nature of the human condition, thus pointing out the uncertain nature of our material lives. By exploring the complexity of the human consciousness, which, as in the Bible, lies primarily in speech and language, Bernstein tackles some of the universal Jewish themes expressed prototypically in the biblical text, that of human responsibility for others and for the entire society. These themes are mainly concerned with problems of human discrimination and alienation, and the desire for a fairer society, which, as in the case of the Bible, are represented by moral precepts and commandments to be followed by the community of Israel. Bernstein shows a remarkable ability to describe “authentic existences,” by representing stories of everyday life coloured by speech based on domestic realism and issues of injustice and discrimination. Bernstein’s reality, rooted in epistemology, reveals the invisible layers beneath the surface and is often coupled with a pessimistic view of human existence. This is a shift from a truthbased epistemology and more in keeping with the nature of a Jewish character, which is not an ideal or idealized person but a prototype of human imperfection. Stories take place in a domestic or everyday situation although, at the same time, they reveal the sublime, the tragic and the problematic (Auerbach [1946] 1953: 2). In presentations of this kind, in the Bible and for Bernstein, we find the preservation of history and the Jewish prophets as the personification of something else rooted in history. Bernstein’s speakers also portray their histories, their culture, and their place within society through their acts of speech. What initially appeared comparable between biblical and Bernstein’s discourse, because of their excess textual discontinuity, is gradually uncovered, through an in-depth analysis of their inner meanings, revealing a semantic affinity between the two discourses. We believe that these are the meanings which may have been filtered through Bernstein’s theoretical text, subject to further modification in the process. In conclusion, if we cannot prove that there is a direct influence of Judaism on Bernstein’s thinking—as from the start the question was posed in terms of strong affinities between the two discourses—we can, instead, claim that there certainly exist evident traces of a strong leaning towards Judaism in Bernstein’s progressive development and intellectual needs.

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Therefore, we hope that our discussion may have contributed to a better understanding of Bernstein as an academic as well as a human being, seen in the light of his cultural background. If it is true that “no single avenue of approach is the only avenue of approach to Bernstein’s work,” as stated by Hasan, as his “work spread over a wide canvas” (Hasan 2005: 33), similarly, no reading of the Torah can be used as the only way of interpreting its meaning. As both discourses are widely open to multiple interpretations, it can also be claimed that beneath Bernstein’s “wide canvas,” we can find a fabric revealing a similar shape for the Jewish principles of the Torah.

CHAPTER 9

Epilogue Antonella Castelnuovo, Bella Kotik-Friedgut

H

aving completed our excursus based on the search for Vygotsky and Bernstein’s Jewish roots, we are in a position to draw some considered conclusions. These are meant to provide the basic answers to our initial, general research inquiry—the influence of Judaism on the work of the two authors— as well as to clarify the more specific aspects of creative work common to both. We believe that the data, both personal and regarding their theories, that we have analyzed provided the grounds to claim that our two authors retained strong ties with their Jewish heritage. The influence of their roots manifested itself through the general themes of their work, as well as the way in which particular aspects of their theories were expressed and conceptualized. In this respect, human development, language, and education, the central focus of their research interests, were tackled from a specific perspective typical of Jewish tradition. In demonstrating that Judaism had a deep influence on the work of Vygotsky and Bernstein, we have been able to reach a better understanding of their complementary vision of the dialectic between the individual and the collective. Each of them dedicated a major focus of attention to one aspect of man and society. While Vygotsky dealt with human-specific development, achieved through acquisition of language and man-created tools for development of higher mental functions in historically specific social-cultural contexts,

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Bernstein engaged with the process of transmission of social values through language, pedagogy, and society. They both did so, as we have shown in our discussion, with Jewish ethics and basic principles of Judaism as a contributing influence. One of the main aspects of Judaism, a unitary systemic creed, is that it links every part of its narrative in an integrated whole. Judaism bases itself upon value concepts which present unity within diversity. In this way, every single aspect of the individual’s life, as well as precepts and commandments, are integrated into the whole, as completeness is the ultimate accomplishment of this faith. The theories of Vygotsky and Bernstein, following systemic laws, combine to provide the complete and integrated picture of man and society. So, it is through Bernstein’s scrupulous and articulated analysis of the particular position of subjects in society that one can achieve a better understanding of Vygotsky’s dual classification of concept formation, leading to the diversification of mental activity into everyday and scientific concepts. Vygotsky tried to build a new theory of human development, in which social environment plays a crucial role in cognitive development of the child. He emphasized that in real life a child gets knowledge from active exploration of the world, but he is not alone in this journey. Adults guide and help, especially when it comes to scientific concepts. Bernstein’s theory, adding specificity to the understanding of different levels of communication (restricted and elaborated codes), complement the picture of human communication. Bernstein concentrated on the mechanism of transmission of social norms and values via language codes of different levels of elaboration. A central element of his inquiry was the need to reveal how and why the creation, distribution, and transmission of physical and symbolic values take substantially different directions in modern and progressive societies. In this awareness he proposed a critical examination of the most essential aspects of social existence. He did so mainly by describing linguistic codes which are fundamental regulators of both meanings and behavior. Bernstein’s analysis, grounded more in semantic than linguistic forms, allows us to understand that language is differently mediated to speakers as subjects of a particular type of social structure. By revealing that mediation of culture does not occur solely through direct experience with social phenomena but also through words and social relations, Bernstein’s claims are in tune with those of Vygotsky. They both reveal the deep

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connection between learning as a process of communication, and the wider system of society, made of structures, relationships, and dialectic synergies between the two. It is their different perspective which lends depth to their analysis, precisely as a binocular view provides depth in the field of vision. Their complementarities stems from common ground since they related to a common discourse, although seen from a different perspective. So, while Vygotsky highlighted the universal process of mediation, revealing the dialectic between language and mind, Bernstein specified that this process is socially diversified from early childhood. In so doing he stated the principle of origin for different orders of knowledge, stemming from social differentiation and discrimination against certain members of society. The presence of Jewish roots in the work of our two authors must also be considered from the environmental conditions in which they lived as Diaspora Jews. The distinction between Judaism and Jewishness allows us to depict the many aspects of Judaism in its diversity, but also enables the definition of its basic unifying principle. Defining Jewish identity in the context of the Diaspora implies the acknowledgement of various and often antithetical elements in the lives of Jews in Europe. In fact, “Jewish identity presents itself in its variations as an undetermined specificity,” to quote Levi della Torre’s view on this matter (1994: 33). Besides, historically, it is the conditions of Diaspora life that gave rise to secular manifestation of Jewish identities. Hence, the socio-historical situation is a factor that obviously differentiated the lives of Vygotsky and Bernstein. Cultural and historical understanding of Jewish identity came to Vygotsky “naturally,” being well mediated from his family upbringing. He grew up within a Jewish environment, which provided him with a well-formed Jewish identity, cultural, historical, and secular, rather than religious or national, interwoven with a broad classical education, which provided him with an open, universalistic vision of mankind. For this reason they found natural expression in his life and in his scientific work as a constituent element of his universal humanism. Vygotsky, with all his evident relation to Judaism and deep emotional attitude in contemplating the fate of the Jewish people, was seeking harmony and universalism. He subsumed the category “Jewish” under that of “human” or “universal.” For him, as we noted earlier, national uniqueness was worthy of

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preservation as an enriching contribution to the general culture of humanity. In his book Pedagogical Psychology, he writes: National forms of development present us with an undisputable and mighty historical fact. However, it is important that we avoid a fundamental error. An excessive cult of folkism, intensifying the national element in human behavior, cultivates nationalism in pupils rather than national consciousness. A national coloration of human behavior, like any cultural achievement, may be regarded as a supreme human value, but only when it does not become a cage, limiting the individual, like a snail in its shell, shut off from all external influences…. Being true to one’s people is being true to one’s own individuality and that is the only normal and honest way to live. (Vygotsky 1926/1999: 244-45)

However, he lived in a time of turmoil. He experienced the restrictions and later abolition of the Pale of Settlement and hopes for Jews in Russia, and at the same time pogroms, fear, and uncertainty. As the investigation of archives reveals, he suffered a deep personal crisis after graduating from university in 1917. This occurred at the time of the revolutionary turmoil in Russia, before he could start his creative work that resulted in the cultural-historical theory of human development. His crisis was related to his Jewish identity and anxiety about the fate of the Jewish people, and he himself attests that such experiences, “perezhyvaniya,”1 are a fertile soil for creative work. Perhaps it is not simply a coincidence that his professional debut at the Psychophysiological Congress in Leningrad in 1924 was based on analysis of crises in psychology. When his ideas were re-discovered in the 1960s after the translation of Language and Thought, when psychological science was still trying to find its way to the analysis of human-specific development and activity, they were no less important. Vygotsky tried to be a true Marxist, but his independence of thought, as exemplified by the note found recently in one of his notebooks—“Enliven Marxism with Spinozisms”—brought upon him the suspicions of the Communist Party bureaucracy, much to Vygotsky’s distress. As he confided to a colleague: “I want to die. They don’t consider me a sincere Marxist.” Once again Vygotsky found himself an “outsider,” but this time it was not because of his Jewishness, for this was at the height of the Soviet policy of 1

Because of complex semantics, the term is used in discussions about Russian psychology.

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korenizatsiia, the attempt to create an indigenous Soviet leadership among all the national minorities, through education and culture in the national languages. Rather, it was Vygotsky’s independent heterodoxy and openness of mind that evoked the suspicions of the bureaucrats. However, these were the very qualities that he had drawn from his study of Jewish history and tradition, from Bar Kochba and Spinoza as freethinking seekers of truth and challengers of established authority. Bernstein’s youth coincided with the tragedy of the Holocaust. His scientific activity started at the time when, in Europe, especially among intellectuals, religion was generally regarded as being old-fashioned and nationalism was seen as anti-democratic. The recent persecutions reminded Jews of their uniqueness among the nations, increasing their attention to the question of Jewishness. However, no common denominator was discovered to unite their response. Besides, the establishment and development of the state of Israel provided a new answer to the need of preserving Jewish collective identity in a national homeland. Despite this diversification of answers to the “Jewish question” for those who embraced modernism and secularization, the choice was that expressed by the German Jews during the Enlightment: “Be a Jew at home and a man abroad.” Secularization, in fact, implies that religion, in whatever form, should be relegated to a private sphere of existence. This seems to be Bernstein’s position. He was raised as a Jew, he raised himself a Jewish family, traditionally observing the Sabbath and other festivities, but was mainly engaged on the battlefields arising from the problems of contemporary society at large. Both Vygotsky and Bernstein belonged “elsewhere,” a complex condition which has been defined by Jankélévitch as a sign of a double identity. Vygotsky and Bernstein retained their inner essence, expressed through their need to be different. Thus they both refused to respond to the need of the majority, but the price for this position was persecution and marginalization in Vygotsky’s case, political accusations, and posthumous suppression of his work. As for Bernstein, it was bitter and personal criticism of his theory. If hostility against them cannot be conceived as stemming directly from antisemitism, the unwillingness to conform to values of the majority, when deemed unjust, is certainly a way to pay tribute to values of Judaism. The Jewish tradition developed in the period of Galut, the exile, in disper-

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sion and subordination to other people. From this it takes as its origin the elaboration of the perspective of a minority group, often expressed in terms of hope and protest against discrimination and totalitarian regimes. Both Vygotsky and Bernstein searched for truth, emèt, irrespective of consequences: Vygotsky by refusing to claim the existence of a strictly Marxist psychology, Bernstein by strongly opposing a romantic vision of the working class, denouncing the social disadvantages due to dissonance with dominant values of society. Despite living in different times and places, they both responded to an urge to bring to light the problems that impeded the building of a better society. They were integral human beings with no split between heart and intellect, just as preached within Judaism. They entered into a relationship with a spiritual yearning, transposed into their scientific work. This moral attitude can be defined as a diffuse sense of religiosity. The autonomy of their moral judgments can be inferred from the tenets of Judaism, based on the character of its discourse, which forbids the acceptance of idols, equivalent in modern terms to dogmatic ideologies. Paradoxically, both Vygotsky and Bernstein were preaching a value which is at the basis of Judaism: that of being an expression “at the service of God”—though neither of them would have put it in such terms—implying no other ultimate aims of punishment or reward. This deep common aspect lies at the basis of the conflict between our two scientists and their opponents. Standing apart because of a diversity of thinking has often represented the leading motive for social discrimination and persecution throughout history. The debt they owed to Judaism as the unifying principle of their cultural heritage is to be found not only in their behavior but also and foremost in their scientific methodologies. In fact, their roots in Judaism went far beyond the conscious level, playing a significant role in the way in which Vygotsky and Bernstein approached their scientific endeavors. They each rested their basic concepts on the idea that social relationships constitute the fabric of society, whose features are not given fact, but unfold dynamically in the future as a potential response to others. Vygotsky’s idea of education is conceived as an open, ongoing potential process, which progressively unfolds as a result of the establishment of a social relationship between an adult or more experienced peer (teacher/instructor) and a child

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(learner/acquirer), represents a clear example of his vision of cultural transmission. Similarly, in Bernstein’s work, social relationships are the key to understanding the micro and macro aspects of society. These characteristics find a parallel with the Jewish mode of thinking. Sergio Quinzio pointed out that Jews express themselves through relationships, structures, and synergies, as opposed to ancient Greeks, who do so through concepts, images, and entities (quoted in Levi della Torre 1994: 30). In particular, both Bernstein and Vygotsky conceived the role of speech as a fundamental part in the shaping of consciousness. In both of their theories, the mediatory role of language is linked to learning, cognition, and cultural transmission through a social dialectic based on interaction between people. They dealt with the invisible and most abstract aspects of human behavior. They gave priority to the exploration of face to face interaction with spoken words in bridging relationships and identities much more than to written form. This attitude, bridged only by means of abstract symbols, expresses the radical abstractness of the relations between God and mankind, “so characteristic of the Jews [as it] had been initiated by Moses’ prohibition against worshipping God in a visible form” (Freud 1939: 147). The notion of mediation by means of speech is central to Judaism and it is an essential human attitude towards life. The system of the commandments imparted by God, in terms of values and precepts to be transmitted from generation to generation to the people of Israel, is enunciated through language as a key element in the Jewish religion, as the Jewish theophany is revealed through the word (Deuteronomy 4:12-15). In fact, the God of Israel revealed himself to and was known by the patriarchs Abraham and Moses as a speaking voice, which Moses interpreted and codified to be transmitted to the people of Israel and to all their descendants (Exodus 6:2-8; Deuteronomy 23:13-14). One can also raise questions about Vygotsky and Bernstein’s conscious commitment to Judaism as a religious creed. Our exploration has provided evidence that both of them were secular people, but this fact does not imply the exclusion for the evidence of their Jewish roots. Spinoza, one of Vygotsky’s inspirations, was the first to question the validity of halakhah, and in so doing he provided an early modern model of the secular Jew, although Spinoza regarded himself as completely religious.

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At the unconscious level the essence of Judaism persisted, and its characteristics can be linked to what Freud defined as “a clear consciousness of an inner identity, a common construction of the soul” (Freud 1926). While embodying the universal condition of their own time, they did not live out their Jewish essence through ethnicity or a feeling of election, but by being attuned to its most important values and beliefs. For Bernstein, Judaism reveals itself through the interest in the building of the just society, which cannot be separated from a moral order and a process of education. Although we cannot validate the hypothesis of Vygotsky and Bernstein’s religi­osity, we can indeed find in them the elements of that spirit, pointing to the characteristics of Judaism as described by Buber (1967). These are the tendency towards the unity of man in history and society, the realization of a better society through deeds, and the idea of the future. What we tried to show is that Judaism had a profound influence on their thinking. To call them Jewish thinkers would imply a discussion on the problem of who deserves to be called a Jewish thinker, a question beyond the scope of our discussion. We can conclude by saying that both Vygotsky and Bernstein, each in his own way, contributed to one of the most basic values of Judaism, the idea of Tikkun Olam, the mission of improving general life and the world for the better. The essence of Tikkun Olam, a natural component of socialism, is often used in such quotations as: “The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone” (Psalm 118:22). This is an admonition that sees all humans as having potential that should be realized for the general good. Certainly, Vygotsky and Bernstein worked in that direction. They both have chosen to indicate the path to enhance the human condition, not conceived as endotropic and indistinct, but exotropic, distinct, and in relation to others. This is a way to follow the command dictated to the people of Israel to be separate and distinct: “Ye shall be holy; for I the Lord your God am holy” (Leviticus 19:1-2). Vygotsky and Bernstein, in their lives and respective works, followed such a command, and thus they gave witness to their belonging to the Jewish cultural-historical tradition.

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Index

A

Abraham, 66, 69, 133 Adam and Eve, story of, 68 Ahad Ha-Am, 52, 77 American Jewish identity, 57–58 Anglican Church, 145 Anglican privilege system, 147 Anglo-Jewish Association for foreign affairs, 146 antisemitism, 32, 39, 42, 48, 51, 55, 107-109, 128, 147, 259 Appelfeld, Aharon, xvi–xvii Ardila, Alfredo, 121, 123 Arendt, Hannah, 32 Ashpiz, Solomon Markovich, 96 assimilated Jews, 4 Association for the Enlightenment of the Jews of Russia (OPE), 92–93 Atkinson, Paul, 135 Auerbach, Erich, xvi, 81 Avodim Hainu, 113

B

Bakhtin, Mikhail, 251 Bamberger, Bernard J., 50–51

Bar Kochba, 118, 259 Bar Mitzvah, 97, 122, 138, 140, 166 Bauer, Bruno, 53 beit av, 72 Belorussian literary language, 116 Belorussian theatre, 116 Belyi, Andrey, 99 Benamozegh, Elia, 77 Berdichevsky, Micha, 103n25 Bereshit, 66 Berlin, Isaiah, 12 Bernhard Baron Settlement, 151 Bernstein, Basil Bernard, xv, xvii–xviii, xix, xx, 20, 38, 130–131 academic writings, 252 approach to sociolinguistic codes, 151 “A Public Language: Some Sociological Implications of a Linguistic Form,” 154 biographies of ideas, 42–44 biography, 136–140 childhood and adolescence, 137–138 Class, Codes and Control, 136, 140, 151, 157, 163 classification and framing, idea of, 170–177, 199

282

Index

conception of society, 191–192 concern for under-privileged members of society, 153–154 concerns with speech and meanings, 134 cultural milieus, role of, 54–56 early life, 25 externalization of havdalah principle, 188 families as social units, conception of, 162–168 “Family Role Systems, Communication and Socialisation,” 162 historical antecedents of codes, 243–247 holiness and separation, 184–190 inter-connection between prayer, ritual, and classification, 187 Jewish God ( Judaic God), 181–184 Judaism as a source of inspiration, 3–4, 7–8, 13–14, 43, 131–132, 148, 150, 262 language and consciousness, 9, 202–209 language codes, theory of, 5–6, 151–162, 256 link between education and democracy, 192 origin of consciousness, 12 perfect community, 190–192 personality, 133 process of cultural transmission, 9 public language, 160 restricted code, 189–190 “Ritual in Education,” 155 Sapir’s influence on, 157–158 semantic linkages of speech event, 224–225 service at Royal Air Force (RAF), 137, 139 social structure and class, 156 socio-cultural and historical milieu, 140–148 sociolinguistic interpretation of dialogues between god and man, 223–239 “Some Sociological Determinants of Perception,” 154 structures of social relationships, 199 theoretical approach to Jewish tradition, 197–202 theoretical knowledge, 10 view of Judaism, 177–180, 209–214 work and research, 148–150

Bernstein, Bertram, 136 Biale, David, 46 Bible, the biblical narrative and oral discourse, 221–223 divine discourse in prophetic vocation, 225–232 elaborated and restricted codes in biblical narratives, 225–239, 242 God’s purposes, 82 Jewish identity, 46–47, 79–82 as a literary text, 79–82, 194–195 revelation in the Sinai, 232–239 Blunden, Andy, 126n8 Boas, Franz, 35–36 Bogoraz-Tan, Vladimir, 91–93, 113n1 Book of the Covenant, 72 Booth, Charles, 141 Boyarin, D., 49 Boyarin, J., 49 Brigham, Carl, 31 Bruner, Jerom, 120 Buber, Martin, 59–60, 62, 78 Burt, Cyril, 144

C

Cannadine, David, 143 Cassirer, xix Castelnuovo, Antonella, xv Castiglioni, Vittorio Hayim, 29 Catholic law, 22 Central Committee of the Communist Party, 120 Chanukah, 104, 106, 110 Chomsky, Noam, 120 Christianity, 75 Church of England, 145, 147 Clark, Peter, 156 classification and framing, 170–177, 199 Clermont-Tonnerre, Count de, 50 Clifford, James, 29n7, 50 Codes elaborated, xvii, xix, 152, 160, 162-164, 175, 196, 199, 207, 217, 219-220, 22-225, 230-231, 238, 241-242, 246, 248, 250, 252, 256 historical antecedents of, 243–247 language, 5–6, 151–162, 256

Index restricted, vxii, xix, 152, 154-155, 157, 159-161, 164, 189-190, 196, 199, 210n22, 217-218, 223-225, 230n7, 232-238, 242, 246, 248, 250, 252, 256 Cordovero, Moses, 158 cosmology, 65–67 creation, story of cosmological description of, 65–67 historical dimension of, 67–69 holy identity, 71 cultural transmission, 9 Jewish mode of, 11, 76–79

D

Daniels, Harry, 5 David, Joseph Ben, 33 Dayan, G., 95, 127 Declaration of Human Rights, 50 defectology, 124 Delaney, Harold, 123 Derzhavin, Gavrila Romanovich, 105 Deuteronomy, 64, 247 4:12-15, 261 23:13-14, 261 Deutscher, Isaac, 53–54, 57 devarim, 73 Dewey, John, 10 dialogues, 56, 64, 132, 162, 213, 251 biblical, 217–218, 242, 250 colloquial modes of, 220, 222 counter-posing exchanges between two speakers, 81 between God and man, 193–194, 220, 223–239 between god and man, 223–239 inter-textual, between reader and writer, 80 in Judaism, 9, 45 between lover, xvii as a meaningful transmission of divine laws, 193–194 meta-dialogue, 10, 196–197 in negotiation, 82 parental, with children, 210 self as, 213, 218 Diaspora. See Jews in Diaspora; Judaism, in diaspora Dobkin, Semion, 99

283

Dostoevsky, Fedor Mikhailovich, 88, 98, 99, 104n26, 105, 108 Douglas, Mary, 33, 134, 161, 169 Durkheim, Emile, xix, 6, 56, 158, 200 continuity between religion and scientific thought, 38 The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, 37–38 idea of social representations, 8 importance of religion, 38 theoretical approach to society, 37 dynamic open system, 10, 197

E

East End Jewish community, 141–142 Education Act of 1944, 144 Efron, Noah, 22–23, 26, 31 Ehrenburg, Il’ya, 114 Einstein, Albert, 40 on Jewish ideals, 61 elaborated code, xix, 152, 160, 162-164, 175, 196, 199, 207, 217, 219-220, 22-225, 230-231, 238, 241-242, 246, 248, 250, 252, 256 Elazar, Daniel J., 191 Eliot, George, 251 Elkonin, Daniel, 123 emancipation, process of, 27 of Jews, 50–51 Endelman, Todd, 24–25 Enlightenment, 24, 51 epistemological analysis of social sciences, 35–41 Etkind, Alexander, 90 European Jews in scientific professions, 29 European students’ revolts of 1968, 155 Exodus, book of, 64, 218 3:4, 226 3:11, 228 3:13, 182 3:13-14, 229 3:14, 182 3:14-16, 69 4:10-15, 229 6:2-8, 261 19:6, 65 20:1, 66 20:2, 233 20:3-5, 234

284 20:5-6, 72 20:15, 233 20:16, 233 21, 22:16, 72–73 22:17; 23:19, 73 22:21-22, 73, 154 23:9, 74, 211 24:4, 230 24:7, 47, 237, 241 33:13, 177 33:19-20, 177

F

families as social units, conception of, 162–168 family relationships, 74 Feigenberg, Yosef, 91n9, 92-93, 95n17, 96, 99n22, 100, 102, 110, 114, 116 Feldman, David, 125 Fine, Jacob, 141 Freud, Sigmund, 35, 39–40 Jewishness, 39 Friedgut, Theodore, 87n1, 90n8

G

Gartner, Lloyd, 51, 146 Gay, Peter, 43 Genesis, 63, 218 1:1, 66 1:2, 65 1:4, 162 1:1-10, 185n10 1:26-27, 67

2:1-25, 67 2:18, 67

2:18-20, 173–174 2:23, 78 2:3, 66 12:1, 68 12:2, 75 15:18-21, 228 17:5, 46 18:17-19, 69 18:23-24, 227 18:26, 227 18:32-33, 227 19:30, 227 22:11, 226 22:16, 125

Index Gerchikov, Moisey, 93n10, 98 German Enlightenment, 24–25 German military codes, 22 German occupation of Gomel’, 114 Gindis, Boris, 124n7 Ginsberg, Asher, 52 Ginzburg, Natalia, 4 global village, 21 God’s relationship to Jewish people dynamic relationships, 64–66 historical dimension of, 69 Goldberg, Elkhonon, 121 Goldberg, Harvey E., 72 Gomel’, 91–93, 111 pogrom of August 1903, 93 Gomorra, 69 Gordis, Robert, 40 Graetz, Heinrich, 93, 99 The Guide for the Perplexed, 245 gymnasiia, 97–100, 103–104

H

halakhah, 33 Halliday, Michael, 169 Hamlet, 102–103, 106, 116, 127 Hartman, David, 245–246 Hasan, Ruqaiya, 5, 169 Haskalah, 51 havdalah principle, 185–186, 188 Hebrew Bible, 219 Hebrew text, 79–80 Heidegger, Martin, 3 Heinze, Andrew, 127n9, 129 Hertzl, 52 Heschel, Abraham, 62 hippie movement, 156 history, concept of, 67–69 holiness and separation, 70–71, 184–190 Hollinger, David, 23–24 Holman, Lois, 23–24 Holocaust, 42, 259 homo viator, 68 Hook, Sidney, 57 humanism, 11, 13 Human Migration and the Marginal Man, 53 Hymes, Dell, 157

I

imitatio Dei, 64, 74

Index IQ testing, 144 Islam, 75 Israelites, 64, 66, 68, 72, 80, 151, 165, 182, 191, 193, 217–220, 225, 232–237, 241–242 Italian Jewry, 29 Ivanov, Viacheslav, 114

J

Jacobs, Joseph, 31 James, William, 10 Jankélévitch, Vladimir, 54, 58, 211 Jeremiah, 145, 241 Jewish attitude towards science, 30–31 Jewish Bible, xviii Jewish charity institutions, 142 Jewish collective identity, 27 Jewish communities in England, xviii of Gomel’, 92, 113 Jewish cultural transmission, 11, 76–79 Jewish culture, 61 Jewish education, 201 Jewish Enlightenment, 24, 51 Jewish ethos, 62 Jewish ethos, 4 Jewish heritage, 54, 255 Jewish humanism, 13 Jewish identity, 20, 257 Ahad Ha-Am postulates, 52 American, 57–58 Bible bases of, 46–47, 79–82 Buber’s analysis of Jewishness, 59–60 Eastern Europe Jews, 32 Germany Jews, 32 historical and cultural, 53 individual and collective sphere of, 50 and scientific professions, 31–34 in secular world, 54–58 Jewish immigrants, 141 to England, 146 Jewish integration into English society, 24 Jewish intellectualism, 27, 56 Jewish intelligentsia of Russia, 109 Jewish law, 46 Jewish learning, 23 Jewish monotheism, 65 Jewish operetta, 117 Jewish Prophets, 57

285

Jewish Reformed movement, 152 Jewish religious education, 26 Jewish religious experiences, 30 Jewish Settlement of London, 1960, xviii Jewish society and idea of community, 72–74 civil rights and penal rights, 73 family relationships, 74 inequality, 73–74 respect for strangers, 74 Torah description of, 72 Jews in cultural-historical milieu, 48–54 epistemological representations of social sciences, 35–41 in Middle Age, 61 modernity and, 20–26 in modern scientific professions, 19–20, 27, 31–34 in natural science and engineering faculties, 22 Simmel’s notion of, 37, 55 in social sciences, 34 socio-cultural perspective view of science, 26–31 Jews in Diaspora, 7, 10, 14–15, 131 observance of Jewish precepts, 42 process of emancipation, 50–51 in Rome, 29 Rosman’s claim, 49 secular living of, 28–29 socio-historical changes of, 46 two-world attitude of, 50 in United States, 22–23 Zionism and, 50–52 Jones, Ernst, 35n12, 43 Joravsky, David, 88 Jospe, Raphael, 190, 193, 236 Judaism, xx, 3–4, 14–15, 28, 255–256 Bernstein’s view, 177–180, 193–197 comparison between science and, 34 conception of God in, 60 in diaspora, 45–48 distinction between Jewishness and, 257 distinction from Christianity and Islam, 48 as a form of humanism, 11 founding principles of, 48, 62, 82–83 holiness and separation, 70–71 imitatio Dei, 64

286 importance of man in Jewish tradition, 65–67 Jewish mode of cultural transmission, 76–79 moral principles transmitted by, 33 orderly view of society, 192 principal characteristics of, 60 as a religious creed, 261–262 secularization in, 4 as a system of life, 63–76 Julia, 136–137

K

Kelner, Victor, 93 key experiences, 94, 100 kiddush ceremony, 185 Klier, John, 94n13 knowledge, 6 absolute, 7 comparison between science and, 34 disobjectivation of, 7 mode of, 10 in scientific productions, 6 as a social fact, 6 true, 7 Kotik-Friedgut, Bella, xv Kozulin, Alex, 55 Kravtsov, Gennady, 122 Kravtsova, Elena, 122 Krever, Boris, 91n9, 92, 94, 94n14, 98n20

L

Langacker, Ronald, 121 The Language and the Silence, xvi Lantolf, James, 121 Law of Moses, 47 Lech leckha, 68 Lemke, Jay, 10, 197 Lermontov, Mikhail, 99, 104 Leroy-Beaulieu, Anatole, 31 Letopis’, 102, 109 Levi, Primo, 4 Leviticus, 64, 80, 218, 232, 237, 242 9:9-10, 73 10:10, 173n3 11:44, 234 11:47, 173n3 18:3-4, 236

Index 19:1-2, 70, 262

19:2, 71

19:11, 235 19:14, 74, 125, 154, 235 19:15, 74 19:15-16, 236 20:24-26, 173n3 20:26, 70 22:31, 235 26:11-12, 70

29:1, 235

Lifanova, Tamara, 94n13, 95n17, 98n20, 99, 99n22, 100, 102, 110, 114n2, 116, 119, 160 Luria, Alexander Romanovich, xix, 123 Luther, Martin, 118

M

Maimonides, 62, 77, 158, 245–246 Mandelkern, Israel, 25n4 Manganelli Ratazzi, Anna Maria, 56 marrano attitude, 57 Marx, K., 6, 56, 114 Marxism, 32, 114 “May Laws” of 1882, 91 McLuhan, Marshall, 21 Mead, George Herbert, 6, 10, 200 mediation, 219 Melamed- Cohen, Rachamim, 125 Merton, Robert, 26 meta-dialogue, 10 Midrashic tradition, 246 migration, stories of, 68–69 Miller, William, 123 Milley, C. Ross, 64, 241 Mimesis, xvi, 81 Mirandola, Pico della, 29 mitzvoth, 47, 65, 76–78, 124, 185 modernization, 21 modernization of Jewish communities, 20–26 Moll, Louis, 121 Moore, Rob, 137 moral identity, 72 Morris-Reich, 36 Moscow, 25, 91, 99–101, 113, 119–120, 124, 126, 128, 258 Moses, xviii, 63–64, 69, 127

Index

N

Napoleon, 50 Nelson, Benjamin, 26 Newman, Fred, 89n5 Nohrnberg, James, 228 Novyi put’, 101, 104, 107, 113 Numbers, book of, 64, 218

O

Och, Bernard, 70 October revolutions of 1917, 112 Old Testament, 93, 125 Orsha, 91 Orthodox Chief Rabbinate, 146 Orthodox Judaism, 55, 152

P

paedology, 120 Pale of Settlement, 100, 108 Park, Robert E., 53 particularism, 75–76 Parussa, Sergio, 4 Pentateuch, 63 Pesach (Passover), 195 Peterburg, 107–108 Petuchowski, Jacob, 48, 77 Pierce, Charles Sanders, 10 Poehner, Matthew, 121 pogrom, 91, 93-94, 94n13, 98n20, 105, 108n31, 141, 258 Poliakov, Leon, 57 Promised Land, 64 Protestantism, 24 Psychology of Art, 127 Pushkin, Aleksandr Sergeevich, 105

Q

qadòsh, 70 Quinzio, Sergio, 261

R

Rabkin, Yakov, 27 Raisin, Jacob, 107n30 Ratner, A. E., 97 Reform Judaism, 24 restricted codes, vxii, xix, 152, 154-155, 157, 159-161, 164, 189-190, 196, 199, 210n22, 217-218, 223-225, 230n7,

287

232-238, 242, 246, 248, 250, 252, 256 Rosa, Alberto, 87 Rosman, Moshe, 30, 49 Rosman, Steven, 30, 49, 95 Ross, Gail, 122 Roth, Leon, 77 Ruderman, David B., 30 Rumiantsev, Count, 92 Russian empire, 25, 87, 90–91 Russian Freight Transport Company, 91 Russian literature, xvi

S

Sabbath, 71 Sacks, Jonathan, 75–76, 79 Sagi, Avi, 41 Samuelson, Norbert, 65–66 sanctification, 71 Sapir-Whorf, xix Satlow, Michael, 176–177 school reform of British education, 143–144 primary schools, 144 Scriptural fundamentalism, 47 Second Jewish Commonwealth, 47 secularization, 25, 259 in modern societies, 60 secularized Jews, 34 secular Jews, 4 Serafimovich, Aleksandr Serafimovich, 116 Shaniavsky Free University, 101, 127 Shapiro, Alexander Z., 102, 127 Sharf, Betty, 46, 56 ‘Shma Yisrael’ prayer, 106 significant others, 3 Simmel, Georg, 35–37 Slezkine, Yuri, 21 social class difference, xix Society for Dissemination of Enlightenment Among the Jews of Russia, 25 sociolinguistics, 6, 8, 207, 208, 221 Sodoma, 69 Soloviev, Vladimir, 107–108 Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr, 94n13 special education, 124 Spinoza, Baruch, 118 Stalin, Joseph 99 Marxism on the National and Colonial Question, 99

288

Index

Sutherland, Gillian, 143 symbolic system, xviii Syrkina, R. D., 97 systematization, 11

earliest publications, 102–103 essay “On Children’s Theatre,” 117 essays of literary criticism, 114 higher psychological functions, concept of, 123 home life and education, 93–97 influence of Spinoza’s philosophy, 97 Jewish background on psychological theory, 119–128 Jewish gymnasiia education, 97–100, 103–104, 115–116 Jewishness of, 88–90, 95–96, 257–259 on Jewish operetta, 117 Judaism as a source of inspiration, 3–4, 7–8, 13–14, 43, 257–258 Language and Thought, 121 on Lermontov’s poem, 105 literary criticism, 107 Marxism and, 126, 258 mechanisms of learning, 120 mediation, 123, 257 Pedagogical Psychology, 258 personality and behavior, 101–102, 116 process of cultural transmission, 9 psychological ideas (1924-1934), 118–119 Psychology of Art, 116 references to Jewish scriptures, 123–124 reflexological psychology, 126–127 relationship between individual behaviour and society, 9–10 role of educator, 116 seminar on Jewish History, 99–100 social aspects of cognitive development, 122 social-cultural aspects of human development and activities, 121 teaching in public schools, 115 theoretical knowledge, 10 Thought and Language, xv university education, 101–112 upbringing in the family, 95–97 world-view, 107 years in Gomel’, 91–93 Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD), concept of, 96, 122

T

Talmudic law, 124 Talmudic studies, 28 Temple of Jerusalem, 66 Tikkun Olam, 262 Timenchik, Roman, 114n2 Tolstoy, Leo, xvi-xvii, 100 Tomasello, Michael, 121 Toomela, Aaro, 121 Torah, 48, 61–65, 75, 95, 158, 201, 247 poor people, 73

U

universalism, 75–76

V

Valsiner, Jaan, 55, 89n4, 96n18, 97n19, 119 Van der Veer, Renè, 55, 89n4, 96n18, 97n19, 119 Veresov, Nicolay, 277 Vico, Giambattista, 7 Victorian religious culture, xix Vygodskaya, Gita, xvn1, 89n5, 93n10, 94n13, 95n17, 98n20, 99, 99n22, 100, 100n23, 102, 110, 114n2, 116, 119, 160 Vygodsky, David Isaakovich, 96, 119 Vygodsky, Semion (Simcha), 91 status in Gomel’, 93 Vygotsky, Lev Semionovich, 20, 255–256, xv, xvii, xx approach to defectology, 124 approach to language development, 120–122 Avodim Hainu, 113 Bible language analysis, xvii biographies of ideas, 42–44 childhood and adolescence, 90–93 cultural-historical theory, 5–6 cultural milieus, role of, 54–56 on death of Judaism, 114–115 development of concepts in children, 125–126

W

Weber, Max, 26

Index Weltanschauung, 58–61 Western science, 26 We/Thou dimension, 78 Wexler, Philip, 186 Wood, David, 122 World War I, 22, 92, 103, 106, 143 World War II, xviii, 22, 137, 155 Worsley, Michael, 138

Y

Yerushalmi, 2

Z

Zavershneva, Ekaterina, 89 zedaqàh, 74 Zhabotinsky, Vladimir, 98n21 Zinchenko, Vladimir, 126 Zionism, 50 Zipperstein, Steven J., 25 Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD), concept of, 96, 122

289