The story of the migration of German Jews between the two world wars is a multifaceted story that spans different routes and destinations: to the United States, the Land of Israel, Britain, and other places in the world. The book explores this story from a comparative perspective and from the perspective of the immigrants themselves. In this way, the envelope that defines the migration of Jews from Germany as a movement of purely persecuted refugees, as passive objects swept along in the course of history, is unraveled. The book seeks to examine the decisions of migration, its timing, and its destinations, and to illuminate the similarities and differences in the identities of the immigrants at different times and destinations. To this end, it traces the course of immigration from the moment the decision to emigrate was made, the choice of timing and destination, the obstacles and opportunities, to the patterns of adaptation in the destination countries and the role played by immigrant groups in the host countries. This historical perspective places the question of whether the immigration of German Jews created a distinct German Jewish diaspora or whether it marked the end of the German chapter in Jewish history at the center.

In this issue we sought to give expression to the historical dimensions of the philosophical debate on the concept of "identity" as well as to discuss philosophical questions about identity related to this time: What is the place of "selfhood" in an era of rapid change? What is the relationship between personal identity and the consciousness of identity? What is the relationship between psychoanalytic conceptions of identity and the decomposition of the concept of identity in postmodern thought? What role should personal, national, and religious identity play in a multicultural and global world? How should the place of individuation processes – private, social, technological, and environmental – in the establishment of identity be understood? And can philosophical identities be characterized in the struggle for peace, justice, and human rights?

Selected articles from current issue: Amir Banbaji | More Figurative than all Other Songs. A Study of the Pre-Maskilic History of the Hebrew Melitsah Nurit Barnea-Bernheim | ‘Total Love’: The Story of Miriam in ‘The Tale of the Scribe’ by S.Y. Agnon Neta Stahl | ‘How Come I Love the Ugav?’: The Ugav in Uri Zvi Grinberg’s Poetry Roy Greenwald | Kin of Dust: On Al Hakhmot Derakhim by Avot Yeshurun

The Politics is a foundational work of Greek philosophy and a cornerstone of Western political thought. It is an investigation into the nature of the polis (the city-state), which Aristotle defines as a partnership of a certain kind among similar people for the sake of the best attainable life. In this inquiry, Aristotle seeks to determine how a virtuous and flourishing city is constructed and sustained. In Books VII–VIII - presented here for the first time in Hebrew - Aristotle depicts a vivid portrait of the ideal Greek city, and formulates a guide for the establishment of a flourishing city.

Within the Babylonian Talmud are dozens of stories depicting sharp confrontations between the Amoraim, the Talmudic sages. These narratives portray the charged relationships among the sages, the emergence of conflict, and the profound emotional harm that results from it. Why do conflicts among the creators of Talmudic literature occupy such a central literary place? This book examines these stories as a distinct literary corpus. The analysis shows that the conflicts consistently center on one domain: injury to personal honor. They are also marked by a characteristic plot structure, in which conflict develops unintentionally and escalates uncontrollably, leading to a rupture between the characters. Using tools from narrative theory and comparative poetics, the book explores how these stories operate. They draw the reader into a web of misunderstandings and communicative failures, making simple moral judgment difficult. Instead, they direct attention to the inner and interpersonal worlds of the characters, and to the literary construction of the Talmudic study house as a space of mutual dependence and identity formation.

Simon Bernfeld (1860–1940) was one of the most popular Jewish European writers of the early twentieth century. A prolific bestselling author in a broad range of fields of history and Jewish studies, and a pivotal figure in the renaissance of Jewish national culture. His oeuvre encompassed dozens of books, hundreds of essays, and thousands of daily columns published in Hebrew and German. Yet despite his vast influence, Bernfeld remained outside the mainstream. His prominent presence until the late 1920s stands in stark contrast to his subsequent obscurity. This gap prompts for an examination of whether his “forgetting” was deliberate and connected to the historical narrative he sought to promote. His political views, expressed in his sermons as a modern rabbi in Belgrade, in his polemic essays criticizing both the rabbinate and the Zionist Congress, were similarly marginalized. On The Margins: A Biography of Simon Bernfeld unfolds a biography woven into the history of the Jewish intelligentsia circles in Galicia, his birthplace, and Berlin, where he lived for many years until his death. His correspondence with a wide array of figures reviles the emergence of Hebrew mass media and a national canon. Through spatial and cultural analysis, exploring themes of Jewish imperial relations and intra-European migration, the book maps the Jewish intellectual networks of Galicia and the Pale of Settlement, examining their impact on the formation of Jewish cultural and intellectual power centers at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

Few texts have left a mark on history as profound as The Communist Manifesto . First ‎published in 1848, this brief yet explosive work by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels became ‎one of the most influential texts in the formation of modern society and the modern self. It ‎ignited revolutions, inspired political movements, and provoked fear, resistance, and ‎enduring controversy, while offering a powerful framework for understanding the economic ‎and social forces that continue to shape our world.‎ But The Communist Manifesto is more than a political program. It is a striking work of ‎philosophical and moral reflection, grappling with the human condition in a world defined ‎by perpetual change—a world of capitalism, restless desire, and the drive toward ceaseless ‎innovation. Read anew, the Manifesto emerges as a mirror of our present moment, ‎challenging us to rethink freedom, justice, and the transformative power of ideas.‎ This book offers a fresh introduction to The Communist Manifesto and its place in the ‎history of ideas. Through close reading and conceptual analysis, it seeks to restore the ‎text’s vitality—not as a document of the past, but as a living invitation to reflect on the ‎present and imagine our collective future.‎

A Guide to Jewish Warsaw 1938 is an extraordinary book, describing a place that no longer exists: Jewish Warsaw was, as is well known, utterly destroyed in World War II. And yet, the book seeks to pretend as if everything is still intact, and it is possible to go on a tour following it or embark on an imaginary journey. Every detail is based on information pertaining to Jewish Warsaw in 1938 from countless sources: newspapers, literature, travel guides, written and oral memoirs, archives, interviews, films, and exhibitions. A Guide to Jewish Warsaw 1938 seeks to reveal the beauty hidden from the eye in the largest Jewish city in Europe before the war. The acquaintance with Jewish Warsaw is made through general and useful introductions, describing its history, its beliefs and opinions, its unique language, and its tastes and smells. At the center of the book are seven walking tours, revealing the city's delights: the antique bookstores on Świętokrzyska Street; the buffet at the Writers and Journalists Association at Tłomacka 13; the "Maccabi" swimming pool and the Bund's sports field; cantorial music at the Great Synagogue and Hasidic melodies in the Modrzyc courtyard in the resort town of Otwock; the summer terrace at the Rubinchik cafe, opening onto Krasiński Garden, "the Jewish Garden"; modern marble sculptures in the cemetery; the "Tel Aviv" cafe on Nowolipie Street; the treasures in the Jewish Museum; courtyards that are a world of their own on Nalewki Street and its surroundings, and much more.

How does the past remain present in the urban landscape—in houses, streets, and public squares—even after the culture that once sustained it has been destroyed? What happens when history is not merely an abstract memory but a material reality that continues to shape and unsettle the present? In Bloody Wednesday , Yechiel Weizman traces the ghostly presence of the Jews of Olkusz, a town in south-central Poland whose large Jewish community flourished for centuries, until the Holocaust. Despite their total physical absence, from the end of the war until today the memory of the Jews is palpable and persistent—and at the same time silenced and repressed—in every street corner: in empty houses, in abandoned cemeteries and synagogues, in plaques and monuments, and through the ongoing public debates about property, heritage, and commemoration. Using the case study of a single Polish town, the book shows how the urban topography of Eastern Europe was continuously reshaped and redefined in relation to the legacy of the Second World War, the question of Jewish property, and the politics of Holocaust memory during the Communist period and after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Adopting a microhistorical lens and examining the smallest details of everyday life and urban history, the book reveals how the persistent debate over the presence of the dead Jews in the concrete and imagined spaces of one small town became a dramatic arena for a painful, intimate, and nostalgic confrontation with the violent fingerprints of the twentieth century and with pressing questions of responsibility, ethics, and guilt.

In the philosophical and psychological tradition, the concept of imagination is associated, first and foremost, with the human mind’s ability to intend and depict to itself objects that are not directly present before it. In contrast to sensory perception, imagination is often linked to a spectrum of mental states—such as fantasy, hallucination, and dream—that are freed from the burden of factuality and the logic of what is possible within its bounds. Such states are typically of interest because of the creative—sometimes anomalous—potential they hold, even though they are generally understood as secondary additions to the project of human knowledge. Imagination—in all its material expressions—not only presents us with spaces of unrealized possibilities but even with ones that cannot be realized at all in reality, and in this sense, they are beyond reality, "outside," or "above" the real. Thus, in its literal sense, imagination is surrealism. Once we recognize the imagination’s potential to challenge the existing order, it is no longer possible to think of reality and imagination as two entirely separate domains, and the question of the interaction between them becomes more pressing and clear.

The Last Trial deals with the trial of Ivan Demjanjuk, who was tried in the State of Israel in 1986 on charges of being "Ivan the Terrible," the operator of the gas chambers at the Treblinka extermination camp, and was acquitted after a seven-year legal process. The book is based on in-depth archival research and reveals for the first time a rich collection of historical documents from the legal authorities in Israel, the United States, and Germany. The book is also based on in-depth interviews with senior members of the legal system who were involved in the trial – judges, attorneys, and witnesses. The Demjanjuk case was considered both a case with a high chance of conviction and a potential for severe punishment, and a case that was expected to bring the memory of the Holocaust back onto the public agenda, some half a century after the Eichmann trial. It was chosen from among the cases of other suspects to be the first test case for the possibility of extraditing Nazi criminals from the United States to Israel. The results of the trial therefore had a decisive impact on the continued activity of the State of Israel in bringing Nazi criminals to justice. When Demjanjuk was acquitted, it became clear that not only had the prosecution failed to achieve the desired result of convicting the defendant, but also that the legal process in his case had failed to fulfill the educational, documentary, and historical goals that were attached to it. In the final analysis, this resounding failure brought the prosecution of the Nazis and their accomplices in the State of Israel to an end. The tension between the legal field and the historical field, and between legal judgment and factual truth, runs throughout the book. The greatest danger of blurring the lines between "law" and "history" lies in the fact that the legal outcome of a criminal proceeding – "guilty" or "not guilty" – may mistakenly be linked to the historical determination of "did happen" or "did not happen." A misunderstanding of legal acquittal as historical acquittal is one of the biggest obstacles to the influence of criminal law, which ends in acquittal, on collective memory. As the book shows, the case of Demjanjuk's extradition and trial in Israel illustrates the difficulties inherent in dealing with the Holocaust within the courtroom, and also sharpens the problematic nature of using criminal law tools to establish historical truths.

Yehuda Jud Ne'eman's latest book, Auschwitz Capital of the 20th Century , presents the work of one of the most important scholars of Israeli cinema, who was also a groundbreaking director and creator. In this book, Ne'eman shares with his readers his involvement as a creator and intellectual in the establishment of Israeli cinema as a space for central artistic, cultural, and political discourse, whose significant contribution to Israeli culture and society is beyond doubt. The book includes two parts that complement each other. The first part contains an innovative and original discussion that maps the history of Israeli cinema by comparing it to cinema that began during the yishuv period. During this period, cinema was committed to the Zionist narrative, and the work is characterized as a continuous conflict between avant-garde and ideology, similar to Soviet avant-garde cinema. Within the framework of this comparison, Ne'eman emphasizes the preoccupation with modernist cinema of the "New Sensibility," a term coined years ago, and refers to films created by Israeli directors following the French "New Wave," including his own films. In doing so, he claims that between Israeli folk film and the modernism of the "New Sensibility" films, there was in fact cooperation in opposition to the establishment and Zionist ideology. The second part of the book discusses films made in the State of Israel and during the yishuv period that deal with the representation of the Holocaust as a central test case. Among other things, Ne'eman shows that the attempt to heal the horrors of the Holocaust in a simplistic national way expresses feelings of guilt and offers a limited solution to the problems of the survivors.