دانلود کتاب داستان هولوکاست و مسئله بی تقوایی

In contemporary discourse, the term Holocaust Impiety—coined by Matthew Boswell, though derived from Gillian Rose’s discussion of the concept of Holocaust Piety in her seminal work Mourning Becomes the Law: Philosophy and Representation—has come to develop a specific set of connotations. In Rose’s text, the concept of impiety relates broadly to a psychological proximity to the perpetrators and victims of the Holocaust. Pious texts, she argues, adopt a position of “ineffability” and “non-representability” (Rose, 1996, p. 43), as they do not properly humanise and contextualise the victims of the event, and nor do they wish to provide insight into the psychology that drives those perpetrating the atrocities. Instead, pious texts tend to opt for simple moral binaries. As Boswell puts it: “Holocaust piety admits only to the clarities of the courthouse: to guilt and innocence, to crime and punishment” (Boswell, 2012, p. 158). To elucidate this, Rose uses the example of Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (1993), which she views as the archetypal example of Holocaust piety. Spielberg’s film does not provide depthful and complex portraits of its two principal characters, Oscar Schindler and Amon Goeth, but rather pro­vides two abstract embodiments of good and evil. Rather than creating a sense of continuity between “the banality of Schindler’s benevolence and the gratuity of Goeth’s violence” and suggesting that these two men, given their similar origins as Austrians from “undistinguished families”, may eas­ily reverse their positions, the film instead opts to represent Schindler as a “demi-God” (Rose, 1996, p. 46; p. 47) and Goeth as an unapproachably insane lunatic. Pious texts, as Rose puts it, aim to “mystify something that we dare not understand, because we fear that it may be all too understand­able, all too continuous with what we are—human, all too human” (Rose, 1996, p. 43). In short, therefore, the core tenet of Rose’s understanding of Holocaust impiety is the notion that the Holocaust must not be viewed as an untouchably, incomprehensibly singular event outside of the realm of human understanding. Instead, impious texts must make the psychol­ogy of the victims and perpetrators of the Holocaust understandable. Rose particularly praises Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel The Remains of the Day, for instance, for its capacity to illustrate the creeping influence of fascist ideol­ogy in a way that resonates particularly with the reader. By illustrating the butler Stevens’s slow corruption, as his values slowly shift and his under­standing of dignity is reframed towards “unstinting service” to his master, the book promotes a “crisis of identity” (p. 52; p. 46) in the reader. By this, Rose means that the reader is forced to confront their own potential susceptibility to certain forms of political influence, which not only height­ens our present-day sense of engagement with the Holocaust—as we are forced to ask ourselves how we might have fared in certain political con­texts—but also once again reasserts that the Holocaust is not to be regarded as an unreachably singular event. We must not regard the Holocaust as something incomprehensibly sacred, as figures such as Elie Wiesel and Claude Lanzmann have in the past—indeed, Lanzmann has previously asserted that there is an “absolute obscenity in the project of understanding” (Lanzmann, 2007, p. 51)—instead, we must counter the depthless sentimentality of the vast majority of mainstream Holocaust fic­tion with works that vividly bring to life the victims and perpetrators of the Holocaust.