I think I wept with joy when I first read Primo Levi. His was, for me, a
matchlessly inspiring example of being Jewish in the world rather than
separately from it. A man of science and ethics, fully integrated into
Italian society and its most progressive elements, he found himself in
Auschwitz not as a result of a Nazi roundup of Italian Jews, but because
he was a captured in the course of his work as an anti-Fascist partisan
fighter. When the Germans occupied Italy in 1942, he responded as a Jew
- not in any narrow, tribal sense (indeed, he didn't identified as
such) but in the expansive, moral sense; in other words, he responded as
any decent person with a love of justice and freedom, by joining the
partisan underground. Not any separate Jewish organization, but the
partisans bound by a common, universal ideology of justice and freedom,
in which any Jew should feel comfortable. As did a lot of Italian Jews
of his generation: The filmmaker Gillo Pontecorvo, most famous for The
Battle of Algiers, and also a partisan, was once quoted as saying "I am
not an out-and-out revolutionary. I am merely a man of the Left, like a
lot of Italian Jews." Yet, once captured as a leftist partisan, it was
the Nazis who reduced Primo Levi's identity to that of a Jew, in a
"racial" sense. His writing - by far the most compelling tales of life
and death in Auschwitz - chronicles the Holocaust experience with both
scouring emotion and the cool eye of reason, always seeking its
universal meanings and implications. His audience, always, is a global
community of likeminded rather than one defined on any narrow
nationalist basis - Zionism had little use for Primo Levi; his work was
only translated into Hebrew after his death.
He seems to resist the temptations of nationalism - of allowing the
Nazis to succeed in defining him against his own instincts - remaining
intensely universalist in his outlook, although deeply rooted in its
specificity: He loved Italian Jewry and its unique history, of which he
was an exemplary product. Also, while he writes what for me are the most
profound and compelling first-hand accounts of - and meditations on -
life in the camps, he is at once the quintessential Holocaust writer but
never simply a Holocaust writer. He returns continually to explore the
magic of science and humanity in everyday life and work, the ethics and
values that took him, as an Italian Jew, into the mountains with the
anti-Fascist partisan resistance. The profound effect of the Holocaust
on Primo Levi's life was central to his work, but his life continued
after the Holocaust. It did not end his life, literally or figuratively -
he went on exploring the universal human condition, a vital presence in
the wider world for whom he saw the Holocaust, and his own experience
of it, as a teaching moment whose meanings were universal.
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