A Library Like No Other

As part of London's Museum Lates season, I spent an hour touring the Wiener Library for the Study of the Holocaust and Genocide.

Officially established in 1939 by Dr Alfred Wiener, the library was the first to document the Holocaust. Today it contains 70,000 books and continues to accept donations - letters, photos, drawings, leaflets etc. as well as books - from that period in time, in addition to contemporary material. Donations from individuals serve to humanise the victims of genocide, and combat the faceless portrayal of them by their aggressors.

Collecting and making available evidence of more recent genocides is at the heart of the Wiener Library's ethos; it strives to catalogue history as it happens and maintain present day relevance. During the Second World War the library was in fact fully funded by the government due to its usefulness in informing on Nazi atrocities, and after making an invaluable contribution to the prosecution case in the Nuremberg Trial received  the transcripts. At the time of writing, the library's most recent acquisition was children's drawings of genocide in Darfur - harrowing pages of bloodstained childhood innocence that will hopefully preclude future whitewashing by Sudanese government officials and other deniers.

Yet as you might expect, the bulk of the material in the Wiener Library evidences Nazism in European history. In the temperature-controlled bowels of the library where the rarer collections are held, we thumbed through a Nazi arithmetic book from 1941 with questions including how much the government spends on people with congenital illnesses. We also looked at what would have seemed to be a fairly benign Nazi colouring book; an anti-Nazi manifesto printed in miniature and hidden in a teabag packet; a photo album of a Holocaust survivor; and a copy of Der Freiwillige, a neo-Nazi publication still in circulation.

I often hear Jews lampooned for 'harking on' about the Holocaust. But keeping the discourse alive is crucial to preventing genocide reoccurring. With right-wing extremist thought regarding immigration re-emerging across Europe today, I lament at how quickly people seem to forget grave mistakes of the past. Collections like the Wiener Library's plead with us to remember, as well as to recognise that crimes against humanity continue to happen.

Jews, Punk & The Swastika: An Uneasy Exploration

"Rock against racism" is a phrase with which I've been familiar for many years now, having likely seen it emblazoned on tour posters for NOFX, Rancid and the like. Anti-racist activism and rock - especially punk - music seem likely bedfellows, in that the music is an audio assault on conservative/ authoritarian thinking and institutions - Nazis, Black Shirts, the Thatcher and Reagan administrations. Plus the alternative music scene used to serve as a club for those who didn't feel that they quite belonged to mainstream society, a group defined by members that alluded easy social categorisation. This is still true today to an extent, although there is relatively little to distinguish the cliques and associated conformist style and behaviour that have developed in this space to those that are more of the MTV world.

When I bagged an invite to a Jewish Book Week panel discussion, "Jews in Punk", I anticipated a relatively innocuous conversation about the links between minority groups, religious or otherwise, punctuated with the odd amusing anecdote about Gene Simmons requesting maotza ball soup backstage, or the Beastie Boys originally naming one of their most anthemic tunes "You've Gotta Fight For Your Right To Purim Party" (disclaimer: to my knowledge neither of these things actually happened, but wouldn't it be great if they did?).

What I wasn't expecting was discourse dominated by the appropriation of the swastika symbol by some of punk music's most renowned figures.

On the panel were Geoff Travis, founder of Rough Trade Records, Charles Murray, an editor for the NME in the '70s when working for the magazine actually meant something in music circles, Daniel Miller who founded and heads up Mute record label and publishing house, and the artist Toby Mott.

The panel discussion began with exploration of the links between their chosen professions and Jewish identity.

Geoff Travis's family fit the Jewish family cookie cutter of the time: they lived in Finchley and owned a shoe shop in the East End. Despite being a very anti-social teen, Geoff forced himself into a communal situation by spending time on a kibbutz in Israel. This introduction to a socialist way of life ultimately filtered through to his business ideals; he wanted Rough Trade to "have an element of communality, be an open house that anyone could come to... Give people an equal chance to make art, and for that art to reach its highest point." Geoff sees the Richard Branson model of doing business as anathema to him - "I've always wanted the artists to be successful, not the entrepreneurs."

Charles Murray's upbringing was one of quiet and somewhat comfortable suburban living, which he came to resent. "I grew up in net curtain land. I was down with anything that disrupted the smooth surface of bourgeois suburban complacency." When people assume he is of the bourgeois brigade, he is equally disdainful: "They asked if I was an old Etonian - more like an old Estonian!"

Not all of Daniel Miller's family made it out of Germany and Austria during the period of Nazi rule. "I was taught to always question authority." This was reflected in his musical tastes; nothing was to conform or become staid. For a period Daniel felt that music had stopped evolving - and then along came the curious and hypnotic loops of German electronica. Whilst bearing few similarities in sound, Daniel regarded electronic music and punk as sharing much in principle: both aimed to evade norms.

Toby Mott is a long-time collector of not only Rock Against Racism, but also neo-Nazi punk, memorabilia - stickers, badges, posters etc. Jews are apparently the biggest collectors of such items, including names in music like Chris Stein from Blondie. Many feel it is vital that Nazi items be exhibited, so as not to let people forget the atrocities of the past; this is a powerful way of keeping alive the message, "Never again." Collecting is also about regaining a sense of control, taking the insignia away from the perpetrators of old and thereby draining them of the fear and terror they used to embody.

Wedding Jewishness and careers associated with punk is more understandable in the British punk context.  While the London punk scene was always highly political, influenced as it was by Marxism and often geared towards confronting the National Front, NYC's brand of punk tended to avoid serious issues - or at least approached them in a more fleeting and playful way. The Ramones were cartoon characters compared to their trans-Atlantic brethren.

This political bent of British punk has been a bit of a double-edged sword, with neo-Nazi punks swarming the scene as well as those with socialist sympathies. Yet interestingly swastikas have been adorned by members of both camps within the genre.

And so the discussion took a controversial turn, as both panel and audience members debated punk and the swastika.

Siouxsie and Sid Vicious are just two of many prominent figures in the punk movement to publicly wear the swastika. They did this in order to be provocative, yes, but is it anti-Semitic?

Siouxsie's case is not helped by the fact that the Souxsie and the Banshees song Love in A Void originally included the line too many Jews for my liking - and let's ignore for a moment how catchy Hong Kong Garden is, and recognise the hugely racially-insensitive lyrics!

Junk floats on polluted water/ An old custom to sell your daughter / Would you like number 23? / Leave your yens on the counter please... Slanted eyes meet a new sunrise/ A race of bodies small in size...

At one point in the discussion, a lady in the audience with an indiscernible accent called out, "Can we stop picking on Siouxsie?" It turns out that she, an Israeli punk, had herself donned a swastika and rejected the notion that it could necessarily be used in a game of Spot the Anti-Semite. We the audience were then reminded of the Siouxsie and the Banshees song Israel.

Shattered fragments of the past / Meet in veins on the stained glass / Like the lifeline in your palm / Red and green reflects the scene / Of a long-forgotten dream...

I'm still not certain where I stand on the acceptability of punks using the swastika. Given its sinister connotations, you'd think one would give it a wide birth? Or is it understandable that punks have used it to shock, in order to get across a more productive message, shattering the "smooth surface of bourgeois suburban complacency" with jagged-edged words, chords and clothes? Hell, punk was never meant to be polite.

If I have to offer my opinion on the matter, I'd say it's for the afflicted community to decide how to handle the swastika. Whether it's Jews in the Diaspora collecting to document the past, or Israelis wearing the symbol in a show of strength and rejection of victimhood, there is an underlying aim to transform something that was so harmful to Jews into something constructive for Jews. As for Siouxsie, I think she should have displayed a little more sensitivity.

'Sick' City Society?

Having been beyond lazy with my extra-curricular writing in the past year (save an article on my summer Israel trip, with a title I cannot and will not take responsibility for... see here if you are so inclined), I've been spurred into fingers-tapping-frantically-on-keyboard action by an article in the Guardian reporting on various research studies/ hypotheses about the link between city living and poorer mental health.

My initial reaction to the article was to be mildly disparaging. Journalists shouldn't give credence or column inches to research suggesting that "aircraft noise might inhibit children's learning" – and three-year-old me with Playmobil plane in hand (the airport set was a firm favourite) would vociferously disagree! Sight and sound stimuli are more commonly learning aids than inhibitors, I'm sure. And conversely, car noise helps?! Pet peeve as a researcher: when people focus in on the data too closely and suspend common sense.

It also omits the obvious. Us city folk tend to work longer hours, for money that doesn't stretch as far because it's so expensive to rent/ own a home. Very simple causes of stress, no?

Yet the Guardian article doesn't wholly err on the ridiculous; there's some interesting ideas to contemplate in there about how the urban habitat is not conducive to mental wellbeing. So I got to thinking about how social density cultivates social isolation. I’m surrounded by people on the packed District Line tube in the morning - the number of armpits I've been squeezed under like a piece of fruit waiting to be juiced is thoroughly depressing - and yet I establish no real connection with any of these people. We all plug into the Matrix (iPad, iPod, smart phone,Kindle) and try to zone out the relatively unpleasant commute. The only emotion I feel in response to a fellow traveller is typically disdain, when they attempt to read the Metro when there's barely an inch of space between my face and theirs, and I almost lose an eye. And it's not a real newspaper anyway.

London has a very special way of at times making one feel very alone, sure. I think another city-specific mind-fuck (not mentioned in the article) is an issue often discussed in the context of behavioural economics: the paradox of choice. The established wisdom was that choice is always a good thing - not so, say proponents of BE. Human beings have been proven to be pretty dire choosers when too many options are presented to them; they lack the capacity to evaluate these effectively. This is why best-buy shortlists and Amazon recommendation are so appealing to us - they dramatically simplify and therefore ameliorate the chore that choice can be. In a big city, we are bombarded with choice. Just open up TimeOut and see the myriad things you can do on any given evening. It's great, and at the same time anxiety-inducing.

It's difficult selecting the right Vietnamese BYOB restaurant on Kingsland Road, the right ‘critic’s choice’ kitchen sink drama in Soho – or even deciding at a more basic level what you feel like doing on a particular evening with friends or a partner. Whatever you finally pick entails a huge opportunity cost. OMG SO MUCH PRESSURE WHAT IF THE BURGER ISN’T AS GOOD AS AT MEAT LIQUOR OR DIRTY BURGER OR HONEST BURGER AND THE BURGERAC.ORG REVIEW WAS HORRIFICALLY MISGUIDED?! It’s a first-world problem, mind.
Sometimes the choices you have to make are more profound ones – and again, the city will supply options in abundance. There are 1,000s upon 1,000s of jobs out there in more obscure/ specialised fields than elsewhere in the country, in our predominant tertiary sector. Which career path to take? And then there's dating in the city. With the ease and convenience provided by the now near-ubiquitous Tinder, there’s enough people out there for you to dismiss at the swipe of a finger, and you’ll still have plenty left to have a pool of several on the go, unsure which – if any – is ultimately deserving of your precious time. I'm not against using technology to help meet someone per se - and that would be hypocritical, shhh - but the tools at our disposal can dilute relationships as well as facilitate them.
Further, greater choice engenders higher expectations and, as a result, we experience disappointment more frequently.

So that's my two cents, based on experience, of how city life can make you mental. It can also be challenging in a good way, and enriching, exhilarating, magical... But I guess there's no news story there, so lets hear more, Dr Pseudo Science, on how "our brains are not perfectly shaped for living in urban environments"...