A compelling account of how a group of Hasidic Jews established its own local government on American soil
Settled in the mid-1970s by a small contingent of Hasidic families, Kiryas Joel is an American town with few parallels in Jewish history--but many precedents among religious communities in the United States. This book tells the story of how this group of pious, Yiddish-speaking Jews has grown to become a thriving insular enclave and a powerful local government in upstate New York. While rejecting the norms of mainstream American society, Kiryas Joel has been stunningly successful in creating a world apart by using the very instruments of secular political and legal power that it disavows.
Nomi Stolzenberg and David Myers paint a richly textured portrait of daily life in Kiryas Joel, exploring the community's guiding religious, social, and economic norms. They delve into the roots of Satmar Hasidism and its charismatic founder, Rebbe Joel Teitelbaum, following his journey from nineteenth-century Hungary to post-World War II Brooklyn, where he dreamed of founding an ideal Jewish town modeled on the shtetls of eastern Europe. Stolzenberg and Myers chart the rise of Kiryas Joel as an official municipality with its own elected local government. They show how constant legal and political battles defined and even bolstered the community, whose very success has coincided with the rise of political conservatism and multiculturalism in American society over the past forty years.
Timely and accessible, American Shtetl unravels the strands of cultural and legal conflict that gave rise to one of the most vibrant religious communities in America, and reveals a way of life shaped by both self-segregation and unwitting assimilation.
This was a long read on merit of its academic legalese, and the sheer litigious nature of the Satmars got exhausting and a bit tedious to follow towards the end. However, while it was probably a bit outside of my preferred genre, credit must be given where credit is due--I thought it was a very well-researched book, and one that managed to remain fair and neutral discussing issues that inspired black-and-white ire from both sides of the court.
Some thoughts and takeaways: 1. Stolzenberg makes the point that Kiryas Joel is a uniquely American phenomenon, one that was borne from the U.S.'s concept of private property and unusual separation of church and state. Kiryas Joel was not a top-down decision like, say, Israel; it was instead bottom-up, forged from the US's fierce private property rights and then protected by their freedom to practice religion. In other countries, such as in France, what the Satmars did would never come to pass; "égalité", as the French would say. I find it wildly fascinating to think there are some uniquely American things that exist because of our legal system that don't exist in other countries--not in an American exceptionalism kind of way, but just ... it's wild how entire an entire culture or movement can exist in one place and not the other, on merit of a society's tangled or rigidly held laws.
2. Jews have always co-existed in societies in which they were the minority and found ways to thrive in said society even in spite of restrictions. Despite their emphasis on insularity, the Satmars are no different. They readily partnered with whichever political party would help advance their interests, and learned the legal system could be used to their advantage to settle disputes, stop others in their track, and otherwise strong-arm or protect what they needed. They might ignore American society, but they weren't immune to ignoring the American legal system. As it so happens, the legal system is complicated and twisted enough that it wasn't hard for them to find ways to bend it to their will.
3. I loved the delicious irony of what to do with the Satmars from a Republican vs. Democrat perspective. Even as Democrats resisted majority Christianity encroaching on American life, they nonetheless couldn't deny the Satmars because to do otherwise would reject liberal pluralism--the Satmars are a cultural minority, after all, and pluralism advocates supporting their right to practice their culture. Meanwhile, the Republicans embraced the Satmars because they had similar causes--freedom of religion meaning right to include religion in the public domain, and the right to educate their children as they saw fit. It didn't matter that evangelical Christians and Satmars believed in totally different things; the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
4. What is freedom of religion? Is it the freedom to practice your religion, wherever, however, which means it can be practiced in a public space if that's what is important to your community? Or is it freedom from religion, because at the point you practice your religion in my public space, it infringes on my right to practice my religion (or none at all)? Does practicing a religion in a public space end up endorsing that religion, albeit implicitly? I can see both sides, which is the type of legal issue I find most fascinating.
5. It was so interesting seeing how Kiryas Joel's adherents first were introduced to the legal system because they needed to defend themselves against the town of Monroe; then they started using the legal system not just to defend themselves, but to gain things they needed from the external world; then they started using the legal system on each other, within their own community, to settle religious differences. It was a bit sad to see the fierce in-fighting, but it makes sense that if the Satmars had to gerrymander the legal system to exist within Monroe, it was only a matter of time they would use that same political know-how to undermine dissidents in their own community.
6. The real power of the American legal system is its litigiousness. Don't want something to happen? Sue. Want something to happen? Sue.
Or “Satmars and shnorrers.” Honestly, I had to stop about 60% of the way through. The beginning was really interesting, and then at a certain point it turns into an incredibly boring history of the endless litigation involving the town. It’s like somebody wrote a 500-page book about the fight between that annoying guy on the next street who painted his house blue and the HOA that insists on green or beige. The authors make some points early on and then beat them to death: the Satmars learned from Americans to litigate; Kiryas Joel became a flashpoint in the changing natures of both liberalism and conservatism. Etc.
Really good. I learned a lot. Empathetic without being too credulous. Ends rather abruptly but otherwise great.
The core thesis is that despite KJs and Satmars obvious differences from mainstream America, they really are a very American phenomenon. Between our highly litigious culture and multicultural liberalism and property rights, it’s very America.
“American Shtetl: The Making of Kiryas Joel, A Hasidic Village in Upstate New York” is a brilliant, eye-opening, thought provoking, easy to read and enjoyable book by two university scholars, Nomi M. Stolzenberg of the University of Southern California, Gould School of Law who has written widely on law and religion, and David N. Myers of the University of California, Chair in Jewish History, whose many books include Jewish History: A Very Short Introduction. Despite the radical ways Satmar Hasidim differ from mainstream religions and even from most other Jews, as we will soon read, the authors write, “The fundamental claim of this book, [is] that the Satmar community of Kiryas Joel is a quintessentially American phenomenon.” “Fighting for the right to preserve one’s culture is in fact quintessentially American … whether it be the Christian baker who refuses to make a cake for a gay wedding or an Orthodox Jew who practices a controversial form of circumcision.” Thus, the authors tell us that we will learn much about America by reading how Satmar became successful. Readers will learn how a group of pious, Yiddish-speaking Hasidic Jewish families, dressed differently than the current American fashion, settled in a small area in upstate New York. They built a village that was turned into a town. They have a powerful local Satmar government despite strong even legal opposition by nearby non-Jewish and even Jewish neighbors. They did this despite there being no precedent for such a town in European Jewish history. Remarkably, as the authors stress, although Satmar insisted that their adherents continue the practices of a prior century in Eastern Europe, they achieved success by using American methods of participating in local and state elections, becoming a formidable voting bloc, influencing politicians at all levels, using the courts, getting government monetary support, and more. They would not have been successful – not at all – if they maintained their basic principle of separation from the non-Jewish world to the greatest extent possible. We read a detailed description of the charismatic founder of Satmar Hasidim, Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum (1887-1974), who had this view of separation. He dreamed of founding a Jewish town modeled on the shtetls, the small enclaves, where he was born in Hungary. The project began on September 27, 1972, when a Satmar man purchased the first parcel of land in Monroe, New York. On March 2, 1977, the village of Kiryas Joel was formally established. On July 1, 2018, Kiryas Joel became a formal town called “Palm Tree,” English for “Teitelbaum.” The name Satmar is derived from the name of the birthplace of Rabbi Teitelbaum’s version of Hasidim. He formed the group in 1905. He dedicated it to reject modernity, to reverence the way of the ancient Israel, and separation from the non-Jewish world. He included a strong hatred of the current State of Israel which, in his opinion, failed to wait for the messiah’s arrival before establishing a secular state. The “impure language” of Modern Hebrew must never be spoken. His view of Judaism and that of his followers is a refusal to change any tradition of the nineteenth century, including clothes, reading material, beliefs, and practices. This is a code of conduct enunciated by Rabbi Moses Sofer (1762-1839 – known as Chasam Sofer), “innovation is forbidden as a matter of Torah law.” Satmar Hasidim grew quickly from 1905. It is today the largest Hasidic movement in the world. It has over 150,000 members. Since the death of Rabbi Teitelbaum and the death of his successor, most of the Satmar Hasidim are either located at Kiryas Joel or in Williamsburg under two different leaders. What prompted the division is reported intriguingly by the two authors. As a result of conformity, Kiryas Joel is a sea of uniformity. Men are dressed in black with tzitzis (fringes) hanging outside their pants from their prayer shawl undergarment. Most men have beards and carefully twirled sidelocks based on their interpretation of Leviticus 19:26. Women wear long skirts as well as tops that cover their necklines and sleeves that extend to their wrists. They wear thick stockings, not sheer ones. Married women cover their heads after shaving off their hair every month. Procreation is a sacred ideal in the community and many families therefore have between eight and fifteen children. Girls are encouraged to marry at age 18 and boys at 20. The median age of Kiryas Joel is 12.4. Homes are crowded, children rarely have their own bedroom, but each parent has his and her separate bed for religious reasons. There are signs advising men and women to walk on different sides of the street during the Sabbath and holidays. Women are forbidden to drive cars. Foods such as sushi is deemed too blatant a symbol of assimilation into American society and is unacceptable. Secular education is minimized. There is no public library in the town. Men are encouraged to learn sacred texts. Women are allowed some secular studies. The average Satmar has little understanding of how the outside world works and many men lack functional levels of English required to make their way into a competitive labor market. The burden of economic responsibility therefore shifts to women. The median household income is $26,000 half the national average. As of 2008, nearly fifty percent of Satmar families live below the poverty line. A high 93 percent of the village are enrolled in Medicaid programs for low income individuals and families. The authors conclude their very insightful book by reminding us that “one may look aghast at the weakened wall of separation between synagogue and state” because of the many supports that the state, including the funds the federal government gives Satmar, “as well as KJ’s [Kiryas Joel’s] decidedly conservative values on gender, education, and social integration. But none should doubt that Kiryas Joel is an American creation, born and bred in this country, and belongs to a long tradition of strong religious communities [of all faiths] that have survived and flourished in the United States.” We should add that although one may disagree with the Satmar Hasidim and dislike how they practice their religion, we need to recognize that under American law and the biblical demand to love your neighbor as yourself, they have a right to their view. We dare not interfere with them or belittle them unless they harm others, which they certainly do not do.
The book A Fortress in Brooklyn: Race, Real Estate, and the Making of Hasidic Williamsburg detailed the growth of Satmar in Brooklyn after World War 2. Under the leadership of the Satmar Rebbe, they were able to change without changing, and regrow into one of the most potent political and religious groups in New York State.
In American Shtetl: The Making of Kiryas Joel, a Hasidic village in Upstate New York (Princeton University Press), authors Nomi Stolzenberg (Professor of law at the USC Gould School of Law) and David Myers (Professor - Jewish History at UCLA), continue the story of A Fortress in Brooklyn and head about 60 miles north of Williamsburg to Kiryas Joel, New York.
Eli Spitzer asks in The Specter of Satmar, how did a small Transylvanian movement become the most powerful player in worldwide ultra-Orthodoxy? He writes that Satmar’s status as the alpha male of Orthodoxy is all the more striking because it grew so rapidly from almost nothing. In pre-war Europe, Satmar was a small fledgling offshoot of the more prestigious Sighet dynasty. Most of that world, in any case, was destroyed in the Holocaust.
Afterward, the first Satmar Rebbe, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, came to America in 1946 with no money and few followers in the wake of a brief and unsuccessful stint in Jerusalem. In Williamsburg, he set about rebuilding his community from scratch, establishing himself as the leader of the lucky few Hungarian-Jewish refugees who had fled the slaughter that followed the German occupation in 1944. There, Rabbi Teitelbaum took the forlorn and devastated survivors of the greatest disaster in modern Jewish history and forged them into the most dynamic Jewish movement of the post-war era.
Stolzenberg and Myers have written an engaging and extremely well-researched history of the growth and development of Kiryas Joel. In some ways, it is the story of the pinnacle of the American dream, while the very nature of the community abhorred much of what the American dream stood for.
Started by a small group of Satmar Hasidim who wanted to escape the concrete jungle of Brooklyn, the story of Kiryas Joel is a story that is contradictory. The Satmar Hasidim of Williamsburg wanted to create an enclave where they could live without the distractions and negative influences of secular society. However, creating that village meant they had to use every aspect of secular legal and political power under the gun.
While much of the success of Satmar in developing Kiryas Joel was due to suave legal and political maneuvering, the growing receptivity of anti-assimilationist and anti-integrationist in the US in the late 1960s and early 1970s was undoubtedly a providential gift in favor of Satmar. The book shows how conservative forms of religious and economic libertarianism, as well as the liberal notion of communitarianism, contributed to the creation of a legal environment that was hospitable to the project of Kiryas Joel as a homogeneous and strictly orthodox religious community.
The brilliance of Satmar might be their ability to align their self-preservation with external authorities with cultural norms drawn from the outside world; without internalizing those norms into their own self-understanding. Satmars have learned the rules of American interest-group politics without declaring any intent to join that game. Furthermore, in the process, they developed tools to be effective participants in local and state elections, to influence politicians, and even to form and run their own local government.
Lord Acton noted that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and it was only a matter of time that would cause strictures in Kiryas Joel. The authors write of tactics the Kiryas Joel administrators used to stop dissident groups within Kiryas Joel, such as the Bnei Yoel faction. These tactics were almost identical to those used by the Monroe Township authorities to stop the founders of Kiryas Joel.
When the Satmar Rebbe came to the United States after World War 2, little did he know that his community would be involved in a case that would reach the United States Supreme Court that would be one of the most significant Constitutional law cases of its time. The case of Board of Education of Kiryas Joel Village School District v. Grumet came about due to the need of the growing Kiryas Joel residents for special education services for their children.
What was unique about the case and the need for a school with special education services is that the emergence of a disability rights consciousness in the Satmar community stands as one of the most notable instances of the absorption of modern American cultural attitudes into Satmar life. At the time, these modern attitudes were as new to mainstream America as they were to the Satmars.
So why would two academics, far from the Satmar camp, write a book about the development of a Satmar enclave? They write that Kiryas Joel is an especially fascinating manifestation of American identity politics and that the community of Kiryas Joel is a quintessentially American phenomenon.
Much of the success of Kiryas Joel has to do with mazel, and the book details the extensive mazel Satmar had in the development of Kiryas Joel. Much of it has to do with timing, and the creation of Kiryas Joel started during a time of significant US government change. Satmar benefited greatly from the fact that the years between the New Deal and the 1970s, the American political system took on a new shape, in which power was redistributed among federal, state, and local governments in a way that empowered them all.
On one side, Kiryas Joel is the definition of self-segregation. However, it only got there due to the assimilation of core aspects of American society, culture, and law. That story almost goes against common sense. But the tale of Kiryas Joel is an intriguing one, as detailed in this fascinating book.
A detailed and insightful history of one of our most fascinating places. I think they do a wonderful job situating KJ in the larger sweep of Jewish history, going back to Europe, and a great job of humanizing a community that appears so hard to grasp the individual characters of (because of its foreignness, yes, but also its emphasis on homogeneity and insularity). I learned a lot and thought a lot.
My main critique is that they are slightly too friendly to KJ in ways that undermine their own thesis. I think they, in the service of not judging or othering the community, downplay the extent of violence in the community, and of potentially extensive fraud (some caught, some rumored). But if their goal is to understand the options for relating religious and secular power, and the Satmar's use and fears of the secular state, these are essential. Understanding what it means to incorporate is very different if you use the secular state as the monopoly of violence or if you use extra-legal violence as a primary enforcer against dissidents. Likewise, how we should read the community's use of the American legal system is, I think, different if there is a broader effort to manipulate public benefits, state/federal spending, etc. It starts to look much more like a purely instrumental use of the secular state, and less like a "render unto Caesar" approach. Since these are the debates the authors are tracking, I think they do a disservice by not engaging with the unseemlier aspects of KJ.
Maybe I'm just not interested in contemporary Satmar enough to read three books about it within a year, having already read A Fortress in Brooklyn and Hidden Heretics. Of the three, this one is of the least interest.
Which isn't to say that it's a bad book.
The husband-wife duo who write the book have different interests that manifest in the different focuses of different chapters. Some are mainly about history, and of this, a good deal of it is context to the creation of Kiryas Joel, with an entire chapter about Satmar in Europe and quite a bit about Satmar in Brooklyn as well. Other chapters are mostly about law, and the ways that a Jewish village has created all sorts of interesting applications of American law.
In the history section, the authors reach a similar thesis to that of the authors of A Fortress in Brooklyn: that it takes a whole lot of the liberal, culturally pluralistic and minority-celebrating American Dream mentality to understand the success of the Satmar community in America, and much of their communal success lives inside the contradictions of that reality.
I think A Fortress in Brooklyn explores this thesis with more relevant supporting topics and analyses.
The latter sections of American Shtetl are more novel and original than the historical sections. They're also quite technical for someone not expecting to read a book designed more for reading in a law school department than a history department.
Did not finish because someone else has a hold on it at the library next.
The idea of a town founded on, and populated by, unstinting adherence to centuries old religious norms may bring to mind a rural idyll, it's inhabitants engaged in traditional agricultural pursuits whilst devoted to the most pious expressions of their faith. Yet Kiryas Joel is a densely populated town, residents living in multi storey apartment blocks with large families occupying two and three bedroom units. In a sort of "worst of both worlds" scenario, there is no connection to God in creation, and no benefits of modernity and city life, no outlets for individuality or creativity. Not only are TV and unfettered internet access forbidden but so are reading non religious texts, listening to music, all forms of entertainment and speaking English at home. Yet most residents seem at least content; at the least, few townspeople leave the community.
Although residents would be stridently discouraged from speaking to outsiders, I was very curious to find out what the lives of Kiryas Joel residents are really like. But you wouldn't find out from this book, which largely recounts the endless court cases and New York laws related to the town.
This book is about not only the formation of Kiryas Joel, but also the litigation that led to the formation of its school district and its gradual evolution towards political independence from neighboring towns. For me, the most interesting part of the book was its discussion of the various factions within Kiryas Joel. I had always thought of Satmar Hasidim as sort of a homogenous mass (at least before the split between two rival rebbes in recent decades). But in fact, there had been multiple factions within Kiryas Joel for decades; for example, a group of dissidents opposed the creation of the Kiryas Joel school district, fearing that the creation of a public school district would lead to more interference from higher levels of government.
The differing interests of the authors is very present in this book. Honestly, it reads like two separate books on the same topic, With one book about history and the other about law. About halfway through there is a distinct turn from easy to read history into complicated legal discussions, that sorta lost me to be honest. It was a good book though, i though their was a well-researched and nuanced perspective on the community, and it is worth the read if you can tolerate difficult court room scenes.
A very well researched and detailed telling of a true American story. I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to understand how a group of people who wish to practice their religious and cultural beliefs, without assimilating into the surrounding established culture, are able to create their own town with their own rules. This would not have been possible, however, if it were not for the systems and laws set into place outside of their own tight-knit, closed community, and the law makers who helped to achieve their goals.
Very well researched and has a pretty interesting point about the paradoxical use of secular politics and law by the Satmar to protect themselves from the intrusion of those same things, but the back half of the book is mostly just the details of extended court battles. As these goes on you start swimming in names and wondering if this could've been made shorter. It also doesn't touch on their relations with the gentile population of Orange County as much as I'd like, especially in more recent years.
This book addresses not only the particular circumstances of Kiriyas Joel, but a wider and well articulated analysis of the tension between the free expression and establishment clauses of the Constitution. It is a well-researched and insightful study of a key element of American law and culture.
Author's contention is that this community can only have happened in America. Its founders and dissenters used legal tools (200 pages of the decades of legal proceedings) to establish and extend a religious community. Interesting and long.
Fascinating examination of well organized minority group using American freedoms to escape from America. Intersects religion and law. Not an easy read but worth the work. Particularly interesting in light of current religious/secular divide in Israel.
So much longer than it needed to be - the research and context are great, but the authors’ insistence on connecting back constantly to a thesis was more suited to an academic paper than a book. Still, enjoyed the history, political analysis + complement this provided to A Fortress in Brooklyn.