What do you think?
Rate this book
Prisoner without a Name, Cell without a Number
The bestselling, classic personal chronicle of the Argentine publisher's ordeal at the hands of the Argentine government--imprisoned and tortured as a dissenter and as a Jew--that aroused the conscience of the world.
Jacobo Timerman (1923-1999) was born in the Ukraine, moved with his family to Argentina in 1928, and was deported to Israel in 1980. He returned to Argentina in 1984. Founder of two Argentine weekly news magazines in the 1960s and a commentator on radio and television, he was best-known as the publisher and editor of the newspaper La Opinión from 1971 until his arrest in 1977. An outspoken champion of human rights and freedom of the press, he criticized all repressive governments and organizations, regardless of their political ideologies. His other books include The Longest War: Israel in Lebanon, Cuba: A Journey, and Chile: A Death in the South.
The Americas, Ilan Stavans, Series Editor
Jacobo Timerman (1923-1999) was born in the Ukraine, moved with his family to Argentina in 1928, and was deported to Israel in 1980. He returned to Argentina in 1984. Founder of two Argentine weekly news magazines in the 1960s and a commentator on radio and television, he was best-known as the publisher and editor of the newspaper La Opinión from 1971 until his arrest in 1977. An outspoken champion of human rights and freedom of the press, he criticized all repressive governments and organizations, regardless of their political ideologies. His other books include The Longest War: Israel in Lebanon, Cuba: A Journey, and Chile: A Death in the South.
The Americas, Ilan Stavans, Series Editor
Winner of a 1982 Los Angeles Times Book Prize
Selected by the New York Times for "Books of the Century"
With a new introduction by Ilan Stavans and a new foreword by Arthur Miller.
184 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1980
About the author
Jacobo Timerman
18 books10 followersJacobo Timerman was born in the Ukraine, moved with his family to Argentina in 1928, and was deported to Israel in 1980. He returned to Argentina in 1984. Founder of two Argentine weekly newsmagazines in the 1960s and a commentator on radio and television, he was best known as the publisher and editor of the newspaper La Opinión from 1971 until his arrest in 1977. An outspoken champion of human rights and freedom of the press, he criticized all repressive governments and organizations, regardless of their political ideologies.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 63 reviews
February 14, 2009
Good grief, I could not finish this short book fast enough. I thought it would be about the experience of a prisoner under Argentina's dictatorship. Wrong. That becomes nearly a side story, allowing Timerman to expound upon anti-Semitism and Zionism.
Had the book actually been about being a prisoner, I would have found it much more rewarding. The passages that do deal with it are extremely well-written and both extremely disturbing and enlightening. The depiction of a dehumanizing system is very important reading.
However, I had a hard time with his theorizing. The way he easily threw around terms like fascist, communist, terrorist, nazi, etc., was irresponsible and un-analytical. The self-righteousness that he always had the right answer and understood the correct path put me off.
Finally, there was the major role Zionism played in the book. Timerman clearly believed anti-Semitism was universal and inevitable and that the solution was Zionism. I don't discount how horrific anti-Semitism is, nor the anti-Semitic nature of the Argentinian regime, but Zionism is not the answer. The moral superiority he places in a movement that destroyed and ethnically-cleansed the Palestinian people is intolerable. The tragic irony is that while he was writing about his experiences with torture in his new Tel Aviv home, Palestinians were being tortured in similar ways by Israel - the very Zionist project he so ardently supported.
Had the book actually been about being a prisoner, I would have found it much more rewarding. The passages that do deal with it are extremely well-written and both extremely disturbing and enlightening. The depiction of a dehumanizing system is very important reading.
However, I had a hard time with his theorizing. The way he easily threw around terms like fascist, communist, terrorist, nazi, etc., was irresponsible and un-analytical. The self-righteousness that he always had the right answer and understood the correct path put me off.
Finally, there was the major role Zionism played in the book. Timerman clearly believed anti-Semitism was universal and inevitable and that the solution was Zionism. I don't discount how horrific anti-Semitism is, nor the anti-Semitic nature of the Argentinian regime, but Zionism is not the answer. The moral superiority he places in a movement that destroyed and ethnically-cleansed the Palestinian people is intolerable. The tragic irony is that while he was writing about his experiences with torture in his new Tel Aviv home, Palestinians were being tortured in similar ways by Israel - the very Zionist project he so ardently supported.
November 7, 2010
As the publisher of one of the few domestic newspapers to openly criticize the violence of both the left and the right in 1970s Argentina, Jacobo Timerman was a marked man. Detained without charge by the military junta in 1977 and held in clandestine concentration camps until his sudden release and deportation to Israel in 1979, Timerman was subjected to extensive physical torture as well as the psychological trauma of isolation cells, humiliation at the hands of his captors, and ongoing uncertainty over his fate and that of his family and peers. Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number is a poignant and poetic memoir of Timerman's rapid descent from being a well-known public figure to a nameless and hidden victim of the 1976-1983 military junta's oppression, but also an exploration of the societal passivity that permits totalitarianism to take hold.
Timerman's book gives a unique take on this complicated country. Though he began life as an immigrant, Timerman rose to a place among Argentina's intelligentsia. As a journalist, he enjoyed access to the nation's elites and to the corridors of power. As a detainee, he acknowledges a certain level of special treatment (few others had the celebrity of Timerman, which even led members of the junta and foreign governments to intervene on his behalf). But Timerman did not escape the sadistic nature of the regime, and he gives a measured account of the torture applied to him and his fellow political prisoners.
Parallel to this narrative, Timerman also explores wider psychological and political themes. He writes eloquently of the sense of asphyxiation as all rational paths for resolving the political impasse confronting Argentina in the mid 1970s were closed off by the extremes (especially the right's fervent mission to restore order by any means). Chapter Five is particularly effective at conveying the dwindling space for reason in those tumultuous days, and is a valuable perspective for anyone seeking to understand the onset of the dictatorship.
Timerman also explores the prisoner's condition, ruminating on the themes of hope, memory, and prisoner-captor relations. His insights are chilling: "Memory is the chief enemy of the solitary tortured man", "Aside from suicide, there's one other temptation—madness", "Hope is something that belongs to the interrogator rather than the prisoner. The interrogator always seems to feel that he can succeed in modifying the will of the interrogated."
Another prominent theme of the book is the well-documented anti-Semitism of the Argentine junta. The regime emulated many aspects of the Nazi machine, from an ideological obsession with rooting out the "enemy within" to the institutionalization of concentration camps and extermination as state policy. While the junta considered many groups suspect and targeted many sectors of society ruthlessly, Jews were often singled out for special humiliation and persecution by the regime. Timerman describes the repeated interrogations of his faith and his presumed ulterior motives as a Jew. In a passage at the heart of Chapter Nine, he relays the barrage of questions directed at him during his appearance at a military tribunal on an unspecified charge. Timerman details the impossibility of fitting the complexities of his life and views—his immigrant childhood, his burgeoning political awareness, his dalliance with Socialism and commitment to Zionism, his opposition to Perónism and Stalinism, his firm beliefs in a free press, the rule of law, the necessity of avoiding the temptation to use totalitarian tactics to counter perceived subversion—into tidy responses for the binary questions of his interrogators, who simply seek verbal confirmation of their position that he is a Zionist who is part of an international conspiracy to undermine Argentina. His captors inform him that World War III has begun, that Argentina is the vanguard in thwarting left-wing terrorism, that Jews have a hand in the anti-Argentine campaign that threatens to undermine the war effort. Timerman is bemused but not altogether surprised by this pastiche of conspiracy theories, ideological fervor, and deep-seated discrimination—what he terms "hatred transformed into fantasy"—masquerading as an organizing principle for society. After all, we've seen this before.
Writing after his release and expulsion from Argentina to Israel, a country he barely knows, Timerman dedicates much of Chapter Eleven to asserting his view that the then ongoing Argentine dictatorship demonstrated that the world had learned nothing from the Holocaust. Both were permeated by the same silence from the majority, the same political accommodations with totalitarian intolerance, the same terror visited upon scapegoat minorities. As Timerman notes in a passage describing the period not long before the coup,
It is this broader discussion—of the public passivity which can pave the way to totalitarianism—that elevates this book from a tale of one man's torture at the hands of a distant dictatorship, to a work with continuing resonance in our current era and those yet to come.
Timerman's book gives a unique take on this complicated country. Though he began life as an immigrant, Timerman rose to a place among Argentina's intelligentsia. As a journalist, he enjoyed access to the nation's elites and to the corridors of power. As a detainee, he acknowledges a certain level of special treatment (few others had the celebrity of Timerman, which even led members of the junta and foreign governments to intervene on his behalf). But Timerman did not escape the sadistic nature of the regime, and he gives a measured account of the torture applied to him and his fellow political prisoners.
Parallel to this narrative, Timerman also explores wider psychological and political themes. He writes eloquently of the sense of asphyxiation as all rational paths for resolving the political impasse confronting Argentina in the mid 1970s were closed off by the extremes (especially the right's fervent mission to restore order by any means). Chapter Five is particularly effective at conveying the dwindling space for reason in those tumultuous days, and is a valuable perspective for anyone seeking to understand the onset of the dictatorship.
Timerman also explores the prisoner's condition, ruminating on the themes of hope, memory, and prisoner-captor relations. His insights are chilling: "Memory is the chief enemy of the solitary tortured man", "Aside from suicide, there's one other temptation—madness", "Hope is something that belongs to the interrogator rather than the prisoner. The interrogator always seems to feel that he can succeed in modifying the will of the interrogated."
Another prominent theme of the book is the well-documented anti-Semitism of the Argentine junta. The regime emulated many aspects of the Nazi machine, from an ideological obsession with rooting out the "enemy within" to the institutionalization of concentration camps and extermination as state policy. While the junta considered many groups suspect and targeted many sectors of society ruthlessly, Jews were often singled out for special humiliation and persecution by the regime. Timerman describes the repeated interrogations of his faith and his presumed ulterior motives as a Jew. In a passage at the heart of Chapter Nine, he relays the barrage of questions directed at him during his appearance at a military tribunal on an unspecified charge. Timerman details the impossibility of fitting the complexities of his life and views—his immigrant childhood, his burgeoning political awareness, his dalliance with Socialism and commitment to Zionism, his opposition to Perónism and Stalinism, his firm beliefs in a free press, the rule of law, the necessity of avoiding the temptation to use totalitarian tactics to counter perceived subversion—into tidy responses for the binary questions of his interrogators, who simply seek verbal confirmation of their position that he is a Zionist who is part of an international conspiracy to undermine Argentina. His captors inform him that World War III has begun, that Argentina is the vanguard in thwarting left-wing terrorism, that Jews have a hand in the anti-Argentine campaign that threatens to undermine the war effort. Timerman is bemused but not altogether surprised by this pastiche of conspiracy theories, ideological fervor, and deep-seated discrimination—what he terms "hatred transformed into fantasy"—masquerading as an organizing principle for society. After all, we've seen this before.
Writing after his release and expulsion from Argentina to Israel, a country he barely knows, Timerman dedicates much of Chapter Eleven to asserting his view that the then ongoing Argentine dictatorship demonstrated that the world had learned nothing from the Holocaust. Both were permeated by the same silence from the majority, the same political accommodations with totalitarian intolerance, the same terror visited upon scapegoat minorities. As Timerman notes in a passage describing the period not long before the coup,
What there was, from the start, was the great silence, which appears in every civilized country that passively accepts the inevitability of violence, and then the fear that suddenly befalls it. That silence which can transform any nation into an accomplice.
It is this broader discussion—of the public passivity which can pave the way to totalitarianism—that elevates this book from a tale of one man's torture at the hands of a distant dictatorship, to a work with continuing resonance in our current era and those yet to come.
July 19, 2016
‘Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number’ is not the book I was expecting. It has the reputation of being a lyrical account of being a political prisoner and torture victim, and I had in mind that it would be an impressionistic, almost ‘magic realism’ style narrative. Instead it is much more prosaic and analytical, which, given Jacobo Timerman’s journalistic background (he was arrested for his editing and writing for the daily ‘La Opinión’) is what I should have expected.
Nevertheless this is an important and useful book for anyone looking at the history of Argentina’s ‘dirty war’ of the 1970s. Timerman is far from a radical leftist when he is arrested by the dictatorship of General Jorge Rafael Videla. He frequently criticised what he called ‘Fascists of the Left and Right’ together, and he was no fan of the leftist guerrilla group the Montoneros. At one point Timerman actually editorialised for a sort of partial military coup - in which the Argentine Congress would pass ‘extraordinary legislation’ so that the army could combat terror. The liberal Peronist politician to whom he put this proposition responded ‘once we allow the military to step through the door, they’ll take possession of the entire house’. Timerman must have realised the accuracy of this prediction given the amount of time he spends in the rest of the book dissecting the anti-Semitic, anti-democratic beliefs of his torturers, just as they were deeply interested in his Jewishness and his liberal Zionist outlook.
Calling the military ‘Fascist’ is not just a term of political abuse. Timerman found they had a fully worked out anti-Semitic ideology. The most elaborate definition in the book is as follows: ‘Argentina has three main enemies: Karl Marx, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of society; Sigmund Freud because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of the family; and Albert Einstein, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of time and space’. The Argentine military ideologues believed they were already involved in World War III, but unlike the Nazis they would win. Timerman spends much of the book discussing why Jews feature so prominently in such demonising world-views, and he reaches explicitly Zionist conclusions about why the Jewish people need their own state. Timerman felt let down by the Diaspora Jewish community of Argentina itself, and after he was freed he moved to Israel (although his son Hector Timerman remains a prominent Argentine politician).
Other Goodreads reviewers are a bit put off by Timerman’s outright proselytising for Zionism, however it worth bearing in mind that in Israel he became a major critic of its government. In 1982 he wrote a book called ‘The Longest War: Israel's Invasion of Lebanon’ which was extremely negative about that invasion. He also publicly compared Israeli government policies toward Palestinians to Apartheid in South Africa. Timerman never forgot that the Argentine military dictatorship, even at its most anti-Semitic, remained an ally of the US. His criticism of the Reagan administration’s distinction between ‘authoritarian’ supportable regimes (Argentina), and ‘totalitarian’ (Communist) regimes meant he got attacked by right-wing US critics such as William Buckley, Norman Podhoretz, and Irving Kristol.
The book is short, but packs in a lot of information. At his best Timerman matches the political analysis with strong sense of what it feels like to experience total confinement and isolation. He was tempted by suicide and often doubted his own sanity. But as another prisoner said to him: ‘Don Jacobo, keep going. That’s the important thing, not to let them knock you down. If you keep going, everything will someday be resolved’.
Nevertheless this is an important and useful book for anyone looking at the history of Argentina’s ‘dirty war’ of the 1970s. Timerman is far from a radical leftist when he is arrested by the dictatorship of General Jorge Rafael Videla. He frequently criticised what he called ‘Fascists of the Left and Right’ together, and he was no fan of the leftist guerrilla group the Montoneros. At one point Timerman actually editorialised for a sort of partial military coup - in which the Argentine Congress would pass ‘extraordinary legislation’ so that the army could combat terror. The liberal Peronist politician to whom he put this proposition responded ‘once we allow the military to step through the door, they’ll take possession of the entire house’. Timerman must have realised the accuracy of this prediction given the amount of time he spends in the rest of the book dissecting the anti-Semitic, anti-democratic beliefs of his torturers, just as they were deeply interested in his Jewishness and his liberal Zionist outlook.
Calling the military ‘Fascist’ is not just a term of political abuse. Timerman found they had a fully worked out anti-Semitic ideology. The most elaborate definition in the book is as follows: ‘Argentina has three main enemies: Karl Marx, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of society; Sigmund Freud because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of the family; and Albert Einstein, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of time and space’. The Argentine military ideologues believed they were already involved in World War III, but unlike the Nazis they would win. Timerman spends much of the book discussing why Jews feature so prominently in such demonising world-views, and he reaches explicitly Zionist conclusions about why the Jewish people need their own state. Timerman felt let down by the Diaspora Jewish community of Argentina itself, and after he was freed he moved to Israel (although his son Hector Timerman remains a prominent Argentine politician).
Other Goodreads reviewers are a bit put off by Timerman’s outright proselytising for Zionism, however it worth bearing in mind that in Israel he became a major critic of its government. In 1982 he wrote a book called ‘The Longest War: Israel's Invasion of Lebanon’ which was extremely negative about that invasion. He also publicly compared Israeli government policies toward Palestinians to Apartheid in South Africa. Timerman never forgot that the Argentine military dictatorship, even at its most anti-Semitic, remained an ally of the US. His criticism of the Reagan administration’s distinction between ‘authoritarian’ supportable regimes (Argentina), and ‘totalitarian’ (Communist) regimes meant he got attacked by right-wing US critics such as William Buckley, Norman Podhoretz, and Irving Kristol.
The book is short, but packs in a lot of information. At his best Timerman matches the political analysis with strong sense of what it feels like to experience total confinement and isolation. He was tempted by suicide and often doubted his own sanity. But as another prisoner said to him: ‘Don Jacobo, keep going. That’s the important thing, not to let them knock you down. If you keep going, everything will someday be resolved’.
May 6, 2015
Jacobo Timerman tells the shocking story of his imprisonment and torture in Argentina in the late 70s interweaving it with reflections from his perspective as the owner and editor of an argentine newspaper that struggled to maintain some integrity as Argentina sank deeper and deeper into totalitarianism. Timerman's ordeal reveals how frighteningly close to the surface old hatreds lie. Thus antisemitism appears like the mythological hydra. Cutting off one head leads only to more growing if the climate is right. I was very ignorant of this history though I had at least heard of Peron. Evita ensures his name lives on. Timerman repeatedly reminds the reader that turning a blind eye in the face of abuse and injustice is tantamount to condoning the abuse.a compelling and important read.
January 22, 2017
As an Argentinian, I am deeply interested in the history of the dirty war, but ultimately this book didn't deliver and I couldn't finish.
I thought the narrative was rambling. He would jump from topic to topic without transition and I could never really follow. I did learn a few things a long the way and he does have really poignant and compelling scenes.
I thought the narrative was rambling. He would jump from topic to topic without transition and I could never really follow. I did learn a few things a long the way and he does have really poignant and compelling scenes.
April 3, 2010
This is unlike any other political prisoner's memoir I've ever read -- not that I've read many, perhaps five -- in that Timerman was an actual political activist and not just an ordinary person who got swept up in the ever-rising tide of persecution. The setting is Argentina but, as Timerman himself pointed out, his story could just as easily have taken place in Soviet Russia or Nazi Germany or any of scores of other countries.
I enjoyed this and it really made me think, but it's not for everyone. It's not written in chronological order; Timerman skipped around quite a lot, at times describing the tortures he went through, at times talking about the anti-fascist newspaper he founded which lead to his imprisonment, at times reflecting on the state of Argentina and what leads an entire country to behave this way. Timerman was Jewish and believed he was imprisoned in large part because of that, so he spent many pages talking about anti-Semitism in Argentina.
I think this would be a good book for people wanting to learn recent Argentine history, as that is a topic examined at length. I really admired Timerman for taking a stand, knowing full well just what he was getting into, but doing it anyway because someone had to. But if you're simply looking for a book on what it's like to be a political prisoner, there are better ones out there for that.
I enjoyed this and it really made me think, but it's not for everyone. It's not written in chronological order; Timerman skipped around quite a lot, at times describing the tortures he went through, at times talking about the anti-fascist newspaper he founded which lead to his imprisonment, at times reflecting on the state of Argentina and what leads an entire country to behave this way. Timerman was Jewish and believed he was imprisoned in large part because of that, so he spent many pages talking about anti-Semitism in Argentina.
I think this would be a good book for people wanting to learn recent Argentine history, as that is a topic examined at length. I really admired Timerman for taking a stand, knowing full well just what he was getting into, but doing it anyway because someone had to. But if you're simply looking for a book on what it's like to be a political prisoner, there are better ones out there for that.
January 24, 2013
This is a harrowing trip thru the political and social meltdown that was Argentina in the 70s as Timerman recounts the torture he endured in a number of Argentina prisons. Timerman is a journalist and articulates well the completely irrational excesses of the dirty war that got him arrested but never charged. It's also a pretty good description of the political realities, anti semitism and general chaotic mafiosi corruption that has plagued the nation since Peron. Timerman's historical perspective and breadth of knowledge, as well as his more or less political objectivity (he was really a voice of moderation in a country that had completely lost its political center and fallen prey to the violent blackmail coming from left and right) makes this a particularly valuable book considering the subject matter. He's also a controversial figure and one can't be completely sure there is total transparency here as he is connected to generals, presidents, left wing guerrillas etc. But what major journalist would not have such connections at such a time? Worth a read for any student of Argentina.
December 3, 2015
It may sound pompous or some such to say it, but this is an important book. There is only one portion I didn't like, a military trial intercut with musings, and perhaps that was meant to meander and go on for too long simply to mirror the trial itself. Besides that, everything was to my liking, though I can't say I exactly enjoyed it. The events relayed are painful, even with the intentional sparseness and deadpan tone, and it is a book that isn't thought-provoking so much as question-provoking. How does mindless, irrational, destructive hate work? How close am I or my society or those I know to unspeakable acts, throwing away human rights, "following orders"? What would or could one do in the face of a society bent on simultaneous terrible actions and numbing obliviousness?
This book, and probably no one, has the answers to the questions it raises. But they must be raised, and the author's experience must be told, and that is why this book is important.
This book, and probably no one, has the answers to the questions it raises. But they must be raised, and the author's experience must be told, and that is why this book is important.
May 2, 2008
This biography by a Jewish Argentinian journalist tells the story of how it feels to be a prisoner during the military regime in Argentina (1977). This book is powerful regardless of when and where this happened, since it reminds us about the universal human tendency to justify oppression, torture and homicide for what a regime perceives as self defense and actions taken for the greater good. Very evocative of the justifications for war provided by the current administration to invade Iraq and torture potential 'enemy combatants.' Timerman doesn't provide much detail about torture techniques as much as how the torture is aimed at stripping a person of his identity and hope.
July 31, 2009
Part essay and part narrative (no prisoner to form), a mind-breaking and heart-hurting account that addresses authoritarianism, anti-semitism and the Argentine soul with equal attention and convinces the reader of the common tragedy of those apparently diverse strands. And in his treatment of the political, Timerman doesn't neglect personal and psychological explorations from the interior of his cell, musing on madness, suicide and tenderness. Devastating and outstanding.
April 1, 2012
This is a stunning, brief, moving description of existing in solitary confinement. Written by a newspaper publisher, captured during unrest in Argentina. Fascinating for the glimpse into South American political history. Wrenching and illuminating on the nature of identity and compassion.
February 21, 2009
AMAZING account of the Dirty War, very depressing, but WELL worth the read! Timerman's writing style was really engaging, loved it.
Want to read
September 10, 2013I'm interested in this because Christopher Hitchens mentions it in his memoir. He had been in Argentina when Timerman was imprisoned and tried to reach him.
January 28, 2021
Jacobo Timerman's memoir provides a harrowing account of his time spent as a prisoner of the Argentinian military dictatorship. He describes the horrors of torture and solitary confinement and sketches out Argentinia's peculiar political landscape in the later 1970's. Perhaps the major theme though is the prevalence of anti-Semitism in his country - an ideology upon which all the warring political factions seem to be able to agree, despite the disparate manifestations of Jew hatred in their ways of thinking.
Thus, Timerman reproduces the following definition, given by reactionary elements within the military, who describe what they are fighting against: "Argentina has three main enemies: Karl Marx, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of society; Sigmund Freud, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of the family; and Albert Einstein, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of time and space."
Timerman is right to add that these hallucinations speak of "a desire to revert to the society of the middle ages." Here, we encounter what I believe is a central preoccupation for the anti-Semite: The identification of some undesirable element of modernity with the Jewish people (and outstanding Jewish personas), who are alleged to be responsible for subverting an harmonious, organic society by sowing seeds of doubt. Timerman's analysis, informed by his personal experiences, is certainly worth the read.
Thus, Timerman reproduces the following definition, given by reactionary elements within the military, who describe what they are fighting against: "Argentina has three main enemies: Karl Marx, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of society; Sigmund Freud, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of the family; and Albert Einstein, because he tried to destroy the Christian concept of time and space."
Timerman is right to add that these hallucinations speak of "a desire to revert to the society of the middle ages." Here, we encounter what I believe is a central preoccupation for the anti-Semite: The identification of some undesirable element of modernity with the Jewish people (and outstanding Jewish personas), who are alleged to be responsible for subverting an harmonious, organic society by sowing seeds of doubt. Timerman's analysis, informed by his personal experiences, is certainly worth the read.
May 20, 2022
If being a political prisoner under an anti-communist regime was sufficient to earn your literary stripes and sympathy for your cause this slim tome by the Jewish Argentine journalist would take its place alongside ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF IVAN Desinovich. Imprisoned by the highly anti-semitic military regime in Argentina that waged the Dirty War (1976-1982) on its own citizens, Timerman found zero solidarity from his fellow Argentine Jews, the American Jewish community or the state of Israel. Only his pre-detention fame saved him from execution, and this memoir from oblivion. A must-read for all those who want a glimpse of what the Western side resorted to during the Cold War.
Shelved as 'dnf'
June 3, 2023
May 9, 2021
The best book I’ve read in awhile. If I were to highlight my favorite quotes, three-quarters of the book would be highlighted. I frequently found myself having to pause to really *think* about what I was reading—not because it was confusing, but because the subject matter was so thought-provoking.
If you don’t want to read about politics, you might find yourself a little bored sometimes. It’s pretty back-and-forth between his experiences as a prisoner and his thoughts and retellings of the political events that have occurred up to his kidnapping. If you don’t mind it, though, I think it is well worth the read.
Bottom line, this book has probably made it to my top-5 and I will be recommending it to people for years to come.
If you don’t want to read about politics, you might find yourself a little bored sometimes. It’s pretty back-and-forth between his experiences as a prisoner and his thoughts and retellings of the political events that have occurred up to his kidnapping. If you don’t mind it, though, I think it is well worth the read.
Bottom line, this book has probably made it to my top-5 and I will be recommending it to people for years to come.
Read
April 19, 2023The opening chapter of this sets the terms in very stark detail. Jacobo Timerman is in an Argentinian prison that is too cramped to sleep in. And he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, what with the constantly wet floor, no real blanket (or a dry one at that) and no bathroom. There's little contact with the outside world, except for some bare and limited exchanges with guards. From this opening, we learn more about his imprisonment. Born in Ukraine and with connections to Israel, Timerman has been working in the Argentina as a newspaper publisher. He's not all that Left when it comes down to it, but he's also imbued with a sense of honesty and integrity where even in the face of a political tribunal he tells the truth, refuses to hide facts about himself or his publication and refuses to not call mistreatment and authoritarian nonsense when he sees. One memorable moment comes when in court when he's presented with the nonsensical and dishonest authoritarian logic (where guilt might be surmised from a too innocent seeming position) that their opinions and arguments are childish. He's also certain, with evidence, that his imprisonment is more connected to his Judaism than it is his publication.
This last fact might also be his only salvation, as his connection to Israel makes him more difficult to disappear. The memoir tells his story, while also taking on the story of Argentina from the 1940s-1970s, a story that is complicated in event, but not entirely in fact. It's a remarkably brave book and we're for that, but it's also a lucky book. There's no particular reason he should have survived this imprisonment.
This last fact might also be his only salvation, as his connection to Israel makes him more difficult to disappear. The memoir tells his story, while also taking on the story of Argentina from the 1940s-1970s, a story that is complicated in event, but not entirely in fact. It's a remarkably brave book and we're for that, but it's also a lucky book. There's no particular reason he should have survived this imprisonment.
September 6, 2023
This important story is undermined by mediocre writing and a ridiculously poor editing. Between shocking scenes of torture and injustice and rambling accounts of Argentinean history, Timerman discusses politics and ideology in such a heavy-handed way as to make me question the veracity of the book.
June 17, 2018
Bearing witness in mediocre form.
November 9, 2023
Preso Sin Nombre, Celda Sin Número (Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number) was a unique yet distressing read. The assignment for my history class was to read a memoir or testimonial book about Modern Latin America, and I chose this one after doing some research on Jacobo Timerman and Argentina’s 1976-81 dictatorship.
Some of the chapters are just what you would expect after reading the back cover—accounts of unjust imprisonment, physical torture, humiliation, lack of hygiene or any rights whatsoever, and immense suffering. Timerman, who was one of the most prolific and influential journalists at the time, and among the very few willing to publish pieces that were critical of the regime, tells his story of being transported back and forth between illegal military prisons and torture sites, witnessing the many victims of Jorge Videla being wrongfully detained and later murdered, and the chaos that reigned everywhere in the country during Argentina’s most authoritarian and destructive decade.
Nonetheless, many of the chapters are explanations of Timerman’s political ideology and commentary on political affairs. (Many ideas which I disagree with, yet I admire and appreciate.) In those chapters you can see who he truly was, and the deep convictions he held, which guided his actions as the director of one of the largest newspapers in the country and one of the faces of the regime’s opposition. In addition, as a Jew and one of the main voices against antisemitism in Argentina at that time, he accounts all of the antisemitic attacks he received while imprisoned and throughout his life. Timerman argues that many of Videla’s policies resembled those of Nazi Germany and other fascist regimes, and Videla was successful in convincing most of the population, as we’ve seen on other occasions throughout history, that the population’s perils were caused by Jews attempting to dominate the country and steal its resources.
Timerman’s is an unlikely story, as his fate went against all odds, and he was eventually liberated after several years of wrongful imprisonment, and forced to flee to Israel, where he published this book. If I had to take with me just one lesson from this book, it would be action. As he argues in his memoir, fascism and antisemitism will not just disappear by their own agency. Standing up, speaking up, and resisting is the only way of making society more fair and just.
Hate did not end with the Holocaust. It is still as present today as it was when Timerman was tortured and discriminated against in the 1970s, and will remain commonplace in many territories unless we remain vigilant and speak up against it.
Here are some of my favorite quotes, translated from Spanish:
Some of the chapters are just what you would expect after reading the back cover—accounts of unjust imprisonment, physical torture, humiliation, lack of hygiene or any rights whatsoever, and immense suffering. Timerman, who was one of the most prolific and influential journalists at the time, and among the very few willing to publish pieces that were critical of the regime, tells his story of being transported back and forth between illegal military prisons and torture sites, witnessing the many victims of Jorge Videla being wrongfully detained and later murdered, and the chaos that reigned everywhere in the country during Argentina’s most authoritarian and destructive decade.
Nonetheless, many of the chapters are explanations of Timerman’s political ideology and commentary on political affairs. (Many ideas which I disagree with, yet I admire and appreciate.) In those chapters you can see who he truly was, and the deep convictions he held, which guided his actions as the director of one of the largest newspapers in the country and one of the faces of the regime’s opposition. In addition, as a Jew and one of the main voices against antisemitism in Argentina at that time, he accounts all of the antisemitic attacks he received while imprisoned and throughout his life. Timerman argues that many of Videla’s policies resembled those of Nazi Germany and other fascist regimes, and Videla was successful in convincing most of the population, as we’ve seen on other occasions throughout history, that the population’s perils were caused by Jews attempting to dominate the country and steal its resources.
Timerman’s is an unlikely story, as his fate went against all odds, and he was eventually liberated after several years of wrongful imprisonment, and forced to flee to Israel, where he published this book. If I had to take with me just one lesson from this book, it would be action. As he argues in his memoir, fascism and antisemitism will not just disappear by their own agency. Standing up, speaking up, and resisting is the only way of making society more fair and just.
Hate did not end with the Holocaust. It is still as present today as it was when Timerman was tortured and discriminated against in the 1970s, and will remain commonplace in many territories unless we remain vigilant and speak up against it.
Here are some of my favorite quotes, translated from Spanish:
“My Judaism was a political act. That alone was impossible for the military to understand. Their world was simpler. And to survive in that world, you had to choose between the two extremes. For many, for the vast majority, it was very simple. For me, it was impossible.”
“After the war, we began to understand the magnitude of the Holocaust. And we promised ourselves that this silent and scientific destruction of our people would never be repeated again. And we also promised ourselves, and we swore … that our own silence, our passivity, our confusion, our paralysis would never be repeated. We promised ourselves that horror would never paralyze us, frighten us, make us develop theories of survival, of commitment to reality, of postponing our public indignation.”
“The discipline of the National Guard is not very good. Many times an officer gives me food without blindfolding me. Then I see his face. He smiles. Guards are tired of their jobs because they also have to act as torturers, interrogators, and carry out kidnapping operations.”
"Hope is something that belongs to the interrogator rather than the prisoner. The interrogator always seems to feel that he can succeed in modifying the will of the interrogated.”
January 20, 2024
Jacobo Timerman’s autobiographical book Prisoner without a name, Cell without a Number was published in 1980, its English translation released in 1981.
Timerman was the editor of La Opinión, Argentina’s leading liberal newspaper. The paper was not popular with the military government because he was not averse to castigate both the Left and the Right for human rights abuses. Inevitably, it came to a head one dawn in ‘April 1977 some twenty civilians besieged my apartment in midtown Buenos Aires. They said they were obeying orders from the Tenth Infantry Brigade of the First Army Corps’ (p9). He was covered with a blanket and bundled in a car and taken away. Eventually, blindfolded and handcuffed, he discovered he was kidnapped ‘by the extremist sector of the army’ (p29)... which was at the heart of Nazi operations in Argentina... In effect, they mistakenly believed he was part of a Jewish anti-Argentine conspiracy!
He was held for two and a half years – tortured, abused and humiliated – without charges ever being brought against him.
It was probably because he was internationally known and his wife continued to raise awareness of his plight that he was not murdered – or ‘disappeared’. Certainly, he believed that his only crime was to be born Jewish.
‘Entire families disappeared. The bodies were covered in cement and thrown to the bottom of the Plata or Paraná rivers. Sometimes the cement was badly applied and corpses were washed up along the coasts of Argentina and Uruguay... (others were) thrown into old cemeteries under existing graves... (and some) heaved into the middle of the ocean from helicopters... (while others were) dismembered and burned... Small children were turned over to grandparents or more commonly presented to childless couples in Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil ...’ (p50/51).
Then in late 1979, his citizenship of Argentina was revoked and he was expelled from the country, and then resided in Israel.
Timerman was born in Bar, Ukraine, to Jewish parents. To escape the Russian persecution of Jews and pogroms there, the family emigrated to Argentina in 1928, when he was five years old.
This is a searing account of a brave man. He died in November, 1999, aged 76.
Timerman was the editor of La Opinión, Argentina’s leading liberal newspaper. The paper was not popular with the military government because he was not averse to castigate both the Left and the Right for human rights abuses. Inevitably, it came to a head one dawn in ‘April 1977 some twenty civilians besieged my apartment in midtown Buenos Aires. They said they were obeying orders from the Tenth Infantry Brigade of the First Army Corps’ (p9). He was covered with a blanket and bundled in a car and taken away. Eventually, blindfolded and handcuffed, he discovered he was kidnapped ‘by the extremist sector of the army’ (p29)... which was at the heart of Nazi operations in Argentina... In effect, they mistakenly believed he was part of a Jewish anti-Argentine conspiracy!
He was held for two and a half years – tortured, abused and humiliated – without charges ever being brought against him.
It was probably because he was internationally known and his wife continued to raise awareness of his plight that he was not murdered – or ‘disappeared’. Certainly, he believed that his only crime was to be born Jewish.
‘Entire families disappeared. The bodies were covered in cement and thrown to the bottom of the Plata or Paraná rivers. Sometimes the cement was badly applied and corpses were washed up along the coasts of Argentina and Uruguay... (others were) thrown into old cemeteries under existing graves... (and some) heaved into the middle of the ocean from helicopters... (while others were) dismembered and burned... Small children were turned over to grandparents or more commonly presented to childless couples in Chile, Paraguay, and Brazil ...’ (p50/51).
Then in late 1979, his citizenship of Argentina was revoked and he was expelled from the country, and then resided in Israel.
Timerman was born in Bar, Ukraine, to Jewish parents. To escape the Russian persecution of Jews and pogroms there, the family emigrated to Argentina in 1928, when he was five years old.
This is a searing account of a brave man. He died in November, 1999, aged 76.
June 22, 2018
“The white walls had been recently painted. Undoubtedly they once had names on them, messages, words of encouragement, dates. They are now bereft of any vestige or testimony.” It wasn’t just the walls of his cell, it was the official transcript of Argentinian society; silence masked the truth, and just because nothing was being said didn’t mean there was nothing to say. Jacobo Timerman had something to say. “Prisoner without a Name, Cell without a Number” retells the consequences of speaking out at a time and place where having an opinion was considered political subversion, and punishment and justice fungible.
Timerman was founder and editor of La Opinion, an Argentine newspaper, who became one of the many desaparecidos after being arrested without charge for political commentary about the crisis faced by Argentina following the rightwing military coup of 1976. Timerman used his paper to criticize the terror tactics of both the military junta in power and the Peronist rebels they sought to eradicate, and to advocate for a political solution.
Aside from recounting the barbarity of life as a desaparecido, Timerman offers the reader an intimate look at the anatomy of a totalitarian state, and a social critique of the environment that birthed it. Some of the methods implemented by the military junta were standard issue totalitarian tactics (“to ignore the complexities of reality, or even eliminate reality, and instead establish a simple goal and a simple means of attaining that goal.”), others were more innovative and cunning (e.g. the targeting of psychiatrists on suspicion of their helping dissidents to cope with issues related to subversive activities). This book is unique in that it illuminates both the micro and the macro of the Argentine crisis of the late 1970s, and should occupy the reading list of anyone interested in Argentine history or the potential evolution of political crisis.
Timerman was founder and editor of La Opinion, an Argentine newspaper, who became one of the many desaparecidos after being arrested without charge for political commentary about the crisis faced by Argentina following the rightwing military coup of 1976. Timerman used his paper to criticize the terror tactics of both the military junta in power and the Peronist rebels they sought to eradicate, and to advocate for a political solution.
Aside from recounting the barbarity of life as a desaparecido, Timerman offers the reader an intimate look at the anatomy of a totalitarian state, and a social critique of the environment that birthed it. Some of the methods implemented by the military junta were standard issue totalitarian tactics (“to ignore the complexities of reality, or even eliminate reality, and instead establish a simple goal and a simple means of attaining that goal.”), others were more innovative and cunning (e.g. the targeting of psychiatrists on suspicion of their helping dissidents to cope with issues related to subversive activities). This book is unique in that it illuminates both the micro and the macro of the Argentine crisis of the late 1970s, and should occupy the reading list of anyone interested in Argentine history or the potential evolution of political crisis.
March 20, 2022
"Preso sin nombre, celda sin número" es un libro que sirve. Sirve por muchos motivos: ayuda a contextualizar una época nefasta de la historia argentina; grafica el nivel de desprecio por la vida humana de los dirigentes militares y de sus subordinados; expone la enorme complicidad que tuvieron los medios argentinos en todo lo acontecido; muestra lo irracional de una dialéctica de la necesidad de aniquilar al comunismo (fogueda por EE.UU: un tema que no se menciona en el libro, evidentemente por la buena relación de Timerman con este país); resalta el tema, bastante oculto, del antisemitismo en la Argentina; entre otros aspectos.
No es cuestión menor para evadir, la complejidad que el "personaje" de Timerman le imprime al ser él el autor de este escrito. Me explico mejor. Jacobo Timerman es un ser contradictorio en muchos aspectos; él mismo lo resalta en el libro. Su historia antes de ser detenido estaba repleta de matices, de poder mediático, de influencia en la sociedad. Promovió el golpe de estado de 1966 contra Illia desde su célebre revista "Primera plana", por ejemplo. Sin embargo, fue una víctima y un sobreviviente de un aparato represor desbocado. Su difuso pasado no quita mérito al indispensable testimonio de su libro.
En lo personal, complemente la lectura de este documento con varios más, relacionados directamente con la temática, de esa época y de épocas anteriores y posteriores. También tuve la necesidad de ampliar la información con recursos audiovisuales, tanto de entrevistas o apariciones en los medios de Timerman, como de otros tipos de videos y documentales.
En conclusión, es un libro impactante. No es posible salir indemne del mismo, o no debería de serlo (ya que todo es posible, aunque mal nos duela). Paradójicamente, tardé bastante en reparar en su existencia; debería de ser más reconocido. Recomiendo su lectura.
No es cuestión menor para evadir, la complejidad que el "personaje" de Timerman le imprime al ser él el autor de este escrito. Me explico mejor. Jacobo Timerman es un ser contradictorio en muchos aspectos; él mismo lo resalta en el libro. Su historia antes de ser detenido estaba repleta de matices, de poder mediático, de influencia en la sociedad. Promovió el golpe de estado de 1966 contra Illia desde su célebre revista "Primera plana", por ejemplo. Sin embargo, fue una víctima y un sobreviviente de un aparato represor desbocado. Su difuso pasado no quita mérito al indispensable testimonio de su libro.
En lo personal, complemente la lectura de este documento con varios más, relacionados directamente con la temática, de esa época y de épocas anteriores y posteriores. También tuve la necesidad de ampliar la información con recursos audiovisuales, tanto de entrevistas o apariciones en los medios de Timerman, como de otros tipos de videos y documentales.
En conclusión, es un libro impactante. No es posible salir indemne del mismo, o no debería de serlo (ya que todo es posible, aunque mal nos duela). Paradójicamente, tardé bastante en reparar en su existencia; debería de ser más reconocido. Recomiendo su lectura.
November 19, 2020
This is a fascinating and sad experience of Jacobo Timerman an Soviet-born Argentine jew newspaper publisher who was imprisoned and tortured during the late 70's in Argentina's "Dirty War."
I actually picked this up a few years ago and stopped reading after about 20 pages. I was looking for more gruesome details of his ordeals and experiences in prison. Timerman presents those details somewhat sparingly and intersperses thoughts about totalitarian regimes and politics.
One of the main points of the book is how similar many of these events were to Nazi Germany. How, he asks, in the 1970's, an ostensibly enlightened age of "Never Again," in an advanced and modern country can anti-Semitism play such a scurrilous role.
This book might be a good intro to those who want to know more about the Dirty War in Argentina. This stuff happened very recently and the perpetrators—many of them, not all—pretty much got away with it. Google some of the names he mentions... these s***-birds flew away to America and Brazil and had great lives. Even when they were tracked down, most of them were pardoned.
Timerman's legacy lives on. During the time I was reading the book I heard a podcast on something and they interviews a Jordana Timerman about something to do with Argentina. Timerman? Argentina? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Turns out she is his granddaughter.
The ending is bittersweet and I won't spoil it, although it is easy to do if you look in Wikipedia. Be sure to Google him after you finish the book. Does he finally get the last laugh? You decide.
I actually picked this up a few years ago and stopped reading after about 20 pages. I was looking for more gruesome details of his ordeals and experiences in prison. Timerman presents those details somewhat sparingly and intersperses thoughts about totalitarian regimes and politics.
One of the main points of the book is how similar many of these events were to Nazi Germany. How, he asks, in the 1970's, an ostensibly enlightened age of "Never Again," in an advanced and modern country can anti-Semitism play such a scurrilous role.
This book might be a good intro to those who want to know more about the Dirty War in Argentina. This stuff happened very recently and the perpetrators—many of them, not all—pretty much got away with it. Google some of the names he mentions... these s***-birds flew away to America and Brazil and had great lives. Even when they were tracked down, most of them were pardoned.
Timerman's legacy lives on. During the time I was reading the book I heard a podcast on something and they interviews a Jordana Timerman about something to do with Argentina. Timerman? Argentina? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Turns out she is his granddaughter.
The ending is bittersweet and I won't spoil it, although it is easy to do if you look in Wikipedia. Be sure to Google him after you finish the book. Does he finally get the last laugh? You decide.
August 13, 2023
I expected this book to be completely about the experience of being in prison, however as I began reading it I realised that this book isn't just about the prison but also about the country that the prisoner is in and this gives you a lot of context in the book especially since not a lot of people know about the history of the country and what it's like for people who live there.
The book itself was written in a very formal form of language and when I read more about the author and when the book was written as well as what it did for the Jewish people in Argentina I realised the reasoning for it. It was both an account and a manifesto, allowing the world to look behind the scenes of politics and ethics, behind the scenes of those are were there and who were in power and gave a true and accurate account of what is going on.
When you are going to read this book, I do suggest that you break it down into chapter reading rather than continuous reading, which is the way that I chose to approach it. It will give you more time to ponder on the content and give you a better understanding of each. I think that due to the way in which I have read the book I may end up re-reading the account in the future, although I don't do this often with book, just to give myself more of an understanding of the people behind the book.
The book itself was written in a very formal form of language and when I read more about the author and when the book was written as well as what it did for the Jewish people in Argentina I realised the reasoning for it. It was both an account and a manifesto, allowing the world to look behind the scenes of politics and ethics, behind the scenes of those are were there and who were in power and gave a true and accurate account of what is going on.
When you are going to read this book, I do suggest that you break it down into chapter reading rather than continuous reading, which is the way that I chose to approach it. It will give you more time to ponder on the content and give you a better understanding of each. I think that due to the way in which I have read the book I may end up re-reading the account in the future, although I don't do this often with book, just to give myself more of an understanding of the people behind the book.
May 17, 2017
Torture indeed. Jacobo Timmerman reveals a lot, the most telling is the policy of the kidnappers, torturers and executioners who worked for the regime in Argentina--or who might have been employed by a rival faction within the armed forces--was when a person who was "disappeared" (he didn't just disappear but was disappeared) and his family and associates were able to pinpoint the last time and place he was seen, possibly coming close to the identities of his kidnappers and even getting the Catholic Church or organizations like Amnesty International interested in the case. When this happened the jailers would simply kill the person they were holding--extra-judicial execution at its most basic--and bury him in an unmarked grave so no one would ever know who had taken and held him. Amazing to think of the dashed hopes of families who, often at great risk to themselves and generally at significant expense, felt they were coming close to the solution of where their loved one was only to have the trail go cold since he was now dead and no one had ever even heard of him.
Disturbing and frightening book, an eyewitness to the place of Argentina among Western Hemisphere nations in the forefront of torture and illegal killing of their citizens.
Disturbing and frightening book, an eyewitness to the place of Argentina among Western Hemisphere nations in the forefront of torture and illegal killing of their citizens.
August 16, 2018
Jacobo Timerman's "Prisoner without a name , Cell without a number" is truly remarkable book. In this work, Timerman writes about his story and takes us into his world of imprisonment and torture in Argentine jails. The power of falsehoods and myths believed by his torturers drove them to inflict torture and to believe that they doing is right and justified. This book has to be read to be believed and any commentary simply cannot do it justice. It is remarkable message for us and our times. For example, in one instance he wrote that the tortured and the torturers are a small fraction of the population, and the bulk of the population is not involved! Unfortunately, it is true.
Meant to read this book years ago, and finally did. It is a book that is a must read. Glad I did.
If you read one serious book a year this would be a fine choice. (The paperback is 120 pages and the language is easy to read.)
Highly recommended.
Seelochan Beharry
Author: The Prehistories of Baseball (McFarland, 2016)
Meant to read this book years ago, and finally did. It is a book that is a must read. Glad I did.
If you read one serious book a year this would be a fine choice. (The paperback is 120 pages and the language is easy to read.)
Highly recommended.
Seelochan Beharry
Author: The Prehistories of Baseball (McFarland, 2016)
August 7, 2020
This is a book that was required for my Masters program, and I am really glad it was! I don't think I would have come across this book if it weren't for my class. This book is incredibly well written and very emotional. What Timerman endured in Argentina in the 1970s is nothing short of horrendous and unfathomable. It is so important for people to read about others experiences, especially when their experiences come from what we often take for granted. Timerman is imprisoned because he owns a newspaper that is not shy about writing political articles. He is tortured and beaten beyond words. It is incredibly eye opening and vital to understand the history around us, especially when it is so close to home. This book was difficult to follow sometimes because Timerman would get very philosophical or political. Some things you just cannot understand unless you lived it. But Timerman does an excellent job of telling his story and teaching about the political turmoil that took place in Argentina.
Read
January 22, 2024I won’t give this a rating, but I will say I wished I would have done research on Timerman before reading this memoir. During the entirety of this book he is very pro-Zionism, but also pro-human rights. To me these are contradicting ideologies, but perhaps that is because of my modern understanding of what Zionism means for the Palestinian people. Because of this, I read this memoir with an almost a tainted bias. However, Timerman did end up moving back to Argentina and died there in 1999. He was very open with his criticism of the Israeli government and, to me, this aligns way more with his preaching in his memoir than pro-Zionism.
“As a journalist, Timerman continued to criticize the government of Israel for what he considered its shortcomings. A 1987 op-ed by Timerman in El Pais described Israel as ‘intoxicated’, akin to a European colonial power in its exploitation of Palestinian labor.
“As a journalist, Timerman continued to criticize the government of Israel for what he considered its shortcomings. A 1987 op-ed by Timerman in El Pais described Israel as ‘intoxicated’, akin to a European colonial power in its exploitation of Palestinian labor.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 63 reviews