To engage seriously with the Jewish Question is thus to recognize its irreducibly double character: as both a historical problem-space and a speculative locus for the projection of collective pathologies. The phrase crystallizes a conundrum endemic to the modern nation-state: how to reconcile a polity premised on universal egalitarianism with the particularisms that inevitably disrupt it. This tension is inscribed, structurally, within the genealogy of modern citizenship. Jews, as an archetype of the diasporic and deterritorialized subject, became the paradigmatic "exception" to the emergent social contract—a position that, in turn, transformed them into the carriers of an ideologically overdetermined ambivalence.

The emblematic text in this regard remains Marx's 1844 essay On the Jewish Question, a treatise that, despite its ostensibly emancipatory intentions, becomes mired in the contradictory impulses of its own critique. Marx's diagnosis—that the ostensible Jewish "particularity" was symptomatic of a deeper alienation, economic and existential, permeating the entire social body—unwittingly reinforced the very binary it sought to dissolve. Thus, while ostensibly arguing for the dissolution of all "Judaic" particularism as a necessary precondition for human liberation, Marx's critique perpetuated the association of Jewishness with a primordial estrangement from the polis. The Jewish body politic, then, is cast simultaneously as emblem and effacement—both the agent of, and the obstacle to, universal emancipation.

Yet this strand of thought cannot be disentangled from the broader metanarrative of modernity, wherein the Jewish figure functions as a liminal site—at once within and without—traversing the threshold between the settled and the unsettled, the sovereign and the stateless. It is this paradoxical liminality that has rendered the Jewish presence, both corporeal and ideological, a site of projection for myriad anxieties about modernity's dislocations: capital versus labor, nation versus cosmopolis, tradition versus secularism. The Jewish "difference" is thus less a matter of concrete sociocultural traits than a spectral locus of symbolic instability. In this regard, the Jewish Question becomes not simply a socio-political issue but an epistemological one, challenging the very categories by which identity, community, and alterity are conceptualized.

To what extent, then, can the Jewish Question be "answered"? If, as Derrida would suggest, the very form of the question presupposes the incommensurability of its object—foreclosing genuine resolution by framing the problem in terms of an aporetic, binary opposition—then the Jewish Question is less a question to be answered than a symptom to be analyzed. The persistent attempt to render it answerable presupposes a problematic teleology: the desire to assimilate the inassimilable, to incorporate that which resists incorporation. In the history of modern thought, this teleology has oscillated between two poles: assimilationist universalism on the one hand, and ethnonationalist exclusion on the other. But in both cases, the very persistence of the Question itself signals a structural impasse: the "Jewishness" of the Jewish Question lies precisely in its indeterminacy, its refusal to be resolved into any single, stable identity category.

Thus, any "solution" to the Jewish Question that purports to dissolve it through either complete assimilation or radical expulsion misapprehends its nature as a perpetual site of displacement, a trope for the fragility of all attempts at totalizing identity formations. The Jewish presence is the punctum, the point at which the smooth surface of national identity is punctured by an irreducible exteriority. This punctum, however, is not simply Jewish; it is the marker of every potential rupture within the fantasy of a closed and homogenous community.

Indeed, it is precisely in the realm of political theology—where the secular and the sacred, the national and the transnational, meet in uneasy contiguity—that the Jewish Question finds its most enduring resonance. For if the nation-state is, as Carl Schmitt would have it, defined by its capacity to designate the friend and the enemy, then the Jew—as the paradigmatic outsider within—embodies the unclassifiable third term that perpetually destabilizes this dyadic structure. The Jew is the homo sacer, simultaneously inside and outside the law, both constituted by and constitutive of the state's juridical apparatus.

The implications of this for contemporary thought are manifold. To speak of the Jewish Question today is not simply to revisit the spectral legacies of antisemitism or to rehearse the arguments for and against Jewish emancipation; it is to confront the unresolved contradictions of a political order that has never fully reckoned with its own exclusions. In an era defined by resurgent nationalisms, ethno-sectarian violence, and the recrudescence of xenophobia, the Jewish Question persists as a haunting reminder of modernity’s constitutive failure to reconcile universalism with particularism.

To conclude, the Jewish Question cannot be understood as a discrete problem with a delimited solution; rather, it is the name we give to a set of dislocations—political, economic, and ontological—that traverse the entire project of modernity. To ask whether the Jewish Question has been "resolved" is to misunderstand the nature of the inquiry. It is not a question to be answered but a symptom to be read—a cipher for the discontents of a world that continues to oscillate, uneasily, between the promise of universal equality and the violence of particularist exclusions.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5603471&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5307129",#48144312)