Ireland is far from alone in Europe in experiencing a worrying rise in anti-foreigner feeling. Nor is it unique in having unprincipled politicians pander to base prejudice. However, when it comes to elected representatives scape-goating impoverished immigrants for electoral gain, the erstwhile leader of Austria's xenophobic Freedom Party (FPO), Jorg Haider, leaves most in the ha'penny place.
In her examination of the rise of Haider, Hella Pick, forced to flee Austria when the Nazis annexed the country in 1938, is careful not to dismiss the FPO as a one-issue party. The former diplomatic editor of the Guardian recognises the frustration engendered, particularly among the young, by the cosy carve-up of patronage by Austria's two main moderate parties, who together have dominated government in the post-war period. Such clientelism created a thick seam of resentment which has been masterfully mined by Haider, Europe's populist par excellence.
However, other aspects of the FPO's appeal go under-elaborated. Chief among these is Austria's strain of anti-globalisation feeling, born of economic insecurity and rising levels of job turnover. However misplaced (unemployment has remained below 5 per cent for 50 years), these concerns have led to working class voters abandoning in droves their traditional party of choice, the Social Democrats, for the protest politics of Haider, a self-appointed champion of the "little man".
While entirely justified in her distaste for Haider and his antics, Pick fails to communicate his Clinton-like charisma. In the beer tents of provincial Austria, his pulpiteering venue of choice, he is protean, metamorphosing in the course of an evening from put-upon martyr, to champion of Austria's interests, to authoritarian leader-figure. The beer-drinkers, among them bigots and backwoodsmen, the disgruntled and the marginalised, lap it up.
But the book is more about the aftermath of the Holocaust than Haider (despite its title, there is disappointingly little attention paid to any link between the two) and the threat, if any, posed by his nasty brand of politics to civil and political liberties. Guilty Victim focuses on the failure of post-war Austrians to face up to, and atone for, their involvement in Nazism.
It also examines the post-1945 injustices heaped on those who suffered Nazi depravities, including niggardly compensation for confiscated assets and callous indifference towards many exiles who sought to return to Austria. Moreover, the author's evidence strongly suggests that the cruelty of the state towards Jewish victims was, at least in part, the result of institutionalised anti-semitism.
Although clearly unconvinced, Pick does set out the arguments that Austrians used to rewrite history and avoid culpability for their part in Nazi atrocities, including the case for collective amnesia, advocated by most in post-war Austria in order to focus on the future and avoid dredging up a divisive past.
The important role of the wartime allies in concocting the fiction of victimhood, in order to drive a wedge between Austria and Germany and discourage Austrians from seeking re-absorption into a Greater Germany, is also recognised. Pick appreciates the irresistibility of this opportunity for Austrian politicians, including those who were genuine victims of the Nazis, as a means of avoiding international opprobrium and costly restitution claims.
The author is generous, too, in her praise for the country's many achievements, not least its consensual style of politics that papered over, and eventually healed, many of the wounds of both the Nazi era and the deeply divisive civil war in the 1930s (though it is difficult to see how such consensus could have been arrived at without the amnesia that is much maligned throughout). Frequent mention is also made of the country's excellent record on offering asylum to victims of tyranny and war, from Hungary in 1956 to Kosovo in 1999.
On balance for Pick, Austria's shameful behaviour towards its wartime victims since 1945 outweighs all else. But this is a curious conclusion. The author readily admits that despite being in full possession of the facts, she believed Austria a model society for most of her life. That her views changed during the 1990s, precisely when amends were belatedly being made to victims and collective guilt acknowledged, is all the more perplexing.
Dan O'Brien is Europe editor at the Economist Intelligence Unit in London