Abnormal Evil

Resting in a book review in this week’s New York Times is a question whose origins can be traced to the beginning of time and the inner reaches of the human soul. “Does absolute evil exist?” The book in review, by Bettina Stangneth, is called Eichmann Before Jerusalem: The Unexamined Life of a Mass Murderer. The title is a conscious reference to Hannah Arendt’s infamous 1963 book Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Adolf Eichmann was the chief of the Jewish Department of the Gestapo during World War II and one of the architects of the Final Solution aimed at the extermination of European Jewry. When Eichmann was brought to justice by Israel in the early 1960s, his public trial played a cathartic role for a post-Holocaust Israeli and worldwide Jewish community, transformed from the persecuted to the prosecutor. The proceedings of the trial were documented in Arendt’s book. Its subtitle – A Report on the Banality of Evil – signals one of her most controversial and contested claims. In brief, Arendt characterizes Eichmann not as a sociopathic sadist, but rather, as an unthinking bureaucrat, an amoral individual who was just carrying out orders. In her estimation, Eichmann was not a “monster,” but a “clown.” Arendt did not soft pedal the cruel nature of Eichmann’s deeds, but by characterizing them (and him) as ordinary or banal, his evil became unexceptional, a claim which in a post-Holocaust context was and remains altogether controversial. (New York Times 9/2/14)

Stangneth’s new book makes her the latest in a long line of scholars who take issue with Arendt’s thesis. For Stangneth, Eichmann was anything but a mindless functionary. In revealing Eichmann’s notes and writings before his trial in Jerusalem, she demonstrates that Eichmann was a man of great intellectual sophistication. He was fully aware of his deeds, a willful, conscious actor who “dispatched, decreed, allowed, took steps, issued orders and gave audiences.” (p. 18) His actions and his deeds were anything but banal; his evil was absolute and thus altogether extraordinary. Neither the execution of Eichmann nor, for that matter, the execution of any single individual would or could bring justice to the victims of the Shoah. Nevertheless, once Eichmann’s deeds were named for the diabolical evil that they were, his execution served as a step towards fulfilling our obligation to eradicate evil in this wounded world in which we live.

The Arendt-Stangneth debate is not only philosophical, but also of tremendous practical import. In an article on religion and international human rights, the philosopher Michael Wyschogrod wrote: “From time to time, evils appear on the world scene which are in a class unto themselves. These are instances of large-scale, premeditated murder of large numbers of human beings in systematic ways.” Among the cases of such abnormal evil, Wyschogrod lists World War I, the Soviet Gulag System and, of course, the Holocaust. The essay, which is worth reading in its entirety, goes to great lengths to acknowledge the prickly nature of one or more states deciding to interfere in the domestic affairs of another sovereign state. Nevertheless, Wyschograd concludes, “In the face of abnormal evil, abnormal responses are necessary.” As the book of Leviticus commands: “Do not stand by idly by the blood of your brother.” “There comes a point,” writes Wyschogrod, “when military intervention is justified and the religious community has a duty to speak clearly when that point is reached.” (“Religion and International Human Rights: A Jewish Perspective” in Formation of Social Policy in the Catholic and Jewish Traditions, pp. 136-139)

Which brings us back to the question with which we began. Does absolute evil exist? How does absolute evil differ from everyday evil? Would we know abnormal evil if we saw it? Because if we did, if we lived in a time of radical or abnormal evil, then it is not only permissible, but it is our obligation to wipe it out. To be fair, we must acknowledge that the opposite might also be true. Maybe evil, like a lot of things, is merely in the eye of the beholder. “One man’s terrorist,” as the expression goes, “is another man’s freedom fighter.” One could argue that great powers, America included, assign moral labels – “good,” “evil,” “abnormal evil” – not on absolute terms, but on the basis of interests being protected. Is it really such a coincidence, to paraphrase Wyschogrod, that we rarely, if ever, conclude something to be evil if doing so serves against our national interests? Our world is a relative one, full of moral equivalences. Everyone has a point of view and every action exists in a broader context that may justify the seemingly unjustified. Who are we to have the audacity to declare anyone or anything absolutely evil, especially when doing so may call on us and others to make great sacrifices as a country?

As Jews, not only do we believe that such evil can exist in this world, but we have a word for it, and that word is Amalek. Our Torah reading states: “Remember what Amalek did to you as you came forth out of Egypt; how he met you on the way, and cut down all the stragglers at your rear, when you were faint and weary; and he feared not God.” Therefore, the text continues, “you shall blot the remembrance of Amalek from under the heaven; you shall not forget.” (Deuteronomy 25:17-19)

Amalek’s genealogy traces back to his grandfather Esau. Unlike other clans with whom the Israelites battled over territories or otherwise, the Amalekites engaged in a war of killing non-combatants. In his study on the topic, Avi Sagi explains that Amalek “transgressed every norm of a just war.” Not only did they have no cause for going to war, but they waged the war against the most fragile, the ones in the rear, behind the army. (Harvard Theological Review 87:3 1994) At the heart of their sin, explains Nechama Leibowitz, is that “they feared not God,” a condemnatory descriptor assigned to no other people but Amalek. (Studies in Devarim, p. 253) As Jews, our love for humanity is tied directly to our relationship to God. All human beings – old/young, Jew/gentile, rich/poor, gay/straight, tall/short, even our foes – are deserving of respect because we are all, equally, created in the image of God. Conversely, as in the case of Amalek, to not fear God signals the inability to acknowledge the divine and common spark embedded in all of humanity. Such people, to adopt Wyschogrod’s language, are abnormally evil, and it is our obligation, the 614th commandment to be precise, to eradicate that evil from our midst.

Ever since, in every generation, our people have been eyes wide open to the emergence of Amalek. In the biblical and rabbinic tradition, the pedigrees of those who have persecuted Israel – Agag, Haman, Rome, and others – all trace back to Amalek. But even where there is no direct lineage, as Jews we are forewarned of the ever-present possibility for Amalek-like behavior, what Zev Garber calls amalekut. To live by the sword, to slaughter innocents, this is amalekut (Jewish Bible Theology, pp. 147-159). Not just literally, but metaphysically, amalekut came to represent any past or current forms of extreme dehumanization. Be it in the name of nationalism, radical religion or any other cause, that is evil: That is amalekut.

Yes, I do believe that we live in an age where once again the seeds of Amalek have taken root. The tragic death and destruction in Gaza does not mitigate the evil intentions of Hamas: a charter unambiguously calling for the destruction of the Jewish state. The indiscriminate firing on civilian populations, tunnels dug for the sole purpose of abducting and murdering Israelis – this is amalekut! And were it to be the case that Israel, or any friend of Israel, demonstrated such an abject disrespect for human life, then war must be waged against the “Amalek” within. As my friend and colleague Danny Gordis has written, the Jewish community must dispense with its timidity and learn to call its enemies out for who they are. (The Jerusalem Post, 7/17/2014) I pray for the day when Israel and her enemies turn their swords into plowshares, but until that day, Israel has every right to defend herself against those who would seek her destruction.

As other events on the world stage continue to develop daily – in Iraq, in Syria, creeping into Jordan and right up to borders of the Golan Heights – I am struck again and again that we are living through a period of amalekut: mass murder, the slaughter of innocents, and the grotesque beheadings and public executions. Not every wrong falls in the class of abnormal evil; and we need not look far back in our own country’s history to recall times when the label of evil has proven to be a self-serving abuse of the term. It might not be in our short- or long-term interests, but evil it is and if only half of what we are reading and seeing is true, then there is little doubt that our era is seeing Amalek’s latest incarnation. As the Israeli author and peacenik Amos Oz recently reminded us, in 1945 the lives of those in Theresienstadt were saved not by peace demonstrators with placards and flowers, but by soldiers and submachine guns. Lest we forget, we are the people of “never again,” even when – especially when – the lives in question are people who are strangers to us and our direct interests.

Tolstoy once wrote: “There are no conditions of life to which a man cannot get accustomed, especially if he sees them accepted by everyone around him.” (Anna Karenina) It is far too easy to let evil become banal or ordinary, to allow ourselves to be lulled into a world of moral equivalences and willed inertia. As Jews, as human beings, as lovers of humanity, we must protect that humanity, never ever permitting ourselves to grow accustomed to acts of sheer diabolical evil. We must be vigilant, we must be responsive, and most of all, as a religious community it is our responsibility to announce the arrival of abnormal evil when we see it – thus rousing our world from its slumber.