Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I've been wondering what Daniel Pearl's father, Judea, thought of the new film about his son and daughter-in-law, especially given CAIR's exploitation of the movie for its own purposes. It must be a difficult position to be in, since I'm sure he wants to conduct himself in a dignified manner at all times, as well as wanting not to be too hard on the people who made the film, whether or not he likes the final product. Here he is at The New Republic in a restrained but still critical piece: Moral relativism and A Mighty Heart.
But there was a problem with my theory, and it was never clearer than in a conversation I once had with a Pakistani friend who told me that he loathed people like President Bush who insisted on dividing the world into "us" and "them." My friend, of course, was taking an innocent stand against intolerance, and did not realize that, in so doing, he was in fact dividing the world into "us" and "them," falling straight into the camp of people he loathed.
This is a political version of a famous paradox formulated by Bertrand Russell in 1901, which shook the logical foundations of mathematics. Any person who claims to be tolerant naturally defines himself in opposition to those who are intolerant. But that makes him intolerant of certain people--which invalidates his claim to be tolerant.
Which brings me to my son, Daniel Pearl. Thanks to the release of A Mighty Heart, the movie based on Mariane Pearl's book of the same title, Danny's legacy is once again receiving attention. Of course, no movie could ever capture exactly what made Danny special--his humor, his integrity, his love of humanity--or why he was admired by so many. For journalists, Danny represents the courage and nobility inherent in their profession. For Americans, Danny is a symbol of one of our very best national instincts: the desire to extend a warm hand of friendship and dialogue to faraway lands and peoples. And for anyone who is proud of their heritage or faith, Danny's last words, "I am Jewish," showed that it is possible to find dignity in one's identity even in the darkest of moments. Traces of these ideas are certainly evident in A Mighty Heart, and I hope viewers will leave the theater inspired by them.
At the same time, I am worried that A Mighty Heart falls into a trap Bertrand Russell would have recognized: the paradox of moral equivalence, of seeking to extend the logic of tolerance a step too far. You can see traces of this logic in the film's comparison of Danny's abduction with Guantánamo--it opens with pictures from the prison--and its comparison of Al Qaeda militants with CIA agents. You can also see it in the comments of the movie's director, Michael Winterbottom, who wrote on The Washington Post's website that A Mighty Heart and his previous film The Road to Guantánamo "are very similar. Both are stories about people who are victims of increasing violence on both sides. There are extremists on both sides who want to ratchet up the levels of violence and hundreds of thousands of people have died because of this."
Drawing a comparison between Danny's murder and the detainment of suspects in Guantánamo is precisely what the killers wanted, as expressed in both their e-mails and the murder video. Obviously Winterbottom did not mean to echo their sentiments, and certainly not to justify their demands or actions. Still, I am concerned that aspects of his movie will play into the hands of professional obscurers of moral clarity.
Indeed, following an advance screening of A Mighty Heart, a panelist representing the Council on American-Islamic Relations reportedly said, "We need to end the culture of bombs, torture, occupation, and violence. This is the message to take from the film." The message that angry youngsters are hearing is unfortunate: All forms of violence are equally evil; therefore, as long as one persists, others should not be ruled out. This is precisely the logic used by Mohammed Siddiqui Khan, one of the London suicide bombers, in his videotape on Al Jazeera. "Your democratically elected government," he told his British countrymen, "continues to perpetrate atrocities against my people ... . [W]e will not stop."
Danny's tragedy demands an end to this logic. There can be no comparison between those who take pride in the killing of an unarmed journalist and those who vow to end such acts--no ifs, ands, or buts. Moral relativism died with Daniel Pearl, in Karachi, on January 31, 2002.
There was a time when drawing moral symmetries between two sides of every conflict was a mark of original thinking. Today, with Western intellectuals overextending two-sidedness to reckless absurdities, it reflects nothing but lazy conformity. What is needed now is for intellectuals, filmmakers, and the rest of us to resist this dangerous trend and draw legitimate distinctions where such distinctions are warranted.
My son Danny had the courage to examine all sides. He was a genuine listener and a champion of dialogue. Yet he also had principles and red lines. He was tolerant but not mindlessly so. I hope viewers will remember this when they see A Mighty Heart.
Judea Pearl is president of the Daniel Pearl Foundation, an organization committed to interfaith dialogue, and co-editor of I am Jewish: Personal Reflections Inspired by the Last Words of Daniel Pearl.
Fabulous. I don't know what else I can say.
BHG
Judea Pearl said, '... Michael Winterbottom, who wrote on The Washington Post's website that A Mighty Heart and his previous film The Road to Guantánamo "are very similar. ...'
I'm afraid that Mr. Winterbottom's attitude typifies the degeneration exhibited by the 'moral equivalence' crowd.
Truly pitiful.
"I'm sure he wants to conduct himself in a dignified manner at all times, as well as wanting not to be too hard on the people who made the film, whether or not he likes the final product."
. . . . not to mention staying on good enough terms with his daughter-in-law that he gets to see his grandson.
For the lazy intellectual conformity prize, I nominate all those who conflate the antonyms "moral relativism" and "moral equivalence" for the sake of polemical posturing.
Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy on moral relativism: "The truth or falsity of moral judgments, or their justification, is not absolute or universal, but is relative to the traditions, convictions, or practices of a group of persons."
Judea Pearl, may the Omnipresent comfort him among all the mourners of Zion, writes that moral relativism died with his son Danny. Halavai - if only it were so! But his critique of "A Mighty Heart" shows that it is alive and well (or as well as it ever was) in his own breast.
The message drawn from the film by a CAIR representative, that "[w]e need to end the culture of bombs, torture, occupation, and violence," is, Judea says, the logic of suicide bombers: "All forms of violence are equally evil; therefore, as long as one persists, others should not be ruled out... 'Your democratically elected government...continues to perpetrate atrocities against my people.... [W]e will not stop.'"
(Note the sleight of pen: "We need to end" = "We will not stop".)
What, on the other hand, is Judea's own contrasting perspective? "There can be no comparison between those who take pride in the killing of an unarmed journalist and those who vow to end such acts--no ifs, ands, or buts" - among the latter of whom he includes the CIA and the dungeoneers of Guantanamo. In other words, as long as the Islamists perpetrate atrocities against our innocents, we will not stop hammering theirs. Oops, same hand - not only tolerating, but proudly seeking to imitate.
Judea's dispute with Mohammed Siddiqui Khan is not about the moral illogic he seems to share with him (perhaps only at fleeting moments of unclarity, one hopes), but about which are the truly culpable, real atrocities. That is, which group's "traditions, convictions, or practices" - and which group's lives - are alone in having moral worth?
Thank G!d for the light of moral equivalence brought by CAIR, in the tradition of Justice Jackson’s comments at the Nuremberg Trials:
"If certain acts of violation of treaties are crimes, they are crimes whether the United States does them or whether Germany does them, and we are not prepared to lay down a rule of criminal conduct against others which we would not be willing to have invoked against us...We must never forget that the record on which we judge these defendants is the record on which history will judge us tomorrow."
Excepting Hayyim, that moral equivalence is intended in the sense of moral equivocating, which sense does have correspondence with moral relativism. Too, while "dungeoneers of Guantanamo" is a nice rhetorical turn of phrase, it is far more rhetorical than substantive and it does not serve to equate Daniel Pearls premeditated murder, horror and atrocity with questions such as those concerning due process afforded combatants. Whatever questions may attend those "dungeoneers," they do not include such equivocations. (There are also either/or issues involved, e.g., if we transport jihadists/salafists to domestic facilities we then afford them recruiting platforms/territory they would not otherwise have.)
Saying that does not disallow, in the least, Judge Jackson's wise counsel against moral equivalence, as commonly understood. CAIR's moral equivalence can be seen for what it is - in the tradition of moral relativism and not at all consonant with Judge Jackson's tenet - in that it attempts to obfuscate on moral grounds, by failing to heed particulars of the contrasting situations.
Judge Jackson's advice is critical and it's important that it be heeded and taken seriously. But to place CAIR's attempt at moral equivalence - its morally equivocating tactic - in Jackson's tradition reflects a failure to draw entirely relevant distinctions, distinctions that are critical, regardless of the merits that attend other aspects of the Guantanamo and similar debates.
Judea Pearl writes (added emphasis is mine), "You can see traces of this logic [of moral equivalence] in the film's comparison of Danny's abduction with Guantánamo"
Michael B. advises not "to equate Daniel Pearls premeditated murder, horror and atrocity with questions such as those concerning due process afforded combatants."
Leaving aside the deceptive substitution (shades of "We need to end" = "We will not stop"), Michael, this is indeed moral equivocation, which you continue by offering (while equivocating about whether you actually endorse) justification for the horror and atrocity of imprisoning alleged combatants without charge, or evidence, or trial, or conviction, or sentence of determinate endpoint, or recourse - even in cases of simple mistaken identity or informants motivated by personal score-settling and material reward.
But all this is no doubt "more rhetorical than substantive" from the viewpoint of your moral relativism, for which the distinction of overriding importance in making moral judgments is the one between "us" and "them". You are quite right to associate this with moral equivocation, since it will always entangle you in tortured (rhetorically, not substantively) justifications of clearly immoral actions - insofar as they are committed by whomever you consider "us" - and will always reduce all actual moral reasoning to mere partisan rhetoric.
You are equally right to distinguish your unacknowledged moral relativism from the moral equivalence wisely counseled by Justice Jackson. That you characterize the Justice's principled rejection of moral rules "which we would not be willing to have invoked against us" as a statement "against moral equivalence" is, in a word, priceless.
May G!d grant "us" and "them" the wisdom to recognize ourselves in each other and the strength to "love your fellow [who is] as yourself."
Come to think of it, I wandered how well Judea Pearl gets along with his daughter-in-law. I noticed that in a documentary, and in other tv, print and internet presentations (not that I've seen that many), the parents are always interviewed separately from the widow. YOu never see them in the same place or speaking out together.
Tit-for-tat silliness and equivocal nonsense; one example only:
"the horror and atrocity of imprisoning alleged combatants without charge"
The same could be said about any war, even of the traditional kind where the opposing force, the enemy, is in uniform. Once captured, do we truly know he is an enemy combatant? Might he not be a spy, either a double agent of one of our own? Might he not have been forced into service, but not truly a combatant of his own will and desire? Hence in these cases as well he would "only" be an alleged combatant. And of course "the horror and atrocity" ascription is ludicrously equivocating itself.
The present conflict represents a new paradigm, yes, but that simply means various issues need to be newly navigated, not thrown out whole cloth, throwing the baby out with the bath water.