The Banality of Evil

I took a group of new friends to Yad Vashem today.  The tour guide remembered me from previous visits and suggested I might instead want to see a new exhibit devoted to the arrest and trial of Adolph Eichmann rather another visit to the Holocaust History Museum.  And so, on a day when the history hall was crowded to capacity, I set off for a section of the auditorium and in near solitude contemplated the personification of what Hannah Arendt famously termed "the banality of evil."

All the details of Eichmann's capture and arrest by Mossad agents in Argentenia in 1961 were there.  Hand drawn plans of the raid, photos of his modest and rural home outside Buenos Aires, and the ID card he was issued to work in the local  Mercedes Benz plant.  The contents of his pocket the night he was apprehended.  It was all there.

But the most chilling part was seeing the man himself in archival footage of his testimony from his trail.  He was entirely unremorseful, behaving as if the though of apologizing for the deaths of so many had never occurred to him.  Unrepentant to the end, he spoke of the deaths of women and children with a chilling detachment.  Taking no responsibility for his actions, he was "just following orders."

At one point Eichmann likened himself to Pontius Pilate, caught in an unwinnable situation.  But he professed no hatred, nor showed any emotion aside from a nervous contortion of his face on occasion.  He demonstrated no ideological bent, either grand or depraved.  He may have had one, but the defense he offered was little more than to say he did what he was instructed as if there is absolution in blind obedience.  As Arendt observed when she covered the trial for the New Yorker,  Eichmann seemed not a lunatic, not even a monster or an evil villain, but more a tragically deficient man who refused to assume any responsibility for his own actions.

The Sheykh Wore Silver Shoes

Today we visited the Bedouin village of Umm el-Hierin the Negev Desert in southern Israel.  Although it's definitely a village, you won't find it on GoogleMaps, nor on any other map.  It's what's known as an unrecognized village, of which there are many in the Negev.  There are also a handful of recognized villages there.  So what difference does it make to the Bedouin, except for the fact that no one can get Mapquest directions to come see you? Unrecognized villages are not allowed access to running water, electricity or sewage services.  They are citizens of Israel.  Though not compulsory, many of their sons serve in the Israeli army.  But they must choose between abandoning their ancestral lands or living without basic services.  In our meeting with the head of the village, we found a warm and gregarious man who was deeply frustrated by his plight, yet didn't portray bitterness.  When asked questions about his views on regional events in Egypt, Tunisia, and elsewhere, or when pressed on his position on West Bank and Gaza Palestinians, he demurred, refusing to be drawn in to larger issues. He is staking his entire claim on the fact that his family has lived and farmed in this area for 500 years and that he is now a full citizen of the State of Israel, and as such he is entitled to the same rights and responsibilities of all citizens, regardless of race, religion or ethnicity.  He wants to clean water, electricity, and a flush toilet for himself, his family, and the people of his village.  Makes sense to me. 

Des hommes et des dieux--see it if you can

At long last I was finally able to see Of Gods and Men, the award winning French film from 2010 that is in limited release in the US now.  This is the amazing film story, based on real people and real events, of Trappist monks living in a monastery in rural Algeria, serving the local villagers and living in community with them as well as with each other. As the storm of the Algerian war gathers around them they are threatened by Islamist militants and suspected by corrupt military officials, and prudence and common sense would direct them to flee.  But as we see them grapple with this decision, we are privy to quiet ruminations on what it means to belong to God and do his work in the world.  At one point one of the monks reminds another that their mission "is to be brothers to all."  And we see them sustained by the daily and seasonal liturgies and practices that are rich in meaning and steeped in truth. As someone drawn to ancient and historic Christian practice, I found these scenes moving and beautiful. See it if you can.