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On Trying to Love Terrorists: Reflections on 911 C.S. Lewis gave his radio talks over the BBC in wartime. In fact, when his voice first broke the air in August, 1941, the echoes of the bombs that had left much of London in ruins had only recently been stilled. The “London Blitz,” had begun one evening in September, 1940, initiated by nearly two months of nightly air raids, and had ended in May, 1941. The times were trying and uncertain. The United States would not enter the war for another few months. The Nazis were just across the Channel in occupied France, and worries over an invasion of the island had been widespread since the previous summer. Indeed, Lewis himself had spent a dismal evening that summer with Tolkien and others, speculating on whether the Nazis would find objectionable material in their books that would single them out. The British must have hungered for some sense of meaning, because the first series of lectures, “Right and Wrong as a Clue to the Meaning of the Universe?,” were highly successful. People in homes and pubs hung on the Oxford tutor’s every word, as he laid out a case for the existence of God as the reality behind the Moral Law. He would ultimately deliver three more series of radio talks over the next couple of years, including “Christian Behavior,” delivered on eight consecutive Sunday afternoons, from September to November, 1942. By now, there was no mistake about Hitler’s ambitions for the world domination of his Third Reich. The world had begun to learn of the Nazi death camps, and Hitler’s atrocities-“crimes against humanity.” If ever there was a character in history who earned the hatred of the world, it was Der Fuhrer. ABSURD? Imagine, then, being assigned the task of explaining to a largely non-Christian or nominally Christian audience Christ’s commandment to love and forgive even our enemies--even the Nazis! The hatred that is engendered for such mass murderers just feels like the correct emotional response. The suggestion that one ought to love and forgive even a Hitler strikes most of us as morally absurd and psychologically impossible. Sigmund Freud raised this as an objection to a Christian worldview, noting that strangers are unworthy of our love, so that it would actually be wrong of us to extend to undeserving strangers what should be reserved for friends, family and lovers. Indeed, the notion of extending such love even to an enemy struck Freud as preposterous: “This arouses even stronger opposition in me,” he said. And Michael Shermer, a contemporary cultured despiser of Christianity, has put the point even more forcefully: "Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King heroically employed an unalloyed New Testament ethic and all paid with their lives (receiving what is called the “sucker’s payoff” in game theory). Turning the other cheek only works if the opposition is inherently benevolent or has chosen a purely cooperative game strategy. In most cases, defections creep in often enough to make a purely Gandhian morality ineffective, even dangerous." Only a “sucker” would heed the advice of the Galilean. This is a loser’s strategy. Better to play “tit for tat.” Lewis was fully aware of his historical context and the seeming absurdity of Christ’s admonition, and he voiced the objection himself: "To mention the subject at all is to be greeted with howls of anger. It is not that people think this too high and difficult a virtue: it is that they think it hateful and contemptible. ‘That sort of talk makes them sick,’ they say. And half of you already want to ask me, I wonder how you’d feel about forgiving the Gestapo if you were a Pole or a Jew?’" To this last question, he adds, “So do I. I wonder very much.” Happily, Hitler’s thousand-year Reich lasted a mere twelve years. Hitler evaded justice only by committing suicide. The Allied forces won the war. But nature abhors a vacuum, and history, likewise, abhors extended periods of peace. Once again, we face an enemy with an ideology of evil who is determined to destroy all that is sacred. We have looked on in horror as madmen have commandeered airliners to be used as weapons of mass destruction. On an almost daily basis, there is news of Muslim extremists who have detonated bombs on public buses or on street corners at market time, killing and maiming children. People just like you and me have been kidnapped and subjected to a gruesome and torturous death by slow beheading. Terrorists are constantly seeking an opening in our defenses, and, so far, it is only lack of opportunity that has prevented their use of nuclear or chemical or biological weapons on an American city. How does Christ’s admonition to love and forgive our enemies strike you when the enemy in question is an Osama Bin Laden or an Abu Musab al-Zarqawi? “I wonder how you would feel about forgiving Al-Qaeda if your son had been in the towers on September 11th?” As with Lewis, I can only reply, “So do I. I wonder very much.” Indeed, I confess that, thinking about these murderers, I find things in my own heart that are dark and disturbing. Finally bringing myself to watch the film, Flight 93, and thinking about the plight of those passengers and others on that day, what I felt was a burning hatred for, and rage at, those responsible. Love your enemy? How very absurd. But, as Lewis himself observed, this hateful command to love is not a requirement to engender feelings of affection, whether we are speaking of an enemy or a neighbor. Immanuel Kant, likewise observed that the command to love cannot be to find within ourselves feelings of affection, as such “pathological” affections are, typically, beyond our immediate control and the scope of responsibility. Had Christ said, “Like your enemies,” he might as well have commanded us to sprout wings and migrate south for the winters. He would have stood a better chance at teaching cats to bark. What’s to like about a man who is willing to detonate a bomb in the midst of a gaggle of schoolchildren? Had Christ commanded affection for our enemies, then Freud’s objection would have been sound. But He did not, and so it is not. Much less are we enjoined to find our enemies attractive in some way. Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, alleged mastermind of the 911 attacks, for instance, is a *shockingly* hairy man. CLASH OF WORLDVIEWS We should be kind to Sigmund and Michael for their inability to get their minds around Christ’s teaching. The reason is that both approach the subject having presupposed a metaphysic-a worldview-upon which it is a manifest absurdity. On atheistic naturalism, what we call morality is a byproduct of our evolution. Early hominids found themselves in circumstances such that group cooperation had survival value. The tribe that consisted of members with some willingness to sacrifice their own interests for the interest of the group as a whole tended to be more successful at tribal warfare, or even in hunting and gathering. They thus had a greater tendency to live long enough to reproduce. Assuming that the root of the cooperative behavior is genetic and thus heritable (oversimplifying for a moment, we may speak of a “cooperation gene”), the offspring of these individuals would have inherited a basic propensity to be compliant. Thus, altruism-the propensity to act for the sake of others rather than oneself-emerged as a mechanism of survival. As such, it is predictably limited in scope. As philosopher Elliott Sober and biologist David Sloan Wilson have noted in their book, Unto Others, the most plausible Darwinian account of altruism-“group selection”-predicts within-group “niceness” and between-group “nastiness.” Indeed, philosopher James Rachels, in explaining the kind of altruism that we should expect given Darwinism, describes the self-sacrificial altruism of a Mother Theresa as a “variation”: she turns out to be the dispositional equivalent of a mutant! But a Christian worldview affords a conceptual foundation for Christ’s command that renders it intelligible. All human persons are created in the image of God. As such, they possess a value that is categorical--unconditional. From a Christian perspective, a person’s ultimate worth is grounded in what she is, as a bearer of the imago dei-not what she does, in terms of her contribution to society or to the world. On such a view, while there may well be people who are useless--in that either they make no positive contribution to the societal good or are a positive hindrance-there is, nevertheless, no such thing as a worthless person--even if a terrorist or a mass murderer. Christian love or charity is commanded precisely because it is the morally appropriate regard for persons created in God’s image. Indeed, the love that Christ commands is categorical in a way that mirrors the unconditional worth of all persons. Jesus observes that “even tax collectors” (and used car salesmen) love those who love them in return. There is nothing special here, as the love in question is conditional: if unrequited, it will cease. This is merely Shermer’s “tit for tat,” and it is ultimately grounded in self-interest. But if the worth of a person is unconditional, then she should be valued in a way that is also unconditional. The injunction to love even one’s enemy, as difficult and counterintuitive as this may seem, is a corollary of the Christian doctrine of the imago dei. Charity in this sense is a moral attitude of regard for the dignity or inherent worth of the person. PACIFISM? How will such a regard look in practice? If it engages the emotions at all, it is not at the level of affection for one’s enemies but of sorrow over their present state, and a longing for their reconciliation to God. For a person who has been created by and for God, who bears His image, to be overtaken by evil, as terrorists certainly are, is a moral tragedy of eternal import. It is like the ruination of a great work of art or the downfall of a great civilization. Those who love as Christ loves lament the wickedness of such an enemy and even pray for their spiritual restoration. How shall Christ’s disciples conduct themselves in the face of an enemy who is bent on the annihilation of all that is dear, including their families and friends and the liberties that they enjoy? While some find the move from Christian love to absolute pacifism to be seamless and intuitive, I do not. The evil that would prevail should the terrorists succeed is far too great. Countering their violence with the force necessary to stop them is not only a prudential necessity but a moral one. They must be stopped--killed if necessary--in the very name of humanity. And, if captured, it may well be that justice--not vengeance--requires their lawful execution. Lewis himself thought that it is sometimes permissible to kill one’s enemy. He was no pacifist, and even offered a compelling argument for the incoherence of pacifism in his essay, ‘Why I Am Not a Pacifist.” If he is correct, then love for one’s enemy must be consistent with such extreme measures in certain circumstances. Pacifism is a variety of absolutism about moral rules. Ethicists typically regard moral rules as prima facie obligations or duties such that, under normal circumstances, the duty applies. But there are possible circumstances in which one is morally justified in violating a rule that would otherwise hold. For example, I promise to meet a student for office hours at 10:00. All other things being equal, my duty dictates that I keep my promise and show up. But along the way, I pass an accident with injuries, and I am the first on the scene. Morality would also seem to dictate that I stop and help. But if I stop, I fail to keep my promised appointment. Does my duty to help override my duty to keep my promise? One would think so. But the pacifist regards the rule against physical violence as inviolable. Under no circumstances is it ever permissible to use violence against another person. In other words, it is impossible for the rule against violence to be outweighed or overridden by other moral considerations. But why think a thing like that? Pacifism entails that the passengers on Flight 93, in attempting to fight off the hijackers and take control of the aircraft, were being immoral. Todd Beamer’s immortal words, “Let’s roll!” should rather have been, “Let’s talk this over,” or “Let’s remain seated.” If the pacifist is right, it would have been better for Hitler to advance unopposed than for the free world to resist in what became the Second World War. Allied forces would never have liberated those emaciated survivors of the death camps. The pacifist must believe that the rule against physical violence is of sufficient weight so as to trump all other moral rules that may come into conflict with it. But what of the concern for justice and for the flourishing of the human spirit? Is it reasonable to think that the state of affairs in which violence is used is always worse than whatever state of affairs obtains in the event that we passively refrain? Is it better to allow a daughter to be raped than to use whatever force necessary to fight off her attackers? Here, I’ll chime in with Freud as he quoted the Latin, “Credo quia absurdum”: if I am asked to believe this then I am asked to believe an absurdity. Just as there are fates worse than death, there are circumstances worse than killing. Policemen are called “peace officers,” yet they carry weapons, and are sometimes called upon to use them. And if God’s original intention for his creation was Shalom--a state of “universal, flourishing, wholeness and delight,” as one author has put it--sometimes the only way of sustaining Shalom--or at least sustaining our efforts towards its approximation--is through violence, and, perhaps, bloodshed. This is at once paradoxical, lamentable and true. LOVE AND DEATH? We are commanded to love, and we are not permitted to hate. I maintain that desiring or intending someone’s death in certain circumstances is, or can be, compatible with such love. It follows that intending someone’s death does not, by itself, entail hatred for the individual. Love, in those circumstances, will manifest itself in the form of regret. The killing of an enemy combatant in a just war is, or should be, a particularly striking case of what Aristotle has called a “mixed voluntary action,” as when the Captain throws the cargo over the side-something that he wishes not to do--in order to save the ship from sinking in dire circumstances-something he very much wishes. The death of al-Zarqawi was attended by much rejoicing, but the rejoicing should be over the end of his reign of terror-not the end of the man. Both his ill-lived life and his death were tragic. What, then, does hate itself entail? I take it that to hate an individual is to dehumanize him and regard him as being of no worth whatsoever--a “waste of skin.” It is essentially to regard God’s creation of this person as a divine blunder. It is to fail to grieve with God over this soul gone astray. It is a damning attitude that wishes to see him in hell. It is to regard him as categorically beyond forgiveness--no matter what. It is to take the attitude represented in the story of Jonah, who was angry when the wicked Ninevites repented, resulting in God’s forgiveness. He hated them in such a way that their destruction was preferable to their repentance and restoration. Have the terrorists crossed a line such that an eternity of their torment in hell would be preferable to their reconciliation with their Creator? We are to pray for our enemies--including our worst enemies. I maintain that imprecatory prayer, calling for their utter defeat, may consistently be followed in the next breath with petitionary prayer for their ultimate well-being. This, of course, includes a full restoration of the imago dei within. muddle's blog | login to post comments
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