Posted on March 3, 2004 in Accountability Morals & Ethics Reading
In the wake of last night’s article, I went searching for a book that I hadn’t read in many years, Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. After observing the “man in the glass box” for several weeks, Arendt concluded that she had been wrong in her earlier works on totalitarianism (excerpted in The Portable Hannah Arendt) where she concluded that ideology motivated bureaucracies in states such as Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia.
What mattered in the case of Eichmann is that he wanted to please his superiors. He worked hard to carry out their orders and that made him feel like a superior person to the shoe salesman that he had been and the chrome polisher that he became during his hiding out in Argentina. He wanted to be liked and respected.
This is what Arendt means by “the banality of evil”.
Arendt addresses a larger question briefly in the postscript of that book, namely the tyranny and license we invoke when we interject the bigger questions in trials of people like Eichmann:
why did it have to be the Germans? why did it have to be the Jews? what is the nature of totalitarian rule? — [it may be argued that these] are far more important than the question of the kind of crime for which a man is being tried, and the nature of the defendant upon whom justice must be pronounced; more important, too, than the question of how well our present system of justice is capable of dealing with this special type of crime and criminal it has had repeatedly to cope with since the Second World War. It can be held that the issue is no longer a particular human being, a distinct individual in the dock, but rather the German people in general, or anti-Semitism in all its forms, or the whole of modern history, or the nature of the man and original sin — so that ultimately the entire human race sits invisibly beside the defendant in the dock. All this has often been argued, and especially by those who will not rest until they have discovered an “Eichmann in every one of us.” If the defendant is taken as a symbol and the trial is a pretext to bring up matters which are apparently more interesting than the guilt or innocence of one person, then consistency demands that we bow to the assertion made by Eichmann and his lawyer: that he was brought to book because a scapegoat was needed, not only for the German Federal Republic, but also for the events as a whole and for what made them possible — that is, for anti-Semitism and totalitarian government as well as for the human race and original sin.
We don’t need to sit up there with any despot if we committed no crimes “under orders” or as otherwise directed for her or him. The important thing to fight is the desire to please others no matter what they ask.
Be accountable for what you do. That is the lesson we can derive from the rise of Adolf Eichmann.