Os israelenses não perdoam Hannah Arendt por sua cobertura, para a New Yorker, sobre o julgamento do criminoso nazista Adolf Eichmann, sequestrado pelo Mossad em Buenos Aires em 1960, numa das mais espetaculares ações do famoso serviço secreto (ou de inteligência e ação, inclusive para eliminar inimigos de Israel e assassinos de judeus), e julgado em Jerusalém um ano depois. Ela teria sido "complacente" com o criminoso nazista, sob o famoso conceito de "banalidade do mal". Não sei se foi apenas por isso, ou se também contou sua amizade com Heidegger, o filósofo que se tornou aliado do regime nazista por conveniência.
Em todo caso, o autor deste longo artigo discute amplamente o papel de Hannah Arendt no contexto do debate sobre o Holocausto e a própria noção de judaísmo, para uma laica como ela era.
Fica a sugestão de leitura. Agradeço ao mestre Celso Lafer ter me habilitado o acesso ao artigo abaixo, para o qual eu mesmo lhe chamei a atenção, uma vez que recebo as chamadas do Haaretz, sem ser assinante do jornal. Meu outro amigo judeu, Fabio Koifman, também me mandou o mesmo artigo. Aos dois, obrigado.
Paulo Roberto de Almeida
Brasília, 14 de maio de 2019
Why Does Hannah Arendt's 'Banality of Evil' Still Anger Israelis?
Nearly
60 years after she attended and wrote about the Eichmann trial, Hannah Arendt
remains a controversial figure among intellectuals in Israel
By
Haaretz, May 11, 2019
https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/.premium.MAGAZINE-why-does-hannah-arendt-s-banality-of-evil-still-anger-israelis-1.7213979
“A time will come, that you will not live to
see, when Jews will erect a monument to you in Israel… and they will proudly
claim you as their own,” the philosopher Karl Jaspers wrote to his close friend
Hannah Arendt in 1963. That monument remains unbuilt in Israel 2019. Nearly 60
years have gone by since the trial of Adolf Eichmann, and Arendt’s name
continues to generate fierce criticism among many Israeli intellectuals.
Although she is considered by many one of the greatest thinkers of the 20th
century, and even though she was a Holocaust survivor and a Zionist (at least
for a certain period) – she was boycotted in Israel for many years and most of
her writings have only recently been translated into Hebrew.
The strong feelings that Arendt, who died in 1975, arouses in
scholars, especially Israelis, spring primarily from her 1963 book “Eichmann in
Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil.” Based on a series of articles Arendt wrote
for The New Yorker, the book is critical of the way Israel conducted
the Eichmann trial and the way the defendant
was portrayed. Instead of the murderous, anti-Semitic monster the prosecution
sought to paint, Arendt saw something very different: a new type of mass
murderer, but without malicious, necessarily lethal, motives, who neither
considered the significance of his deeds or accept responsibility for them. She
attributed to Eichmann what she termed “thoughtlessness,” an inability to think
from the other’s point of view.
Her book immediately sparked bitter controversy that
persisted throughout the 1960s. Arendt was denounced, including by some of her
closest friends, as anti-Zionist and said to an example of “Jewish
self-hatred.” She was accused of being favorably disposed toward Eichmann and
of absolving him of guilt and responsibility for his crimes. Her good friend,
the kabbala scholar Gershom Scholem, wrote to her that she lacked “love for the
Jewish people.” Relations between them were severed in the wake of her response
to his letter.
For long decades, Arendt was unofficially ostracized in
Israel. Her books were not translated into Hebrew and her work was not
discussed, in either the academic or public spheres. She was effectively
subjected to political-intellectual excommunication. It was not until 2000 that
“Eichmann in Jerusalem” was published here, and the Hebrew-reading public had
the opportunity to judge the text for itself.
More recently, Arendt’s status in Israel has begun to change.
Though trenchant criticism is still leveled at her, over the past two decades,
a process has been underway that reflects new approaches to her thought. She is
no longer taboo: Her writings are the subject of critical and more favorable
consideration by Israeli scholars, among them Adi Ophir, Michal Ben-Naftali and
Leora Bilsky.
One reason for her gradual inclusion in public discourse is
the dominance of post-Zionist and postmodern discourse in academic circles
beginning in the 1990s. The first international conference on Arendt to be held
in Israel took place in Jerusalem in 1997, with its lectures later issued as a
collection of articles (in English), written mainly by scholars from abroad,
edited by historian Prof. Steven Aschheim.
A notable step in introducing Arendt into the Israeli
discourse was made by historian Idith Zertal. She researched Arendt’s thought
and the controversies surrounding her, and beginning in the 1990s, published
articles on these subjects in Israeli journals and newspapers. Prof. Zertal
also discussed Arendt extensively in her book “Israel’s Holocaust and the
Politics of Nationhood” (published in English in 2005), which dealt with the
politics of Holocaust memory. In 2004, in the wake of the first Hebrew-language
conference on Arendt, held at Tel Aviv University, a first collection of essays
in Hebrew also appeared. In 2010, Zertal’s Hebrew translation of Arendt’s
groundbreaking work “The Origins of Totalitarianism” was published.
The Arendt renaissance continued with translations into
Hebrew of additional books, among them “The Human Condition” and “The Jewish
Writings.” In the past decade, local universities have offered courses on
Arendt, a play about her life was staged here and she was the subject of an
Israeli documentary film.
Arendt challenged, and continues to challenge, the Jewish and
Zionist consensus. The conceptual revolution she fomented with the term
“banality of evil” and its relevance 56 years after it first saw the light of
day, remain difficult to swallow even in our world today. What is it about that
concept that continues to the present to stir such deep unease among Israeli
intellectuals?
Arrested by the Gestapo
Arendt was a Holocaust survivor in every sense, even if she
did not define herself as such. She was born in 1906 to an assimilated Jewish
family in Germany, and studied philosophy from an early age. She was Martin
Heidegger’s pupil and wrote her doctoral thesis at the University of Heidelberg
under the supervision of Karl Jaspers. In 1933 she was arrested by the Gestapo
for engaging in Zionist activity, and was released after a week by a young
officer she befriended. She succeeded in fleeing with her mother and reached
Paris, where she spent eight years as a refugee. She also worked for Youth
Aliyah, organizing groups of children and adolescents for immigration to
Palestine. Following the occupation of France, Arendt was arrested and
incarcerated in the Gurs camp in the country’s southwest, but managed to escape
within a few weeks.
In 1941, Arendt and her husband, Heinrich Bluecher, fled to
the United States, for which they had refugee visas, via Lisbon. She became an
American citizen in 1951 and lived in the country, pursuing a distinguished
academic career, until her death in 1975.
Arendt’s lengthy refugee experience went a long way toward
shaping her political thought. Her Judaism and her approach to the Jewish
question also played an important part in this context. Arendt espoused a
strong affinity for Zionism, even though she was critical of Zionist ideology
and was increasingly censorious in regard to Israel.
Why, despite her biography, did her book generate such a
stormy controversy? The answer lies, in part, in her critique of the political
nature of the Eichmann trial. Arendt saw it as a show trial – a political event
with a specific agenda. She took issue with the fact that the majority of the
testimonies were not relevant to proving the defendant’s guilt. She also
objected to the prosecution’s focus on the legal category of a “crime against
the Jewish people,” which was intended to promote a Zionist-historical
narrative in which the Holocaust was depicted as another link in a long chain
of persecution of Jews. That approach, she argued, attested to the fact that
the court did not grasp fully the singularity of Auschwitz. In her conception,
the Nazis’ crimes were unprecedented and constituted “crimes against humanity.”
However, the source of most of the anger against her lay
elsewhere. What brought about her boycott in Israel was her interpretation of
Eichmann and her characterization of the victims of the Shoah.
Arendt objected to the prosecution’s depiction of Eichmann as
having been guided by a racist, murderous ideology. She offered an alternative
interpretation: Eichmann as a bureaucrat engaged in advancing his career, who
avoided contending with the consequences of his own deeds. Arendt contemplated
the possible emergence of a “desk murderer” who perpetrates his harrowing
crimes from afar, doing no actual killing himself and viewing himself as a
law-abiding citizen who obeys his superiors’ orders. This was the context in
which she coined her contentious and most widely misunderstood concept of the
“banality of evil.”
Though Arendt’s book was subtitled “A Report on the Banality
of Evil,” the term itself appears only once in the text, near the end. It has
been subjected to endless interpretation. One reason for the initial
bewilderment was that Arendt did not explain the term in the book’s first
edition. She did so only in a postscript that appeared in a revised and
expanded edition published in 1965. Her later references to the term and her
personal correspondence with friends shed further light on what she meant.
Arendt explained that she had not attempted in the book to
articulate a comprehensive theory of the essence of evil, but rather intended
to point to a phenomenon she had noticed during the trial. By “banality of
evil,” Arendt had in mind two interconnected ideas. The first is that Eichmann
was not a satanic figure or, for that matter, an extreme anti-Semite. He was an
ordinary person. He had no motives for his actions other than promoting his own
advancement. His deeds were monstrous, but the man himself was banal.
The notion of the “banality of evil” refers to the paradox
created by totalitarian society, in which an unprecedented crime is executed
optimally by an ordinary bureaucratic apparatus; it suggests the disparity
between the vast dimensions of the crime and the unexceptional persona of the
criminal. This challenged a long theological, philosophical, moral and legal
tradition, extending from Augustine to Kant, which maintained that acts of evil
must necessarily be a manifestation of evil intentions, and that the degree of
the evil that finds expression in crimes must be consistent with the level of
malice of the motives.
The second element that Arendt perceived in Eichmann was
“thoughtlessness,” a trait she defined as the “almost total inability ever to
look at anything from the other fellow’s point of view.” But this did not
absolve him of responsibility for his deeds. The lesson to be learned from the
Eichmann trial, in her view, was that this sort of thoughtlessness, which is
“by no means identical with stupidity,” can “wreak more havoc than all the evil
instincts taken together which, perhaps, are inherent in man.” Her primary
argument was that in the atmosphere prevailing in Nazi Germany, Eichmann could not
have distinguished between good and evil. Arendt termed him a “new type of
criminal,” who commits his crimes “under circumstances that make it well-nigh
impossible to know or to feel that he is doing wrong.”
What is so difficult to accept about Arendt’s hypothesis of
the “banality of evil” – and what generated opposition to the book in Israel –
is that she was positing here a new type of conscience. Contrary to the
judgment handed down in the trial, Arendt did not believe that Eichmann needed
to "close his ears to the voice of conscience," or that he lacked a
conscience altogether, but that the voice of conscience of
"respectable" German society did not tell him that he should feel
guilty for his deeds.
Whereas the law in enlightened states presupposes that the
voice of conscience tells everyone, "You shall not kill," the law in
Hitler’s state required the voice of conscience to tell everyone, "You
shall kill." Indeed, one of Eichmann’s claims in the trial was, Arendt
writes, “that there were no voices from the outside to arouse his conscience.”
An additional reason for the rancor directed at Arendt was
her criticism concerning the image of the victims of the Holocaust. She
objected to the prosecution’s systematic evasion of dealing with the
cooperation of the leaders of the Judenräte (the Jewish councils) with the
Nazis. One of the most difficult allegations to accept in the book is that if
the Jews had been less well organized, and if they hadn’t had a leadership, the
overall number of victims would not have reached the dimensions it did.
“To a Jew,” Arendt asserts, “this role of the Jewish leaders
in the destruction of their own people is undoubtedly the darkest chapter of
the whole dark story.” This hypothetical claim is of course unprovable
speculation by Arendt.
Moral outrage
Some of Arendt’s detractors understood the term “banality of
evil” as a description of the crimes themselves. By this thinking, if the
Nazis’ crimes were banal, it follows that they were not unforgivable. Others
interpreted her comments about the responsibility of Jewish leaders as a
classic instance of blaming the victim. Both groups saw her book as a dangerous
blurring of boundaries that could lead to moral nihilism. Criticism of this
sort, which was raised immediately upon the book’s publication, is still being
voiced.
Israeli historian Anita Shapira, for example, maintains that
Arendt’s critical approach reflects moral ambiguity, and this is what has made
her a favorite of postmodernists. “‘Nothing is at seems.’ There is no truth, no
lies, no victim, no murderer. No one is guilty, none are innocent, there is no
hierarchy of values, no value is absolute,” Shapira wrote, in a 2004 article,
“The Eichmann Trial: Changing Perspectives.”
Elhanan Yakira, former head of the philosophy department of
the Hebrew University, asserted in his book “Post-Zionism, Post-Holocaust”
(published in English in 2009) that “Eichmann in Jerusalem” is not only
Arendt’s worst book, it is also “morally scandalous” and a philosophical-moral
failure. In a later article, he explained that his attempt to expose the book’s
intellectual failure is part of a broad effort to expose the moral failure of
today’s critics of Zionism, who cast aspersions on Israel with “the systematic
use of the Holocaust as an ideological weapon.”
One of the flagrant mistakes in Yakira’s book is his claim
that Arendt engaged in an "act of suppression" vis-a-vis the Nazis’
crimes. Arendt, he maintains, barely refers to the annihilation itself. It is
true that Arendt’s theory of totalitarianism focused more on the concentration
camps and less on the death camps, but this in no way stemmed from a
“suppression” of the crimes. The atrocities of Auschwitz jolted every fiber of
her being. The act of annihilation is present throughout her book on Eichmann
and guides her thinking.
One author who went a lot farther is Tzvia Greenfield, a
Haredi journalist (and briefly a Knesset member from Meretz). In her 2017
Hebrew-language book “Collapse: The Disintegration of the Political Left in
Israel,” she repeats the same baseless accusations against Arendt that were
voiced 50 years ago. Time and again she reiterates that according to Arendt,
“it was precisely the Jews themselves who effectively brought about the
catastrophe of the annihilation” through the cooperation of the Judenräte with
the Nazis. Greenfield even maintains that Arendt asserted that “Eichmann is the
true victim of the historical events.”
It’s doubtful whether Greenfield, who accuses Arendt of
expressing views that “border on Holocaust denial,” no less and no more, read
“Eichmann in Jerusalem” carefully. Otherwise, it’s hard to understand how she
could fault Arendt for undermining the “implications of the Holocaust” in order
to justify Israel’s violent treatment of the Palestinians, in a book that was
published four years before the Six-Day War. Greenfield draws a direct line
between Arendt’s criticism of David Ben-Gurion and Zionist ideology, and the
BDS boycott movement, which she maintains is undermining Israel’s legitimacy.
Let’s set the record straight: Nowhere in the book does
Arendt absolve the Nazis in general or Eichmann in particular of guilt. Arendt
was vehemently opposed to the “cog in the machinery” theory, according to which
Eichmann was supposedly not responsible for his actions. Functionaries are
human beings, too, and as such are blameworthy and guilty. Eichmann, she
argues, was accused as a human being; an individual human was on trial, not the
entire Nazi regime. Nor, in contrast to many of her friends, did she object to
the death penalty he received.
Furthermore, Arendt never claimed that the Jews were to blame
for their own destruction. Her consideration of the role of the Judenrat is
indeed an infuriating and painful part of her book, marked by a harshly
judgmental approach and insensitivity. Even though her discussion of the topic
covers only 12 pages, it was the issue that sparked the fiercest response and
the most intense anger against her. Her views concerning the behavior of the
Jewish leadership during the Holocaust were very similar to the dominant
approach in Israel during its first two decades of existence. The judgmental
approach toward the Jewish Police and the leaders of the Judenräte, and against
everyone who was suspected of “collaboration” with the Nazis prevailed in the
country. This was reflected in legislation – in particular the Law for the
Punishment of Nazis and Their Collaborators (1950); in the Kapo trials in the
1950s, and in the trial of Rudolf Kastner in 1955.
At the same time, Arendt did not censure the victims
themselves, who went to their death, supposedly, like “sheep to slaughter.” On
the contrary: She was critical of Gideon Hausner, the chief prosecutor, for
asking survivor witnesses over and over, “‘Why did you not protest?’ ‘Why did
you board the train?’ … ‘Why didn’t you revolt and charge and attack?’” She
argued that these were silly, cruel questions, which attested to a total
misunderstanding of life under the murderous terror of the Nazi dictatorship.
Moreover, she also made a point of noting that no other
non-Jewish population under German occupation behaved differently. Idith Zertal
adds in her book that the prosecutor’s approach aimed less at understanding the
Jewish situation under Nazi rule, than at serving the needs of the Zionist narrative
and self-image.
The stand Arendt took on the side of the survivors was given
symbolic expression in her choice to sit among them in the courtroom rather
than in the section reserved for VIPs and journalists. The hall, Arendt wrote,
“was filled with ‘survivors,’ with middle-aged and elderly people, immigrants
from Europe, like myself, who knew by heart all there was to know, and who were
in no mood to learn any lessons and certainly did not need this trial to draw
their own conclusions.” Like many Holocaust survivors, Arendt too thought that
the huge crimes committed by the Nazis could not be adequately represented
through the trial, but nevertheless acknowledged that there were no other tools
with which to judge them.
Arendt had little patience – neither for Hausner’s
theatricalities and nor for the dozens of witnesses whose testimony was heard
in the trial. Her rhetoric was at times sharply honed, perhaps excessively so.
Her tone was steeped in irony and at times showed a lack of empathy toward some
of the testimony, infuriating the Jewish community in Israel and abroad. As the
Jewish, Turkish-American philosopher Seyla Benhabib noted, many of the terms
Arendt used in her book showed an astonishing lack of perspective and
judiciousness, and above all strong emotional involvement and lack of distance
from the topic she was examining. She wasn’t able to find "the right
public language, the right discourse through which to narrate past sorrow,
suffering, and loss."
Zertal, too, believes that Arendt’s rhetoric played a part in
rendering the book controversial. “The things themselves," she told me in
an interview, "the caustic, compassionless wording, were frequently more
than the people of the time and the people of this place could bear.”
But above and beyond that, she says, “What was acceptable and
tolerated for the people of the Yishuv, the Zionist collective ‘we,’ was not
permissible for the ‘foreign,’ Diaspora, anti-Zionist woman, as her critics
termed her. She burst into the midst of the organized event of the trial and
disrupted its ideological messages, which were on the brink of theology, about
Zionist redemption that sprang from Jewish annihilation. The fact that she was
a woman and a groundbreaking thinker, possessing a brilliant intellect, in a
realm of knowledge that was completely ruled by men, did not facilitate her
acceptance.”
Beyond this, it is worth dwelling on the ambivalent position
that Arendt represents as a Jewish refugee, on the one hand, whose life was
shaped by virtue of her Jewishness and by her ties with Zionism, and her
critique of the Zionist project, on the other hand, as an outside observer.
According to the writer and translator Michal Ben-Naftali, who was deeply
influenced by Arendt and devoted a book to her, “It is impossible even for a
moment to accuse Arendt of being alienated from her Jewishness. Not only is she
occupied with the commitment and responsibility that stem from that identity,
but from the 1940s onward she writes about Jewish and Zionist matters from a
position of involvement and concern, though this never leads to integration or
an unequivocal sense of solidarity.”
Ben-Naftali adds, “It seems to me that precisely the uncommon
fusion of caring and critical distance generates suspiciousness toward her in
the best case, and massive recoil in the less-than-best case.”
Saving the Jewish state
Even though Arendt didn’t see herself as belonging to any
political group, and even if it’s hard to tag her as “left” or “right,” her
critical writing anticipated some of the central issues that appeared years
later in studies conducted by the “New Historians” and “post-Zionists.” Already
in early articles from the 1940s, Arendt was critical of the Jewish
nation-state, supported binational and multinational political frameworks, and
warned about the threat posed to the Arab population of Palestine. In her book
about Eichmann she came out against what she perceived as the Zionist project’s
exploitation of the memory of the Holocaust. Arendt touched plenty of raw
nerves, which continue to generate searing disputes.
In 1948, at the height of Israel’s War of Independence, and
long before the Nation-State Law was promulgated and before Prime Minister
Benjamin Netanyahu presented the plans for of Auschwitz-Birkenau at the UN
General Assembly, Arendt wrote the following in an article titled “To Save the
Jewish Homeland”: “And even if the Jews were to win the war, its end would find
the unique possibilities and the unique achievements of Zionism in Palestine
destroyed. The land that would come into being would be something quite other
than the dream of world Jewry, Zionist and non-Zionist. The ‘victorious’ Jews
would live surrounded by an entirely hostile Arab population, secluded inside
ever-threatened borders, absorbed with physical self-defense to a degree that
would submerge all other interests and activities.
“The growth of a Jewish culture would cease to be the concern
of the whole people; social experiments would have to be discarded as
impractical luxuries; political thought would center around military strategy;
economic development would be determined exclusively by the needs of war.”
Zertal’s 2018 book “Refusal: Conscientious Objection in
Israel” (in Hebrew), which deals with the issue of political evil and the
possibilities of rising up against it, examines the intellectual, political and
historical background of conscientious objection to army service in Israel,
particularly in relation to the occupation. “Eichmann in Jerusalem” is the
book’s point of departure. Zertal shows how Arendt’s ideas, including the
“banality of evil,” “which were rejected and repressed for years, are present
in the thinking of young Israelis and influence their choices and their
decisions” during their army service and afterward. The book contains
interviews with soldiers of various ranks, from reserve officers to former Shin
Bet security services director Ami Ayalon, who talk about how they became
functionaries who only did their duty in operational actions, in a narrow realm
that left them little room for thought.
“She is undoubtedly one of the greatest and most influential
thinkers of the 20th century,” Zertal told me. “And she chose consciously not
to be a philosopher in the sense of thinking and reflection in isolation from
the world, but saw herself as a political thinker whose philosophy is nourished
by life’s experiences. She experienced it all first-hand: world wars, Nazism,
the Holocaust, totalitarianism, revolutions, postcolonialism, refugeehood and
migration. Rare are the thinkers who have introduced into their work so many
critical issues for deciphering the world, and did so with an intellectual
passion and brilliance and with such uncompromising courage as Arendt.” I asked
Ben-Naftali what she thinks makes Arendt unique. She replied that she was drawn
to her thought “because of her nonconformist courage and because of her effort to
dissolve clichés and norms of thought impartially.” According to Ben-Naftali,
“Arendt’s writing is informed by tremendous complexity. It seems to me that
many people cannot bear complexity in contexts that they consider to be
‘volatile.’ That tendency renders many of the debates on public issues
superficial and effectively superfluous, and not only in this context.
“In a certain sense, Arendt knew that. She knew she was
aiming for what was intolerable and was acting just plain tactlessly, touching
on things that were not yet ripe to be touched on. There aren’t many people who
are capable of doing that and paying the kind of price that she did. In a way,
the book was aimed, already when it was published, at the sensibilities of a
generation younger than the one Arendt herself was part of. From this point of
view, Arendt’s writing still awaits us in years to come.”
Dr. Michal Aharony is a researcher of the Holocaust and
political philosophy, and author of “Hannah Arendt and the Limits of Total
Domination: The Holocaust, Plurality, and Resistance” (Routledge, 2015). Her
website is https://michalaharony.net/.
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