My Turn: The Question That We Should Be Asking
Is terrorism wrong? My generation may be culturally sensitive, but we hesitate to make moral judgments. By Alison Hornstein
NEWSWEEK, Dec. 17, 2001, issue - On the morning of September 11, my entire college campus huddled around television sets, our eyes riveted in horror to images of the burning, then falling, Twin Towers. By evening there were candlelight vigils where people sought to comfort and be comforted.
But by Sept. 12, as our shock began to fade, so did our sense of being wronged. Student reactions expressed in the daily newspaper and in class pointed to the differences between our life circumstances and those of the perpetrators, suggesting that these differences had caused the previous day’s events. Noticeably absent was a general outcry of indignation at what had been the most successful terrorist attack of our lifetimes. These reactions and similar ones on other campuses have made it apparent that my generation is uncomfortable assessing, or even asking, whether a moral wrong has taken place.
I spent 14 years at a public school in Manhattan with students who came from a variety of ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds. I benefited immensely from the open-minded curriculum. In second grade we learned about the Inuit (who don’t like to be called Eskimos, our teacher taught us), and how, though they sometimes ate caribou hoofs and other foods that we generally did not find on our own dinner tables, they were essentially like us.
When my third-grade class read a story about one boy kicking another at a school-bus stop, our teacher talked about why the boy might have done what he did - maybe he was having a bad day or had had a fight with his mother that morning. The teacher stressed that the little boy had feelings that sometimes led him to do mean things. That these feelings did not necessarily justify his actions got lost in the discussion.
Later, in high school, my classmates and I learned about how women in some countries are circumcised and how, even though this seemed abhorrent to us, it was part of their culture. We discussed the pros and cons of imposing our standards on other cultures. And, overwhelmingly, we decided we should not.
We gained an important degree of emotional and psychological sophistication from looking at these issues. But being taught to think within a framework of moral and cultural relativity without learning its boundaries has seemingly created a deficiency in my generation’s ability to make moral judgments.
Just as we should pass absolute moral judgment in the case of rape, we should recognize that some actions are objectively bad, despite differences in cultural standards and values.
In a college seminar on Sept. 12 a professor said he did not see much difference between Hamas suicide bombers (who, he pointed out, saw themselves as "martyrs") and American soldiers who died fighting in World War II. When I saw one or two students nodding in agreement, I raised my hand. I wanted to say that although both groups may have believed that they were fighting for their ways of life in declared "wars," there is a considerable distinction. American soldiers, in uniform, did not have a policy of specifically targeting civilians; suicide bombers, who wear plainclothes, do. The professor didn’t call on me. The people who did get a chance to speak cited various provocations for terrorism; not one of them questioned its morality.
I had to drop the class.
The explanations students and professors give for the September 11 attacks - extreme poverty in the Middle East, America’s foreign policy in that region and religious motivation - are insightful, but they cannot provide absolution for wrongdoing. Even if a woman wears a very short, tight skirt, she should not be raped. Even if the rapist was abused as a child. Even if his wife just cheated on him. Even if the woman looked really, really good in that skirt. The rapist is still accountable. And he still did wrong.
Just as we should pass absolute moral judgment in the case of rape, we should recognize that some actions are objectively bad, despite differences in cultural standards and values. To me, hijacking planes and killing thousands of civilians falls into this category. Others may disagree. It is less important to me where people choose to draw the line than it is that they are willing to draw it at all.
Continuing to neglect the place of moral evaluations in discussing current events is not only philosophically problematic; it is also potentially suicidal. There comes a point where the refusal to take a stand on what is wrong results in its victory.
I am so glad that I learned early on not to judge people who eat things that might make me gag, like caribou hoofs or cow brains (which I traumatically encountered years later in France). I am a little less enthusiastic about the conclusions my high-school class drew over the issue of female circumcision. I do know that much of the discussion on this campus since September 11 has failed to address the question of whether an absolute wrong has been committed.
I think it should.
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Hornstein is a student at Yale University.
© 2001 Newsweek, Inc
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Michael Kelly
December 19, 2001
A non-judgemental Yale?
Not to be judgmental about it, but two cheers for Alison Hornstein.
Ms. Hornstein is a student at Yale University and she has written a column for the Dec. 17 issue of Newsweek in which she attempts to come to terms with what for her and her friends at Yale is the most troublesome question arising out of Sept. 11: Did somebody do something really bad here? This is not a question that most people have a hard time with, and that is Ms. Hornstein's point. She is surprised and bothered to find that, in the wake of the murders, many of her classmates had been unable even to address the question. Why? Because to address it would be to make a moral judgment, and to judge others is, for Ms. Hornstein's generation of properly educated young elites, the great taboo.
Ms. Hornstein writes that the initial response at Yale on Sept. 11 was one of horror: "But by Sept. 12, as our shock began to fade, so did our sense of being wronged. Student reactions expressed in the daily newspaper and in class pointed to the differences between our life circumstances and those of the perpetrators, suggesting that these differences had caused the previous day's events. Noticeably absent was a general outcry of indignation at what had been the most successful terrorist attack of our lifetimes. These reactions and similar ones on other campuses have made it apparent that my generation is uncomfortable assessing, or even asking, whether a moral wrong has taken place."
Ms. Hornstein is clear as to why she and her peers find it so difficult to judge: they were trained all their lives to be this way. Ms. Hornstein spent 14 years in a public school in Manhattan "with students who came from a variety of ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds" being tutored in an "open-minded curriculum." In second grade, she writes, she was taught that the Inuit of Alaska were "essentially like us," even thought they ate caribou hoofs. In third grade, a teacher instructed the class in a parable of violence -- one boy kicking another -- the moral of which was that the kicker "had feelings that sometimes led him to do mean things." In high school, Ms. Hornstein and her fellow students agreed that, although they personally found the practice of female genital mutilation to be abhorrent, they must accept it as part of the culture of other societies.
At some point soon after Sept. 11, listening to Yale students and professors offer rationalizations for the mass murders (poverty in the Middle East, U.S. foreign policy, etc.) Ms. Hornstein had an epiphany. Some things were just wrong. "Just as we should pass absolute moral judgment in the case of rape, we should recognize that some actions are objectively bad, despite differences in cultural standards and values. To me, hijacking planes and killing thousands of civilians falls into this category."
Hurrah! A breakthrough! A moral judgment! Yes, Ms. Hornstein, murdering thousands of people in fact is bad. But wait. A lifetime of instruction is not sloughed off quite so easily as all that; Ms. Hornstein's bold moral judgment is not quite so bold as all that. Look at her conclusion again: "To me," it begins. To me. Hijacking planes and killing thousands is not objectively bad after all. It is objectively bad only in Ms. Hornstein's opinion. Indeed, she rushes to reassure on this point: "Others may disagree." Others may disagree. And she adds: "It is less important to me where people choose to draw the line than it is that they are willing to draw it at all." Oh dear.
It is astonishing, really. Here you have an obviously smart, obviously moral person trying nobly and painfully to think her way out of the intellectual and moral cul de sac in which the addled mis-education of her life has placed her -- and she cannot, in the end, bear to do it. She cannot judge.
Ms. Hornstein, push on. Go the last mile. Go out on the limb of judgment. Mass murder is indeed objectively bad -- and not just in your opinion. Others may disagree -- but they are wrong. Indeed, they are (shut the door for this part, lest the hall monitors catch us) morally wrong. Ms. Hornstein, it is not less important where people choose to draw the line as long as they will draw it somewhere; that puts you right back with your silly professors.
Draw the line, Ms. Hornstein. Draw it where you know it belongs. Dare to judge.
©2001 Washington Post Writers Group
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Interpreting September 11: Perspectives on Terrorism
By Ron Benefiel
In the December 17 issue of Newsweek, Alison Hornstein, a student at Yale University, wrote a compelling article. She was dismayed by all the attempts of her fellow students and professors at Yale to understand terrorism by examining any of a number of social factors that may have contributed to the events of September 11. She argued that the question we should be asking in response to the terrorist attacks is essentially a moral question. Explanations related to the social or historical context are irrelevant, especially as they offer explanations that could be turned into justifications for terrorism. Presumably, we need go no further in our response than to condemn the acts and do all we can to bring those responsible to justice.
I am in agreement with Miss Hornstein on several points, beginning with the conviction that the events of September 11 were an unspeakable horror and can only be interpreted as evil. I agree with her able challenge of cultural relativism that would seemingly put so much focus on understanding the social context of those committing the atrocities that the immorality of their actions is undermined.
Furthermore, I strongly concur that those responsible should be brought to justice.
However, I am left with some unsettled and unsettling questions. Way down deep there are some things I still want to understand. I have a fear that if we don't take the time to listen, reflect, and pray, we will be left with merely reacting out of our psychological instincts that vary from revenge to patriotic protectionism. I hope that in the Christian community we are willing to dig deeper into the issue in a way that would help us to think theologically and Christianly, how to pray as the Spirit would lead us, and even how to preach from hard-to-hear Scripture passages in the wake of these events.
So, at the risk of asking unanswerable questions ... Why did this happen? What could possibly have motivated 19 young men to willingly sacrifice their lives in the name of religious conviction? Where did such zealous hatred come from? Why was it aimed at America? Why now?
I find some of the attempted answers to these questions quite troubling. Responses like, "This is God's judgment on America", or "This is God's way of calling America back to God." Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for the spiritual renewal that took place immediately following the tragedy and in some cases continues. But to attribute the events of September 11 to God's activity or God's will in any way violates everything I know about the character of God. Surely God has not ordained this. Surely God and the values of the Kingdom stand opposed to these acts of terror. As the people of God should we not be very careful about contributing to the potential confusion by linking these acts to the hand of God?
Another response I struggle with is the cosmic battle response, the idea that this is part of a much larger struggle between good and evil. The problem with this perspective is that it puts people into categories and lines everything up much too conveniently. Everything that is "us" and associated with "us" is in the "good guy" column. Everything that is "them" is in the "bad guy" column. From this perspective, the battle between God and Satan and between good and evil is played out in our world in the terrorist attacks and the subsequent war in Afghanistan. Lined up with God and "the good" are: Americans, Christians, and the U.S. and International Allied military forces. Alternatively, lined up with Satan and "the dark side" are those who too easily could be lumped into categories of enemies: Arabs, Afghans, Moslems, and all those who find themselves on the wrong side of the battlefield. In this vein, it is easy to see how God would be on "our" side in the just war "we" are fighting. Who is the "we" in this scenario? What does it mean when McDonald's signs carry messages that read "God Bless America" and sanctuaries of Christian worship are draped in red, white and blue? Is there the potential danger that "Christian" and "American" become so linked and lumped together that at least in our own minds we turn the Creator of the universe into a convenient servant of American economic and political interests? While there is an important and legitimate role for justice to be carried out in response to the horrendous terror, should we not be very careful in the process that we do not turn our understanding of God into an American god of war?
There are ideas from other perspectives (especially from the social sciences) that merit our consideration as well. While these ideas should not be used as an excuse to justify the terrible atrocities, they may help us in understanding the social contexts out of which such hatred and passion has emerged. For example, one particular political/historical critique looks at history as a dialectical process with power bases emerging only to be challenged by countervailing sources of power. From this perspective, most of the animosity can be explained in terms of a conflict between the powerful and the powerless - the economically, technologically and militarily rich being challenged by the underdogs of the world. This perspective does make some logical sense out of why some groups have resorted to terrorism. Terrorism becomes the tool of war, the equalizing variable, for those who are hopelessly outmatched and outgunned in their perceived struggle. It also makes some sense of what seems to be so baffling to many of us, the degree of support and numbers of ready recruits that the terrorist groups have been able to find among the poor and marginalized, especially in the Islamic world. If there is little in this life to live for, then the promises of a better life for those who are martyrs becomes significantly more appealing. After the fall of Communism, it was only a matter of time before the dominance of American culture in the world was challenged. The unique culture in some forms of Islam have positioned it to be the force that has all too willingly stepped forward to oblige.
Another potentially interesting perspective from the social sciences comes from the sociology of religion and the way some sociologists view fundamentalism. From this perspective, fundamentalism, whether in Afghanistan, Iran or Texas, is not understood as primarily religious in nature, but rather as a psycho-social response to social change. For a variety of reasons, the natural homes for fundamentalism are ethnicity, politics and religion. As technology, globalization, and mass marketing bring increasingly rapid changes to the world, a natural human response is to react and resist. That reaction is, at its heart, self-protective as the forces of change threaten to undermine the way of life for the fundamentalist. The result is a sectarian spirit of withdrawal from the rapidly changing world. In a world that is becoming more complex, the fundamentalist tries to simplify the world and sees everything through dichotomous lenses: black and white, good and evil, good guys and bad guys. There are no shades of gray. This, in turn, frequently leads fundamentalists to exhibit high degrees of prejudice and anger toward other groups. The response is to lash out at the things they perceive to threaten their way of life.
At best, these perspectives from the social sciences may aid us in trying to understand the social and cultural context out of which terrorism has emerged and help us know better how to respond. But it is clear that even if there are social variables that have contributed to the rise of terrorism, this in no way diminishes the culpability of those who target innocent people or perpetrate acts of violence. The perspectives from the social sciences also have their weaknesses. For one thing, they offer little in the way of hope or help on what to do. Further, even if on the one hand we should be careful about linking God's activity to the terrorist acts, these perspectives generally remove any redemptive participation of God and the Church from the discussion.
So, where is God in all of this? And how should we be thinking and praying as the people of God? It seems to me that there are several biblical/theological concepts that are especially helpful in this discussion. Let me briefly suggest four: holiness, justice, peace and hope.
As God in His essential character is a God of holiness, we as the people of God, restored by grace in the image of God, exhibit the holy character of God in the world. Holiness depicts not only the purity of God, but also the love and mercy of God. Christian responses to terrorism or any other social situation are not rooted in our human psychological reactions, but in the character of God. So, to say what must seem obvious, our responses are to be godly responses -- Christlike responses. Whatever else may be said, let the character of God in His holiness, as it is most fully expressed in the life of Christ, be our example for response. This cannot overlook the Sermon on the Mount and Jesus' words that call us to love and forgive others, including our enemies. Our prayers should include petitions that the holiness of God be expressed through us.
God is also a God of justice. God stands with those who are wronged and oppressed and against those who wrong and oppress others. The faithfulness of God's love and mercy surrounds those who have lost family and friends in this tragedy. Our confidence in Immanuel is that His abundant grace is present with those in sorrow. God's care for those who have been victimized also extends to His passion for justice. God is as concerned as we are that justice be accomplished in response to the terrorism of September 11. As Christians, we should lead the way in seeking justice and support others who pursue justice. But God's sense of justice also extends to the social systems of the world that produce despair and hopelessness among the poor of the world. To the degree that there are social, economic and political systems that have unjustly contributed to the impoverishment of people anywhere, including the poor in Arab/Moslem countries, God stands against those systems and the people who have used their influence and power to create and sustain those systems. Our prayers should include petitions that God would help us be a people who stand for justice as God stands for justice.
And God is a God of peace. The One who calls us as sons and daughters of God to be "peacemakers" is not a warlord but is, Himself, the Prince of Peace. The peace of God is not only the peace we know in our souls as the Spirit of God fills us with His presence, but it is also His divine peace and reconciliation between and among us as His people. And further, as His ambassadors, we are ambassadors of His peace and reconciliation in the world. Our prayers should include petitions that God would help us be a people of peace and reconciliation.
And finally, as God's people, we are people of hope. This hope is not a mere optimistic spirit or the power of positive thinking, but it is a hope centered in the resurrection and return of Christ. It is a hope that thrives in difficulty and flourishes in the midst of overwhelming obstacles. For it is a hope that is not limited to the circumstances at hand but rather to the power of Christ's victory over death, the promise that we shall live and reign with Him forever, and the faith that all of Creation will be restored in the final day. It is this hope that enables us to live beyond fear and to resist temptations to flee or be unduly anxious in the midst of trouble. September 11 and much of what has followed has created a great deal of uncertainty and apprehension in our world. But our hope in Christ holds us steady in the storm. Our prayers should include petitions that God would help us to be a people of hope.
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Ron Benefiel is president of Nazarene Theological Seminary in Kansas City, Missouri
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