On the Darkness in Gaza: A Little Light, from Readers
Criticism, insight, links
My last three posts were spurred, variously, by the war in Gaza. Readers’ responses have given me a lot to think about. Today I share that with you.
Stefanik v. Harvard et al.
Rep. Elise Stefanik, in a congressional hearing, attacked Ivy League university presidents. I accused her of ignorance and bad faith. The presidents, I said, flailed. And therefore, remarked one reader, they failed – failed their Jewish students, who are threatened on their campuses. Princeton’s president, who was not on the stand that day, suggested better answers:
I have never heard calls for genocide, or calls for murder, on this campus, and I don't expect ever to hear those calls.
But if he did?
Calling for the genocide . . . of Jews or any group is always wrong . . . Punishing people for pure speech is almost always wrong. Princeton’s commitment to free speech means I do have to sometimes protect the right of people to say things that I find repugnant, hateful, and awful.
[But] even when Princeton cannot censor speech, we can and will respond vigorously to speech that violates our values.
How? The university has many tools.
We can sponsor better speech, we can state our values, we can support our students . . . in a way that is even-handed and fair to all viewpoints and all identities
Gaza: Origin Stories
A brief history of what preceded the founding of Israel. Christian antisemitism and Western imperialism laid the groundwork, blindly, for endless conflict in the area. Three days later (no doubt spurred by my post!) the New York Times published a panel discussion by historians of that history. Many readers shared it with me, one of whom remarked that it included something I had overlooked: That Britain used its decades of authority over the area to advance its own interests, rather than those of the people who lived there.
Another reader sought to fill a different gap in the history I presented: Why Arab states refuse to accept Palestinian refugees. She found that the countries have become indifferent to the Palestinian cause.
Just War principles
A war that is just must have a legitimate goal. If the Arab states now are indifferent to the Palestinian cause, Hamas alone may not pose an existential threat. As Israelis have pointed out from the outset, their own government failed: It could have prevented October 7. The intelligence failures were massive. If so, “destroying Hamas” is not a legitimate (necessary) goal.
My purpose was to clarify the issues, to raise questions rather than to answer them. A reader pointed me to Human Rights Watch, which does take a stand, a blunt and forceful one, accusing both Hamas and Israel of war crimes.
All this new information led me to look more deeply at the origins of our principles of just war. Unsurprisingly, those origins are religious; most religions involve serious moral reflection. In the West, for instance, Augustine, and then the Islamic Enlightenment, precede Aquinas’s classical formulation. Palestinian terrorism has led some to conclude that Islam is alien, that it shares nothing with Judaism and Christianity. The opposite is the case. (Unfortunately, again as a reader pointed out, not everything the three religions share is admirable. Sacred texts of each sometimes espouse violence; Christian and Judaic scriptures endorse genocide.)
Whatever their cradle in religion, principles of just war are neither divine revelation nor set in stone. They develop over time. There is growing discussion today about justice after the war is ended. There are practical questions, of course: What will preserve peace? But a different question is moral: What is fair, what is respectful of basic human dignity? Even during battle, the future must be considered. The Romans, it was once said, defeated Carthage and then salted their soil. That’s not true, but the myth embodies a desire for vengeance rather than for justice. In Gaza, what’s in question includes the destruction of infrastructure and of homes (domicide, as one reader calls it).
Wars shatter not just bodies, but souls.
It’s not just the bodies and buildings of our enemies that matter. It’s everyone’s soul. No matter how just one’s cause, war breeds ruthlessness, creates the risk of becoming what we are fighting against. (For this reason, one reader pointed out, calling any war justified is perilous.) I have decried the savagery of Hamas’s attack: It included not just killing, but also rape and vaginal mutilation. There is another face of evil: not sadism, but indifference. Last month Israel heavily bombed a residential neighborhood in Rafah. This NPR report describes a Palestinian searching through the rubble of his home, finding his father’s finger and half of his mother’s face, identifying a niece by her earring. They and 70 others died to provide a distraction while Israeli soldiers rescued two hostages.
Those involved, like warriors anywhere, may later regret what they have done. Here too the just war tradition is growing, creating the concept of moral injury. A philosopher colleague recommends Afterwar, written while the US was engaged in Afghanistan, and mental illness and suicide among veterans were increasing. Another referred me to the Moral Injury Institute. Someone else noted that Steven Spielberg’s Munich captures the moral toll of vengeance.
The darkness continues. I will end by sharing the hope of friend and colleague Ann Mongoven: Perhaps the agony we witness today will mark a turning point. Perhaps we will look back on 2024 as the year peace began, from the river to the sea.
I’ll be back in a few weeks, wondering about a new question: Does it make sense to pursue happiness?
Some Arab countries have accepted many refugees; some are afraid that Palestinian refugees bring with them desperation that breeds violence and rebellion; some are indifferent. Should we expect Arab nations to do more than the West to solve this problem - a problem they did not create? I am both sad and hopeful. I see no good outcome for Israel but i also hear more people asking questions and trying to understand.