Abbottabad from the Sarban Hills (Wikimedia Commons)
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.
—T.S. Eliot
There has been much debate and discussion over the nature of President Obama's order that led to the killing of Osama bin Laden at Abbottabad. Based on different reporting, different people claim to know for a fact that it was a kill order, a kill-or-capture, or a capture-or-kill. And but for those involved in the raid, the truth probably won't be known for many years. It is the seeking that is most interesting. As if knowing the nature of the order will establish some level of moral clarity. And as is too often the case, many seem to want such clarity mostly for personality-based reasons— to understand or cast judgment upon the president and his staff, or even the people with whom they are arguing. But lost amidst many of these personality arguments are the larger moral issues themselves. What does it say if the president did order a kill rather than a capture-or-kill? Many would have supported such an order in the first place, so for them the truth shouldn't much matter beyond establishing historical accuracy. But many would not have supported such an order. And that is where the real source of discussion ought to begin.
Whatever happened at Abbottabad, we know that President Obama has ordered the assassination of an American citizen in Yemen; we know that he has ordered or allowed drone strikes in Pakistan, which everyone knows by their very nature will kill innocent civilians; and we also know that he has ordered two-and-a-half escalations of the war in Afghanistan, which also by its very nature is killing innocent civilians. If you're looking for moral clarity on whether or not this president would order actions that he knows will kill innocents, the answer is clear: as have all presidents, this president would and has and certainly will again. The justifications for such orders can be debated, but there is no question that this president would make such orders. So the question of whether President Obama ordered bin Laden killed or whether he ordered him to be captured-or-killed is essentially moot, if you're looking for pure moral clarity on the president himself. The presidency does not lend itself to moral purity.
The real question is not about the nature of the president's order, or the nature of the man himself. The real question is about us, as a culture and as individuals. Although little of it has taken place, this has been a moment in history calling for self-reflection on our values and ideals, and on how those values and ideals can become obscured, muddled, or lost in the aftermath of severe emotional and psychological trauma. Some celebrated and cheered the raid at Abbottabad. Some are gratified but conflicted. Some are deeply troubled or outraged by some of its aspects. Some usually known for their moral clarity have by their reactions to this action underscored its moral confusions. All of these reactions are worth considering and understanding. It's also worth considering whether any reaction to such a complex dynamic can be morally absolute. It's also worth considering whether moral absolutism can itself be morally absolute. Bin Laden himself espoused moral absolutism. Bin Laden's espoused moral absolutism saw him conspire to kill thousands of people.
Reactions to the raid at Abbottabad are as personal as were reactions to the horrors of the September 11 terrorist attacks themselves. These are moments in history that strip us to raw exposed nerves. Is it even possible to claim to know what is a right or wrong reaction to emotional trauma? I can speak for myself. How can anyone presume to speak for all of humanity? I was not as personally touched by that day's horrors as were many members of this community, but even among those who were in or near the impact sites, or who had friends or loved ones who were in or near the impact sites, reactions have been complicated and diverse. None are wrong. Emotions are not wrong. They reveal our humanity. They reveal us. My political and human values were profoundly effected by my youthful reading of Gandhi and Martin Luther King, and I believe with all my being that their greatness lay not only in their specific causes, but even more in how they approached those causes. But to use the most extreme case, would non-violent resistance have worked against the Nazis? I think we all know the answer. This gets to the crux of the quandary. How can we remain and attempt to act on the purest of ideals and intentions when confronted by those completely lacking humanity and conscience? This is not about President Obama or Osama bin Laden. This is about us.
I am an opponent of capital punishment. I consider it to be barbaric. As applied in this country, it also is racist and classist. There are sound and profound reasons for its having been abolished in almost all of the industrialized world. But to oppose capital punishment, on principle, should mean there are no exceptions. Not for the Night Stalker. Not for the brutal killer of Polly Klaas. The victims and survivors of violent crime have every psychological and emotional justification for wanting the perpetrators torn limb from limb, but that is exactly why society is supposed to take as objective and dispassionate a view as is possible rather than appealing to emotions. The ideal would be that such crimes never take place. The next ideal would be that society does all it can to comfort and care for the victims and survivors while taking as objective and dispassionate an approach to justice as is possible. Capital punishment very rarely provides any semblance of the absurd concept of "closure" to the victims and survivors. Vengeance doesn't heal. An-eye-for-an-eye was a concept concocted around the time of the Bronze Age.
I am Jewish. The entire European branch of my grandfather's family was murdered by the Nazis. As far as we know, not one member survived. I have been fortunate to be able to travel extensively in Europe, and among the places I've visited have been cemeteries and battlefields and memorials from wars dating back thousands of years. I've also climbed the stairs into the Anne Frank House, in Amsterdam, finding it hard to breathe, knowing that Frank and her fellow refugees climbed those exact same stairs when they entered their years of hiding. Knowing that they climbed down those exact same stairs at gunpoint, on their way to their doom. I have been to Terezin, outside Prague, where the Nazis played their own twisted take on Potemkin, creating the illusion of a comfortable refugee camp for Red Cross approval, before shipping the residents off to death camps. Outside of Krakow, I have been to Auschwitz and Birkenau. I have seen the suitcases. I have seen the piles of toys. Of hair. I have stood in the barracks. I have stood outside the still closed building where unthinkable medical experiments were conducted. I have seen what's left of the gas chambers and ovens. I am Jewish, but if I had been alive then, and Adolph Hitler has been captured at the end of the war, I would like to believe I would not have wanted him executed. I oppose capital punishment. In all cases. No exceptions.
Osama bin Laden was not captured alive. We know some of the details about that night at Abbottabad, and it seems possible that he could have been captured alive. It seems possible that this was an assassination order. We don't know that for a fact, but this is not about that, anyway. This is personal. To me as to all who remember September 11, 2001. It is collective, but it also could not be more personal. To any of us. I would have preferred that bin Laden was captured and brought to trial, and if as I presume, after a fair and transparent process he had been found guilty, I would have preferred that he then would have been locked away for the rest of his natural life. But while I don't know that this was not an assassination order, I find I am not outraged at the possibility that it was. I would prefer that it wasn't, but I am not outraged at the possibility that it wasn't. I am greatly gratified by the capture of the computer data and other files, which likely will prove the most important aspect of the entire raid, but about the death of bin Laden I am not outraged. A part of me feels that I should be. A part of me is disgusted that I am not. Certainly, even the part of me that is not is not cheering or gloating about the man's death. I cannot cheer or gloat about any person's death. The entire long decade of trauma that began with the bin Laden conspiracy, and with the Bush administration's astonishing ineptitude in failing to stop it, leaves me exhausted and heartbroken. So much violent death. So much suffering. So much cruelty. And so much of it the fault of my own government, a government that even under Democratic administrations I often don't recognize. History itself often leaves me exhausted and heartbroken. So much violent death. So much suffering. So much cruelty.
This moment in history should not be about casting judgment on other people's reactions to this moment in history. This moment in history should not be about attempting to prove what cannot be proved. This moment in history should be about soul-searching. It should be about looking without flinching at human history and human nature. It should be about what happened to each of us on that late Summer morning nearly ten years ago. It should be about what happened to this country and this world. It should be about what we want to happen to this country and this world. It should be about what kind of people we want to be. This is not a moment of knowing. It is a moment of asking.
You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again.
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.
—Eliot