Ron Rosenbaum writes of Arendt: "[S]he internalized the purported universalism of Germanic high culture with its disdain for parochialism. A parochialism she identified with, in her own case, her Jewishness, something she felt ashamed of on intellectual grounds, so primitive, this tribal allegiance in the presence of intellects who supposedly transcended tribalism (or at least all tribes except the Teutonic)." It seems that at least two separate criticisms of "German high culture" are being conflated here. One is a criticism of its hypocrisy, viz., purporting to aspire to universalism while, at the same time, exalting "Teutonic" culture. The second seems a criticism of the aspiration to universalism as such, even divorced from the particular hypocrisy such universalism inevitably entailed in the case of Nazi Germany. And while the first criticism may be a valid one, the second I find ... well ... parochial. Given the chance, shouldn't we all aspire to a kind of universal culture, one that aims to transcend narrow national, racial, ethnic and religious boundaries and values what is true, beautiful or noble because it is true, beautiful or noble, rather than valuing what is mine simply because it is mine? Or, as George Bernard Shaw put it, "Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all others because you were born in it." Whether we're talking about German patriotism for Germany or Jewish patriotism for Israel, it's similarly and equally small-minded (to be clear, I'm not trying to suggest, in any stupid, literal way, that Zionism = Nazism or anything of that sort). But Rosenbaum smugly derides the impulse toward universality, and instead, writes this: "One can still hear this Arendtian shame about ethnicity these days. So parochial! One can hear the echo of Arendt's fear of being judged as 'merely Jewish' in some, not all, of those Jews so eager to dissociate themselves from the parochial concerns of other Jews for Israel. The desire for universalist approval makes them so disdainful of any 'ethnic' fellow feeling. After all, to such unfettered spirits, it's so banal." Yes, it is difficult to be an "unfettered spirit," especially in a world that seems all-too-eager to impose its many fetters upon us, but the aspiration to that lofty state should be praised rather than ridiculed. After all, to attempt, whether futilely or not, to rise above the narrow affiliations and biases of one's own class, race, country, religion, etc., is a noble endeavor, and certainly better than to be, like Rosenbaum, apparently contended with the supposed inevitability of one's personal prejudices. In lieu of any such universalism, Rosenbaum gives us the decidedly tribal vignette of himself and Berel Lang having an apparently serious discussion of whether Hitler is the ultimate evil or whether further degrees of evil are imaginable and concluding that, perhaps, silence about Hitler is a still greater level of evil than Hitler himself. Leaving aside the numerous problems inherent in trying to define "evil" and its degrees, I would have imagined that the prospect of two Jews debating what's "wuhse than Hitluh" is the stuff of antisemitic caricature, not something educated people, much less philosophers, actually do, and, what is more, find worthy of reproducing in print. One reads of such oblivious exercises in navel-gazing and sighs sadly, recalling that the transcendence of tribe is, indeed, difficult.

Thank you for this post, one of the most elequent, well written and hopefull I have read here.

Traditional Tradesman is, indeed, eloquent and sophisticated in his (her?) response to Ron Rosenbaum. As a Holocaust Studies scholar, however, I would like to respectfully critique the dismissal of the legitimacy of the serious discussion of what kind of evil might surpass Hitlerism. First, though, I would like to take exception to the mocking "... what's 'wuhse than Hitluh ..." On reflection, I suspect that Traditional Tradesman (hereafter just Tradesman) may agree that such an attempt to phonetically reproduce stereotypical Jewish speech patterns is troubling and doesn't belong in serious discourse.

Second, I suggest that inquiry into the future of evil, that is, to what depths might the combination of human hatred of other humans and the technology to effect genocide even more efficiently than the Nazis is one of the most serious moral questions we can ask and theorize about. How else might we be prepared to detect it, to clearly see a path along which a nation-state or a non-state aggressor may evolve into a monstrosity that dwarfs even the National Socialists' perversities? Further, Tradesman invokes an unfortunate ad hominem to label those who may be sensitive to the value of this inquiry as creating an "antisemitic caricature" that "educated people, much less philosophers, ..." would engage in. Trying to think about the path that the evil humans can and may inflict on other humans is hardly an "oblivious [exercise] in navel-gazing." Given the increasing probability that both states and non-state entities may come to possess biological and chemical weapons, it may well be the most significant question that serious people can ask. Thank you, Tradesman, for your thoughtful comments and for this opportunity to respond. I welcome your critique of my thinking.

Hi, Mr. Greenberg: Thanks for your comments. I note that they are focused largely on what I view as subsidiary points, while what I see as my principal point was about universalism and what I viewed as Ron Rosenbaum's unjustified and inadequately thought-out mockery of it. With that said, I'll turn to what you wrote. You wrote: "First, though, I would like to take exception to the mocking "... what's 'wuhse than Hitluh ..." On reflection, I suspect that Traditional Tradesman (hereafter just Tradesman) may agree that such an attempt to phonetically reproduce stereotypical Jewish speech patterns is troubling and doesn't belong in serious discourse." I think you might've missed my point here. I'd written that "Leaving aside the numerous problems inherent in trying to define 'evil' and its degrees, I would have imagined that the prospect of two Jews debating what's 'wuhse than Hitluh' is the stuff of antisemitic caricature...." In other words, the image of two Jews debating what's 'wuhse than Hitluh' was the antisemitic caricature that I imagined someone could conjure upon reading Mr. Rosenbaum's description of what he was doing. Our society can't seriously have gotten to the point where we are so sensitive that the mere rendering of ethnic-sounding dialogue, even if presented in a way that is explicitly said to be from the perspective of, in this case, an anti-Semite, would, in itself, be offensive. If I'm suggesting that it's an antisemitic caricature, I need to describe why, right? That's what I was trying to do, albeit in a compressed, lighthearted fashion, certainly not meant to be taken seriously but more as a way of getting people to see the kind of insular bubble in which they're living. You then write: "Second, I suggest that inquiry into the future of evil, that is, to what depths might the combination of human hatred of other humans and the technology to effect genocide even more efficiently than the Nazis is one of the most serious moral questions we can ask and theorize about. How else might we be prepared to detect it, to clearly see a path along which a nation-state or a non-state aggressor may evolve into a monstrosity that dwarfs even the National Socialists' perversities?" I would want to make a distinction between two kinds of inquiries. The first would be a practical type of inquiry into the intents and capacities of various dangerous people out there, e.g., trying to figure out whether Iran or North Korea has nuclear weapons and what they might be planning to do with them, etc. I wouldn't hesitate to agree that this type of intelligence-gathering is useful to detect and prevent all kinds of monstrosities we might want to prevent, as you say. The second kind of inquiry would be a moral inquiry into degrees of evil, e.g., what constitutes a greater degree of evil, Hitler or silence about Hitler. This is the kind of inquiry that Mr. Rosenbaum and his friend Mr. Lang appear to have been engaged in, and it's the kind of inquiry against which that portion of my critique was directed. First, I doubt that such a discussion between two philosophers prevents a single "evil" act from happening in the world. And second, as I said, I'm surprised that two philosophers would be seriously discussing something like this. Contrary to what you write, this isn't an ad hominem attack; it's really a point about philosophical error, as I'll explain. While the idea that discussing what constitutes evil or "degrees of evil," whatever that might mean, is one that some people may still find interesting or compelling, those immersed in philosophical literature to any reasonable extent should be expected to understand how ludicrous such a discussion is. What is "evil"? Did Hitler imagine of himself, "Boy, I'm going to do something pretty evil here and kill all those nice Jews, so that history might remember me as a barbaric, genocidal monster"? Or, rather, did Hitler imagine something closer to, "I'm going to do something great and noble for the sake of the human race and eliminate a scourge on humanity so that those who deserve to prosper might prosper"? We can't know for sure, but his own writings as well as common sense suggest that something closer to the latter was the case. And there were probably many Germans who agreed with him. And, sad though it might be, there are still probably millions of people in the world today who share all or some of his views. Why is this relevant? Because, as Plato argued in the Meno, everyone, however monstrous, likely believes, more or less, that they're doing good, and all vice may just be a kind of ignorance about what is truly good. Of course, we've come a long way since Plato and don't believe that there is a "truly" good; there is no Platonic form of the Good. Theists may still believe in absolutes of that sort, but even they have to concede that their particular theistic visions are not universally shared and, as such, there is widespread disagreement about what constitutes good or evil. Indeed, as we well know, many strains of militant Islamic theism offer us notions of good and evil that many of us would heartily disagree with. For these reasons, having a serious discussion about whether Hitler or silence about Hitler is a greater evil is like having a discussion about how many angels may fit on the head of a pin. There's no point. Even if we achieve agreement, all that means is that we achieved agreement; it doesn't mean we're "right" or "wrong" in any REAL sense, since there are, no doubt, millions of people who will disagree with us. There is, in other words, no universal standard by which truth in such a discussion might be judged. I would distinguish this kind of fruitless "moral" inquiry from one where two people are trying to figure out what constitutes a greater harm for human beings with respect to some concrete goal. For instance, we might ask, "Which would lead to the greatest number of lives lost, another figure like Hitler or another figure like Stalin?" Amorphous as such an inquiry is (we'd obviously have to define what it means to be like Hitler or like Stalin and under what circumstances each might emerge), at least we have some idea of what it is we'd be talking about, and there's empirical evidence that might be brought to bear upon the subject. So I hope that clears up what I was trying to get a bit.