Sympathy and Morality

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True love waits in haunted attics
Mar 21, 2002
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Jonathan Bennett of Syracuse University wrote an outstanding article over the value and use of sympathy in relation to our cultural morals called "The Conscience of Huckleberry Finn". In it he compared three different persons of, according to him, different levels of morality or righteousness.

Huck Finn being the first, who is under the morality that black men are inferior and, during his attempt to help free Jim, is what he struggles with in contrast with his sympathy, of which is begging him to let the man go. And we know the story goes that he does.

Heinrich Himmler was second - believe it or not - and this was so because, though he had horrendous moral implications he held to until the bitter end - that being the mass murder of Jews and claimed 'inferiorities' during WWII -, he was known to have a positive outlook on compassion and sympathy and how wrong it felt to do such acts as he did, even though he suppressed them for what was, in his eyes, a greater mission. Bennett writes, "He is saying that only the weak take the easy way out and just squelch their sympathies, and is praising the stronger and more glorious course of retaining one's sympathies while acting in violation of them." Bennett would go on to say that he "did bear his hideous burden, and even pained a price for it. He suffered a variety of nervous and physical disabilities, including nausea and stomach-convulsions...these were 'the expression of a psychic division which extended over his whole life.'" What is so very interesting about Bennett's critique is that he is absolutely right: it is a sign of a 'better' person if one does indeed feel the weight the burdens that his actions may cause, even as far as to respect them. This is striking that Himmler is second precisely because of who Bennet (quite rightly) labeled as last:

Jonathan Edwards - the great 18th century philosopher, theologian, and minister - appeared as last, precisely because of his views on eternal, literal fire, extrinsically imposed on the condemned, and even, in his words, loathed and detested by God "much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire." He would go on to say that God "abhors [the condemned], and is dreadfully provoked." Not only is this extremely immoral in itself, it is also contrary to God's love in scripture, which states He desires all to be saved (1 Timothy 2:4), and has no pleasure regarding the death of the wicked (Ezekiel 33:11), as well as the fact that Edwards had a faulty, mechanical view of human free will. He was a hard determinist who believed (note this) that for an agent to even produce an act, God must give him the desire to do so. This, of course, is absolutely irrational, for it would mean that not only does God give the anti-Christs and terrorists to human civilization and decency the desires to contradict and oppose Him, but, in the beginning, God even gave Satan the desire to rebel against Him, which would mean that God contradicts Himself, and is nothing more than a puppet-master, sick in ambition, bored in His omnipotence, and evil in His actions. All this combined and the fact that Edwards didn't seem to have a single hint of sympathy for those who were condemned. Hear this:

"When the saints in glory, therefore, shall see the doleful state of the condemned, how will this heighten their sense of the blessedness of their own state...When they shall see how miserable others of their fellow-creatures are...; when they shall see the smoke of their torment,...and hear their dolorous shrieks and cries, and consider that they in the mean time are in the most blissful state, and shall surely be in it to all eternity; how they will rejoice!"

Cleary we see, in perhaps a paradoxical state of recognition of Edwards' religion, how wrong this man was, and how much he desired the torment of his fellow man, who, according to his theology, was just as helpless and depraved as he, though God chose Edwards rather than the condemned, with nothing for either party to accept or reject in the capacity of their own freedom. This man's theology makes me sick, in the highest level of repugnance, though I do get a feeling that he didn't recognize half the things he said. But I may certainly be wrong; though I do hope I am not.

Bennett concludes by saying that we should keep our sympathies as sharpened as we possibly can, for they help determine our own accepted morality, though he did warn that neither extreme - morality or emotion, compassion or sympathy - should be taken at full face value, for in so doing you endanger yourself as Edwards did, or as any seething romantic without a touch of realism in his system; the likes of we can probably name off in accordance with our own fields of society. "...I must try to keep my morality open to revision, exposing it to whatever valid pressures there are -- including pressures from my sympathies...In a conflict between principle and sympathy, principles ought sometimes to win."

In all, this is an excellent article I recommend to everyone, as it brings to light the opinions of great characters in our history - whether fictional or real - and shows the value and urgency of sympathy in relationship to our learned and accepted cultural morals.
 
I'd very much like to read the paper. Do you have a link?

Regarding Huck Finn, the really poignant thing to me is that Huck didn't just contravene the prevailing morality of his social set but actually went so far as to consciously imperil his everlasting soul (as he understood the theology that had been drummed into him) to save Jim. For Huck, there was no trade-off of principles; he resigned himself to damnation because he couldn't or wouldn't override his sense of friendship and compassion for this man. (I find it interesting to compare Huck's decision to some of the posts in our recent "Would you go to Hell to save someone else" thread.)

As for the Himmler/Edwards contrast, as surprising as the pairing seems initially, I agree that Bennett draws an important distinction between them that I want to tease out a bit more. Let's start with Himmler. Whatever one thinks of Nazi goals (I'm certainly no admirer), there is little question that some of those responsible for furthering those ends believed that certain moral principles, as well as common decency and sympathy, had to be sacrificed for a greater good. The point being that however misguided they were, they did believe they were agents of a positive good. Himmler (and, arguably, people like Eichmann) seem to fit that mold. They felt repugnance for their ghastly work but believed that the ends they served justified the means, however monstrous. We know, for instance, that drug and alcohol consumption was rampant among camp guards and some officers of the SS, who sacrificed conscience for an overarching goal that many may have only dimly understood and desperately needed intoxicants to keep them functioning. To paraphrase from some author (Hannah Arendt?), the attitude among such people was not, "What terrible things I have done to these people," but, "What terrible things I had to do and endure in performance of my duty." We see the same thing with some of our own veterans, particularly men who served unwillingly in Vietnam. Sympathy or some principle had to be sacrificed, at great psychological cost to the individual making the choice, to bring about a goal that may only have been imperfectly internalized. The fact that such people experience such anguish in pursuit of these goals is solid evidence that they are not entirely lost, morally speaking. Himmler did terrible, terrible things, but he seems not to have been a sociopath. He was just decent enough -- maybe only by a whisker -- to feel conflicted about his complicity.

Edwards, on the other hand, adopts an attitude that has nothing whatever to do with furthering a goal, promoting a good. His indifference (indeed, his delight) in the imagined suffering of others is built into his vision of the world. He may well have been a sociopath, though I really don't know. In any case, it seems clear to me that he imputes his own callousness, hatred and (who knows?) self-loathing to his god and then effectively throws up his hands and says, "That's just the way it is; tough s**t." His is truly a monstrous sense of life with no redeeming qualities that I can discern. Edwards doesn't feel complicity because in his view there is no complicity, only the sovereign right of a monstrous god who may not be questioned or challenged.

In short, the difference between Himmler and Edwards is that Himmler erred by placing "principle" over sympathy, while Edwards lacked both.
 
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