That's It

I'm quitting graduate school.

No, actually, I'm not. I'm just one of the few not-as-jaded people in my Crimes Against Humanity class.

Our discussion today was on the Killing Fields in Cambodia (which is not exactly the point, but that was the topic). All genocide is bad, yes. Always.

But are all people who are involved in genocide bad?



At first, I was one of the "Yes, people who kill a lot of people, and rarely for a good reason, are bad." But then we watched this movie:

Enemies of the People

And my perspective changed.

This man, Thet Sambath, interviewed people openly involved in the mass slayings along with Pol Pot's right-hand man (co-leader? I'm still not entirely sure, so you know . . .) Nuon Chea, who's currently on trial. Sambath lost his father, mother, and brother to the genocidal (or proto-genocidal, depending on your view) Khmer Rouge regime, and the making of the video was slightly cathartic for him (in all likelihood). So how would you expect him to react to these men telling stories about killing innocent people, or talking to the man who had parts in organizing them?

Not the way he did.

I understand that Southeast Asian culture is very, very polite, so from that regards you can understand partially his interactions with a man like Chea. However, human grief is also a strange thing. People can get angry when confronted with the man who killed family or friends, or upset, or any range of emotions stemming from that loss. And considering that Sambath was a child when he lost his parents and brother, you would almost expect that grief to come out.

It didn't. He was polite, and even friendly with Chea; so much so that the documentary seems almost sympathetic to the man.

This was groundbreaking for me. I saw the grief of men who had committed heinous acts against Cambodian people and now, in their old age, felt guilt so strong that they didn't know what they would be reincarnated as -- an idea that stood out to me. I imagined if I were to commit a heinous crime, what would my response be as a Christian? I would likely assume that, even knowing all I do about my faith, that what I had just done was unforgivable. Hearing a Buddist say that he will "never see sunlight as a human being again" was one of the most powerful expressions of sorrowful guilt I'd ever seen.

I walked away from that movie with two things, both of which were a profound feeling of sadness that I hadn't taken away from any of our other films. Firstly, no matter what they've done, humans are humans. They share our genetic code, they breathe the same air, eat the same food as we do, no matter where they live or what they do. That was something that I'd seen my entire life -- I've never been a discriminatory person -- but I'd never extended it to people who committed genocides and other heinous crimes. Yeah, sure, they might be off in the head, but they're still human. I'm off in the head, for God's sake. Every time I ride the T there's someone I want to punch in the face. Do I think they should face repercussions? Yes, that isn't necessarily what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that I'm not sure they're "evil."

Yes, I won't deny that I consider Hitler and Nazi Germany "evil," or even the Khmer Rouge leadership that massacred at least 1.4 million people. But underneath the "organization" and the legitimately whackadoodle Hitler (though in the beginning he had some good ideas. Definitely went downhill when those ideas stopped, you know, rebuilding Germany and instead started killing millions of people), there were legitimately "normal" people who were ordered to carry out killings, and for one of a number of reasons (see: Alvarez, Genocidal Crimes) did so. But is the SS grunt who killed people because he was ordered to at fault? Only for complacency, maybe. Because the idea of self-preservation is deeply ingrained in the human conscience. Only some people would willingly lay down their life for another, especially if they have a lot to lose by doing so. In that vein, I can't blame people for going along with orders. They aren't the planners. And even if we do hold them at fault, are they evil? No. No more than any other soldier.

This idea, apparently, does not exist among some of the outspoken members of my class.

Last week, before class, I got called into my professor's office. She and her co-professor informed me that I did talk quite a lot in that class (yes), and that they'd appreciate it if I held back. I agreed. I understand that I'm quite argumentative when it comes to classes and I'm not always the most short-winded or eloquent, as this blog likely suggests. However, there are a few others I'm hoping they call that out on, because they talk at least as much as I did. It's two of these people who responded to a question about culpability of the Khmer Rouge footsoldiers that concerned me today.

Both of them said, in essence, that anyone who participates in a genocidal campaign is evil.

Maybe I'm just not as jaded as they are. Maybe I still hold out hope that there's good somewhere in humanity that's worth saving, despite most people I meet being fairly punch-worthy. Maybe I hold out that people are social creatures who can be persuaded, through self-interest or group consensus, to commit bad acts. Or that, equally, others are willing to risk great sacrifice to help others, for no reason except the fact that we're all the same.

I can't see the men who brokenly said that they would never be a human again in their next lives as evil. Pure evil would be men who openly boasted about their acts, and I'm sure they exist. But not these two. They wanted answers as badly as the filmmaker.

Perhaps what we need isn't a class on cultural differences, or tolerance, or other things to be taught in high schools (looking at you, Cecil County, MD). Maybe what we need is a class, at an elementary level, on the ability to empathize with everyone, no matter their ethny, race, place of birth, class, or education. If we taught our children to look at the world through the eyes of another, perhaps the world would be better.

I'm not holding my breath.