Imagine There's No Evil

Just after 9/11, my then boss brought me a VHS tape (remember those!?!) containing a documentary about the Jihadist movement within the United States. The film had been released before the collapse of the towers, but after the first bombing... one that many of us never registered, which happened back in 1993 in the basement of the WTC.

At the center of the documentary simmered an uncomfortable question that would become central to much of the unrest that followed (and still follows) 9/11's tragedy. How much freedom is too much freedom? The film traced how easily extremist anti-American Jihadist cells proliferated on U.S. soil by capitalizing on the very freedoms they sought to destroy: the right to free speech, the freedom of religion, the right to bear arms... Our civic rights in a darkly ironic twist protected our enemies, allowing them not only to recruit, but to raise money, and to train with weapons.  Pre-9/11 extremists were able to use the guise of charitable organizations and religious entities to cloak their darker purposes of gathering to plot terrorist acts (and tax-free, even). The film, like any good documentary, never answers the question, but only raises it.

The documentary also explored the reasons behind the extremists' focus on the USA as a target for their anger. Many of the recorded Jihadist speeches and interviews showed their leaders condemning the U.S. involvement in global activities that they perceived as threatening Muslims through the support of Jewish and Christian interests, such as the U.S. military and financial support of Israel. The roots run deep, as these extremists consistently pointed to U.S. involvement and presence in middle eastern locations like Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Jordan, Syria... the list goes on and on. Again, the documentary did not excuse radical terrorism, but sought to reveal its roots.

Most chilling and profoundly affecting to me was an interview with one such extremist who had been incarcerated after his involvement with that original WTC attack. He was not, as we might like to believe, a crazed and stupid fanatic. Instead, he came across (other than his alarming message) as measured, reasonable, and even intelligent. The interviewer criticized the man about his use of violence against innocents. With tried patience, this convicted terrorist answered the interviewer's questions, listing off the wrongs Muslim people had suffered, in his perception, at the hands of the U.S. government. The interviewer seemed unimpressed. Finally, the terrorist sighed and said something I'll never forget. (Remember, this is well before 9/11.) He asked the interviewer suddenly, "If I were to, I don't know, destroy the biggest buildings in your city, kill thousands of your citizens. What would you do? What would you want to do?" The interviewer leaned forward, "I'd be angry. Furious. I'd want to kill you and everyone responsible."  The man smiled at him, "You see? We are not so different after all."

So much of the coverage of 9/11 blithely describes the hijackers as "evil." To me, that's a terribly (and dangerously) simplistic way to describe a problem that is far far more complex than black-and-white, good-and-evil. To describe the people who did this as evil allows us to simply dismiss their actions as being a natural condition, one against which nothing can be done but to levy revenge against it. And of course, this expands the vicious circle. We call them evil and seek to destroy them, then they call us evil and seek to destroy us... and it goes on and on and on as it already has for all these many many years.

To instead realize that "They" believe their own perceptions with the same righteous indignation we believe our own asks us to attempt to understand the complexities of the world around us and even to question ourselves. You see, to dismiss these acts as evil lets us off the hook. We can't do anything about them: they're evil. There's no hope: they're evil. If we really want to heal from this, really want to move on, then we must expunge the term from our vocabulary. Instead, we must choose a more dignified position... courage, introspection, decency.