61 pages • 2 hours read
Ronald H. BalsonA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In response to Catherine’s question about maintaining faith in God in the wake of the Holocaust, Ben says, “That’s a question I’ve pondered all my life, as has every person affected by incomprehensible tragedy” (138). The question speaks to broader issues surrounding monotheistic religions over why a God who is believed to be omniscient, omnipresent, and omnibenevolent would allow so much injustice and suffering in the world. Although Ben is conscious of the theological uncertainties and contradictions laid bare by the Holocaust, he is steadfast in his answer to this question: “He was there, Catherine, weeping” (138).
To justify this conclusion, Ben looks to the idea of free will put forth in Deuteronomy:
“When Moses called upon the heads of all the tribes, the elders and the officers, and all the people to stand and receive God’s laws, they learned that God had set before them life and good or death and evil. They were told they had the choice. They were told to choose good and not evil, but they were given the choice” (138).
That raises the question of why God did not intervene to stop these evil men who, in Ben’s words, “had become infused of the devil” (139). But to intervene would be to deprive man of free will; and without free will, acts of goodness lose their meaning.
Ben’s view is not shared by all Holocaust scholars. The most rigid and extreme commentators, including the ultra-nationalist Israeli politician Meir Kahane, suggest that the Holocaust was retribution for European Jews’ abandonment of Orthodox Jewish values. (Kahane, Meir. “In Defense of G-d: Confronting the Holocaust.” The Jewish Press Nov. 1985.) Others hone in on a word Ben often uses to describe the Holocaust: “incomprehensible.” Because the tragedy’s scale defies reason, no rational explanation can be provided, they argue. As Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson wrote, “For even Satan himself could not configure a calculus of transgressions for that generation that could justify—Heaven forbid!—a punishment so severe.” (Schneerson, Menachem Mendel. Sefer HaSihot, Vol 1. Kehot. 1992.)
This view contradicts slightly with Ben’s argument that the men responsible for the Holocaust were doing the devil’s work. The evil practiced by men during the Holocaust, Schneerson argues, outweighs even that of Satan.
Finally, there is Elliot’s perspective on the matter. Although the reader later learns that Elliot is not a Jew and has never been one, at the beginning of the novel he is presented as a Holocaust survivor who has lost his faith: “There were no religious symbols in his home. He once commented that he abandoned God after God abandoned him in the concentration camps” (10). While Elliot’s true reason for not practicing Judaism is later revealed, his argument—facetious though it may be—reflects the feelings of many Jews in the wake of the Holocaust. According to Richard Rubenstein, to reject God is a perfectly reasonable and honest intellectual response to the Holocaust. Whether or not God still exists, he argues, is immaterial because his presence is no longer felt in the acts and lives of man. He writes, “When I say we live in the time of the death of God, I mean that the thread uniting God and man, heaven and earth, has been broken.” (Rubenstein, Richard. After Auschwitz. Bobbs-Merrill. 1966.)
The term “banality of evil” comes from political theorist Hannah Arendt’s 1963 book, Eichmann in Jerusalem, a report on Adolf Eichmann’s trial in Israel. Although the phrase is not stated explicitly in Once We Were Brothers, the fundamental idea of evil’s banality is strongly expressed through the character of Otto Piatek. Contrary to the beliefs of many, Arendt argues that Eichmann and most Nazis were neither psychopathic nor pathologically antisocial, despite what their crimes suggest. To justify this claim, Arendt cites the work of six psychologists who examined Eichmann and found no evidence of mental illness, not even personality disorder. Furthermore, she writes that Eichmann showed “no case of insane hatred toward Jews, of fanatical anti-Semitism of any kind. He personally never had anything whatever against Jews.” (Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Viking Press. 1963.)
To explain why a man of Eichmann’s ordinary psychological profile could be responsible for organizing the deaths of millions of Jews, Arendt argues that it is a consequence of groupthink, a desire for belonging, and a mindless sense of civic duty to the laws of the land, no matter how twisted those laws became. This strongly echoes Otto’s demeanor and attitude toward his Nazi duties. While Otto may suffer from narcissistic personality disorder, he is not a psychopath or an anti-Semite, at least not at the beginning of the narrative. This is shown most clearly when he saves Beka from anti-Semitic street gangs. As Otto falls deeper and deeper under the Nazis’ spell, he never interrogates or even considers Nazism from an ideological perspective. Rather, he enjoys the sense of belonging and the privileges that come with being in the Nazi in-crowd, such as the late-night carousing and the beautiful women who throw themselves at him. Finally, he justifies any action, no matter how atrocious, on an unthinking devotion to Reich law. When Ben asks for his family’s money, Otto says, “Can’t do it, Ben. It’s against the law for you to have it. If they change the law, then I’ll give it to you” (204).
Arendt suggests that men like Eichmann—and by extension, Otto—were the norm in the Nazi regime. “The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that the many were neither perverted or sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal.” (Arendt, Hannah. Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. Viking Press. 1963.) Otto’s relative normalcy thus serves as a warning to people who believe nothing like the Holocaust could ever happen in their country.
If there’s one theme connecting the 2004 timeline and the Holocaust-era timeline, it’s the idea of careerism versus justice. As noted above, Otto’s embrace of furthering his Nazi career blinds him to the atrocities in which he is complicit, as well as those he commits himself. When defending his actions, Otto cites his not only own survival and self-preservation but also his career. When Beka is kidnapped, he tells Ben, “I’ve worked too hard to earn my rank and position. When they find out I loaned you a uniform, my career’ll be finished. And that’s the least of what might happen to me” (175). That Otto is so preoccupied with his career when his surrogate sister’s life is in danger is incredibly telling of his character.
Meanwhile, in the 2004 timeline Catherine too questions the extent to which she’s willing to jeopardize her career in the pursuit of justice. At the beginning of the novel, she has little appetite for Ben’s case, suggesting he seek out a group of idealistic youngsters at a law clinic. She tells Liam, “Kids have no fear. I have a career” (32). But as the emotional truth of Ben’s harrowing story continues to resonate with her, Catherine’s doubts fade. Her commitment to Ben’s quest for justice is tested by her boss Jenkins and Elliot’s lead attorney Jeffers, both of whom threaten to ruin Catherine’s career if she does not drop the case. When Jenkins wonders what she’s fighting for, Catherine replies, “Mr. Jenkins, I’m ashamed of you. For what? For justice, that’s what! I’m not abandoning the case. I’ll work the file out of my house if I have to. Fire me, if you want to. For now, I’m on leave” (200). While there are demonstrably fewer risks to taking a moral stand in 21st-century America than in Nazi-occupied Europe, a clear distinction is made between Catherine’s willingness to abandon her career in the name of justice and Otto’s refusal to do the same.
“Never Again” is a mantra that came into use after the Holocaust. (It’s also since been used in conjunction with more recent large-scale tragedies like the September 11 attacks.) Aside from its obvious connotations, the phrase speaks strongly to Ben’s motivations. While Ben could be forgiven for seeking vengeance against Elliot, the tone of his quest is less one of retribution and more about prevention. Ben neatly outlines his reasoning to Catherine:
“There are many reasons to study and teach about the Holocaust, and maybe the most important reason is to prevent reoccurrences. We are sentries, Catherine. We stand on the wall, on guard against any hint that the minions of genocide are reassembling. As the 1945 Nuremberg trials would establish, crimes against humanity must never again go unpunished. That is why Otto must be exposed and publicly prosecuted. We must never allow the world to forget” (179).
That Ben’s motivations are more pure than simple revenge is supported by the fact that when he first confronts Elliot in Chapter 3, he does so with an unloaded antique Nazi pistol that is more a symbol than an effective means for inflicting bodily harm.
It is an open question, however, whether Ben believes that future atrocities can really be prevented. Although there hasn’t been a genocide on the scale of the Holocaust in the past 70 years, Ben recognizes that genocide is a part of the fabric of human existence. When Catherine advises him to plead insanity, Ben replies:
“Insanity? Should I plead insanity? You have no idea what insanity is, young lady. I’ve known insanity and it can happen again; the next rip in the fabric of humanity. And if it does, the minions of evil will crawl through it—incomprehensible evil—the next Auschwitz or Cambodia or Bosnia or Darfur. This generation’s Himmler, or Pol Pot or Milosevic” (19).
Despite the reoccurrence of acts of genocide, however, Ben’s preventative approach neatly encapsulates what makes justice different than vengeance.