Before I close this chapter, I want to mention yet another intuition we have about understanding persons, the intuition that it is morally important. I believe we are very much right to think so. The next few chapters will take up the task of explicating the value of understanding. For now, I want to make three brief observations about how understanding might be valuable, given the resources afforded by the account of understanding I have sketched in this chapter.
First, since understanding a person is accompanied by the ability to perform tasks involving that person, a greater understanding allows us to respond in ways that are more sensitive to the other’s experience, needs, circumstances, and so on. It does not guarantee right action; but other things equal, a father who has a better understanding of his son’s craving for junk food is better able to communicate with the child about the importance of eating healthy, and help him exercise self-control and establish good eating habits. A greater understanding does not just lead to a more nuanced approach as one carries out her moral decision. It also introduces a greater degree of creativity in one’s consideration of what to do, as she now sees a wider range of possible responses to
another. This idea may give us a clue to how we might move beyond stock responses to wrongdoing, such as condemnation and retribution, to alternatives like reconciliation and forgiveness.
Second, apart from the connection understanding has to action, we might think that there is something valuable in itself in the attention to and uncovering of the reality of other persons. To Iris Murdoch, to achieve a clear vision of other persons is of the utmost importance to our moral development, which she sees as essentially a task of transcending our egocentric take on all matters and coming to see things (including persons) as they really are. I think we could go further with this idea, assuming that there is something special about the reality of persons, of all things. While it is important for us — insofar as we are to be moral agents proper — to see others as they really are (i.e., to understand them), it seems that it is also important for other persons to be seen clearly. If this is true, then understanding of persons can be valuable even independently of morally good actions it may give rise to.
And lastly, although there are many possible routes to understanding, successes in one’s attempts at understanding are usually connected to qualities or dispositions in one that are themselves morally admirable. Blum gives an example of someone who accurately perceives an act as an affront to another’s dignity. He suggests that her per- ception may be “connected to a more pervasive characteristic of her moral sensitivities — namely, that she is more deeply concerned about and tuned in to issues of dignity in people’s lives than are most persons (1991, p.713).” This “more pervasive charac- teristic” is itself morally commendable, and is reflected in one’s understanding of what this other person has suffered. We might also think that a willingness to understand another is another such characteristic. When we are grateful for a good friend’s deep understanding of us, we are grateful for, among other things, her willingness to listen to us and accept that we have a great many imperfections.
Chapter 3
A Case for Understanding Evildoers
3.1 Introduction
I remember a conversation a few years ago when a friend told me he was reading Hitler’s autobiography, Mein Kampf. It made me uneasy, the idea that he was reading a first-hand account of what was inside the head of the paradigm example of evil. As much as I could see the intellectual value of being exposed to a point of view that seemed entirely alien to most of us, I could not shake off the feeling that such exposure was nevertheless morally suspect. And as much as I was convinced of the importance to try to understand people in our lives - friends, family, coworkers, and sometimes even strangers — I was taken aback at the idea of understanding someone like Hitler.
But I’m not alone. When we hear about serial killers, mass murderers, rapists, dictators who willfully kill and torture their own people, terrorists who set off bombs in train stations, and others like them, many of us recoil at the thought of knowing “their side of the story.” The intuition seems to be not just that there’s no point trying to understand these people who commit atrocious acts, or that they are incomprehensible, but we should not try to understand them.
Is there a limit on whom we should or should not understand, morally speaking? More specifically, must we avoid trying to understand evildoers? This is the question I will explore in this chapter. I shall argue that the resistance many have against
understanding evildoers rests on shaky grounds, and in particular, on confusion over what it means to understand a person. Although attempts at understanding evildoers can go wrong and compromise proper judgment of their acts, dismissing them out of hand is no less serious a mistake.