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Law in Contemporary Society
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John Brown, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and a Theory of Social Action-- By KentToland - 10 Mar 2017 Last week, a classmate suggested it was ridiculous to condemn John Brown’s acts because “we all wish there would have been a John Brown in Nazi Germany.” There was not a John Brown, but Dietrich Bonhoeffer came close. Like Brown, Bonhoeffer’s Christian convictions led him to take measures some would call extreme to oppose injustice. Both men were willing to kill in order to defend slaves and Jews, respectively, which raises the question: is it moral for an individual to kill in response to a diabolical evil such as slavery or Nazism? To unpack this question, we must consider the circumstances in which Brown and Bonhoeffer found themselves to determine what makes this comparison worthwhile. On the surface, Bonhoeffer’s actions seem more justifiable than Brown’s. Germany was embroiled in a world war started by a megalomaniac who silenced all dissent, and the only alternative course of action was to wait for outside help and see if the Allies would finish off the Axis forces. Brown, however, was not living in a country at war (yet), and one could argue that other means of resistance that might have freed slaves more effectively (perhaps the Underground Railroad) were available. But important differences change the nature of this question. While slavery and Nazism share a similar degree of evil in their disregard for the value of human lives, one of their primary differences is time scale. From a longer historical perspective, the twelve years of Nazi rule in Germany may be viewed as a blip on the radar, a particularly scary time that is now in the past. Perhaps too many of us do. Two hundred and forty-six years of slavery in North America, on the other hand cannot be dismissed in this same way, not only because of duration, but because slavery existed in this land long before national independence. So while Bonhoeffer and Brown were both combating atrocities, these were atrocities of fundamentally different natures. Bonhoeffer was fighting against a recent upheaval to the established order in Germany, whereas Brown was calling into question an institution upon which the United States had been and continued to be built. Brown, then, was one of the few who was willing to uproot fundamental tenets of American society in order to do what he perceived as God’s will. With this reframing of the question in view, Brown’s actions become more plausible to justify. It is difficult to imagine anything other than civil war bringing an end to an institution so interwoven with American life, and Brown’s killings may have been indispensable to the outbreak of the Civil War. At the same time, the gains won through nonviolence and civil disobedience movements led by Gandhi and MLK suggest that killing is not necessary and thus make it morally dubious, even in extreme circumstances. Even with this in mind, though, I hesitate to condemn John Brown or Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in part because this could imply that inaction is morally preferential. It is of course interesting to focus on famous persons in history such as these two men, but what we are prone to overlooking is the choices of the many people who shared the convictions of Brown and Bonhoeffer and yet failed to act. As Bonhoeffer himself said, “Not to act is to act.” Brown and Bonhoeffer were motivated in large part because they believed as Christians that all men and women are made in God’s image. For other Christians to share their faith and refuse to reject slavery or concentration camps is dissociation of the highest order. Moreover, this is similar to the “self-deception and comfortable vanity” of which MLK spoke. To develop a theory of social action, we will do well to focus on how we can effectively combat inaction. Thus, any discussion of the morality of killing must focus not only on the immediate circumstances, but also the nature of the alternative courses of actions available. We are predisposed to view inaction not as a choice but as a default, likely because of how strongly our law and our culture value autonomy. Yet just as John Brown’s actions, for instance, led to the deaths of others, so too did the inaction of those who did not take a stand during his time, albeit in a more indirect way. If one cares about remoteness or directness of harm, then Brown’s actions could be condemned while the inaction of others could be condemned. Alternatively, if it is innocent lives with which we are concerned, the outcome is not as clear-cut. However, as long as we so vigorously defend the value of an individual’s choice not to act (e.g. no affirmative duty to rescue or assist an individual who is in peril, even when it would be extraordinarily easy to do so), we reinforce the message that individual autonomy is to be cherished above all else. This is not completely wrong, but we should not be surprised when the disastrous consequences of inaction manifest themselves. While John Brown and Dietrich Bonhoeffer attest to the extraordinary power of an individual to alter the course of history, our focus on individuals may prevent us from understanding and appropriately valuing the role of nameless individuals in shaping society for better or worse. The origins of slavery and Nazism required not just malevolent actors, but also the acquiescence of countless individuals in various forms to new forms of discrimination and injustice. Brown and Bonhoeffer acted in a way that accorded with their fundamental beliefs about the dignity of all people and the call to defend the oppressed. While we can debate the validity of their views and tactics, they should be commended for choosing to act. In constructing a theory of social action, we should consider not only how to persuade others of a viewpoint, but also how to inspire them and ourselves to act on these beliefs.
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