Contempt or engagement?

If I refuse, for moral reasons, to engage with someone, I can be thought to contemn him. The contempt is grounded in a reason, namely, that I don’t want to honor or lend my credibility or my authority by associating with him. And contempt can also be self-protective: I don’t want to become tainted by what I judge to be that person’s moral stench.

The practice of lending one’s credibility through association is obscure, yet nevertheless common. We take time out (of our busy schedules) to meet with someone, and that is often taken to be a form of respect. Photo opportunities are opportunities to bolster one’s credibility by piggy-backing on another’s authority. Importantly, to engage with an argument is, under normal circumstances, to implicitly assert the worthiness of the argument being engaged.

In the past few years, a certain controversy has arisen over a professor’s refusal to debate, in public or otherwise, a historian whom she, and many others, considers a holocaust denier. This takes us right into the distinction just drawn between contempt and engagement, and highlights the political dimension of that distinction.

The historian holds no academic position, holds no doctorate degree, and yet has written scores of texts on serious historical subjects, some of which have been recognized by academicians. In particular, he boasts something of a reputation as a historian steeped in extensive historical knowledge grounded in thorough archival research. Recently (but perhaps going further back), he seems to be defending a holocaust denier’s position, and he claims to have done the archival research which proves that Hitler could not have masterminded anything like what we commonly consider the Holocaust. This position is his stand, the thesis on which he stakes his reputation. He is eager to defend his position against the legion who disagree with him.

On the other hand, we have a professor who specializes in Holocaust denial in America. In particular, she is a specialist on the rhetoric and political impact of Holocaust denial in America. She refuses, on principle she claims, to debate with her opponent because she thinks to engage with him would be to give a forum for his incredible views. So, she refuses to grant interviews to news shows who are eager to hear her and her opponent battle it out. She seems to be asserting that a historical thesis which denies the Holocaust is a thesis not worthy of consideration. She is unwilling to lend credibility to such a thesis by seriously engaging with it. She finds the thesis, to use our terms, contemptible.

An interesting conflict arises. A basic tenet of a liberal society is the value of the discussion of ideas and engagement of conflicting views. J.S. Mill even thought that an open society should endorse and encourage the consideration of views believed to be false. For such consideration could somehow lead to the discovery of an important truth. Even if we are skeptical about the scope of this claim, it does appear to be true of the society of academics. It could almost be considered a part of an academic’s job description to engage with views she believes to be false (i.e., those which conflict with her own). On the face of it then, there is no place for contempt in academia: a thesis thought false must be engaged with and shown to be false; while dismissive treatment does occur, it is not something that is accepted as a practice. On the other hand, aren’t there views so absurd and patently unsustainable that merely to ponder them is to feel soiled? How does one, say, ask a mother to ponder the value of murdering her only son? She won’t do it, perhaps cannot do it—and this would seem to be a good making feature of her character. This seems especially pertinent if the advancement of the putatively absurd views is motivated, not by the search for truth, but by ideological considerations. If so, then something like a moral consideration obstructs dialogue and engagement.

How do we handle this conflict? Shall we accept that certain viewpoints are taboo and do not warrant serious discussion? That is a dangerous position to take; and if it should become politicized, a seemingly disastrous one. On the other hand, how are we supposed to engage if our own moral principles demand otherwise? Perhaps this is what Nietzsche pondered when he envisioned a future populated by the ‘daredevils of the spirit’, that is, those who would dare to engage with the morally ‘impossible’. Even if there should be such a specimen of human being, should we find them admirable?