Philosophical Topics

Sholom Schwartzbard killed Simon Petlura in an act of revenge. He admitted his crime and a French jury acquitted him in 1927. For Hannah Arendt, Schwartzbard’s actions show that revenge can, in certain circumstances, be in the service of justice. This paper explores Hannah Arendt’s distinction between reconciliation and revenge and argues that Hannah Arendt embraces revenge as one way in which politics and justice can happen in the world, but only under certain conditions. First, Arendt only endorses revenge when the crime calling forth vengeance is extraordinary, one that bursts the bounds of traditional legality. Second, the avenger must give himself up for judgment to the legal system, asking a jury to judge whether his extraordinary act was just even though it wasillegal. These are strict conditions and will only rarely be met. When they are, revenge can be a profoundly political act in the service of justice, one that can restore a broken political order.

In this paper, I will attempt a defense of Hannah Arendt’s usage of the social/political distinction in her “Reflections on Little Rock,” demonstrating that not only is it tenable but also helpful. After distinguishing between her (in)famous distinction between the social and political spheres, I will use the notions of “power,” which is compatible with political freedom, and “force,” which is not, to analyze the strategy of governmentally enforced integration. What I hope to show is that althoughschools are of the utmost political importance, governmental force cannot solve social prejudice, and it cannot legitimately be used outside of the sphere of establishing and protecting legal equality. I will further elucidate Arendt’s illustrative passage on how an integration effort might politically engage problems of exclusion and inequality in schools without having to resort to force to solve social problems and without reducing politics to instrumental administration.

Using Hannah Arendt’s theory as a template, this essay analyzes American foreign policy decisions that led to the Iraq war. Obviously, Arendt would find the misinformation concerning “links” between Iraq and al-Qaeda to be problematic, as well as the unjustified allegation of weapons of mass destruction. In addition, the Bush administration sought to justify the war in roughly two other ways: the liberation of the people of Iraq from the dictatorship of Saddam Hussein and the need to stabilize the region by providing a model for democracy in the Middle East. One may wonder whether Arendt would support the administration’s actions for these other reasons, as Arendt was worried about the emergence of nuclear weapons and certainly was against dictatorships in favor of governments that support the public freedom of the people. However, I argue that Arendt’s overall political theory would not support the war and may, in fact, give us reasons to believe that it will not produce a fully functioning democracy in Iraq. In conclusion, I will contrast the Bush administration’s method to the Arab Spring, which Arendt would more fully support, if the outcome focuses on writing and adopting Constitutions that secure freedom for the people involved.

In Arendt’s interrogations of political modernity, the concepts of history and politics have an ambiguous relation. On the one hand, she insisted that the performative character of politics as action was bound to its narrative aspect as remembrance. She was also a fervent proponent of integrating the historical sense into political understanding. On the other hand, Arendt characterized the modern historical sensibility from the point of view of politics as a “ghastly absurdity,” and asserted that the political thought of our times needed to free itself both “from history” and “from thinking in historical terms.” This paper explores the different meanings that Arendt granted to “history” as a (anti)political force and to historical sensibility as the basis for political understanding. It argues thatnot only were Arendt’s rejection of the modern concept of history and its politics of history central for her critique, but that it was one of the key concerns that shaped the articulation of her own theory of action. The paper also examines the problem against the background of the intellectual tradition of Arendt’s youth and in particular its uncompromising antihistoricism.

According to Hannah Arendt, the first impetus for her final project, The Life of the Mind, was her astonishment at the apparent lack of thought at the root of Adolf Eichmann’s crimes against humanity—a “manifest shallowness” which, nevertheless, “was not stupidity, but thoughtlessness.” This spectacle of the absence of thought, in the light of the immeasurable harm done to the victims of the Nazi regime, motivated her to get to the bottom of what it means to think. Since thinking is often portrayed by philosophers as a withdrawal from the world, Arendt raises the question “Where are we when we think?” In pursuit of an answer, she provides a reading of Kafka’s parable “HE,” which she interprets as a description of the “region of thought” as a battleground between the past and thefuture. This parable enables Arendt to understand the activity of thinking in terms of temporality. While Kafka’s protagonist dreams of rising above the conflict and adopting a position outside time, Arendt argues that thoughtful reflection happens in the “gap between past and future” which philosophers have called the nunc stans or the moment. Rather than being timeless, in her view, thinking moves along a diagonal “thought-train” emerging from this gap. Arendt sheds more light on thinking by considering how its temporality differs from that of willing, which is determined by a primacy of the future. This difference between thinking and willing produces a conflict between them, which many philosophers have struggled to resolve. Arendt presents Hegel as a case in which this conflict is resolvednot, as we might expect, by a triumph of thought, but rather a triumph of the will. Arendt’s reflections on the temporality of thinking in Kafka and Hegel enable us to distinguish several different forms of thoughtlessness according to their dominant tense. Although Arendt does not spell out these distinctions herself, they make it possible to develop a deeper understanding of Eichmann’s thoughtlessness and its relation to evil.

In this paper I consider the essential role that public memory plays in the establishment and maintenance of the political arena and its space of appearance. Without this space and the shared memory that allows it to appear, Hannah Arendt argues, transience and finitude would consume the excellence of word and deed—just as the “natural ruin of time” consumes its mortal performer. The modern era displays a kind of mnemonic failure, however, a situation arising not only from technological developments that “outsource” memory but from several normative breakdowns that Arendt describes as characteristic of modernity. The consequence is the individual’s loss of personal, living access to the community’s memories, and the community’s own failure to engage in the difficultchoice of what counts as worthy of preservation. In failing to ask this question, however, the community abdicates responsibility for establishing the shared norms by which it will govern itself in times of crisis.

International law has recently recognized that sexual atrocities can be acts of genocide. This precedent was pioneered through a landmark lawsuit in New York against Radovan Karadžić, head of the Bosnian Serbs (Kadic v. Karadzic, 1993–2000), a case in which I played a central role. I argue that we may situate this development philosophically in relation to Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. She aims to secure a better understanding of genocide than was achieved at the Nuremberg Trials (1945) and at the Eichmann trial (1961). Arendt claims that these trials were limited by formalism because they applied familiar paradigms onto these new experiences in a manner that obscured what was distinctive about them and that demanded original thinking and a new paradigm. Nuremberg obscured genocide by miscasting it as a traditional “war crime,” a problem that the Jerusalem court exposed butcould have better clarified. Through a first-hand account, I show how we too had to secure a new paradigm by treating the facts on their own terms and coining the crime as “genocidal rape.” We had to wrest this paradigm from a prevailing approach that also formally applied the category of “war crimes” onto these experiences in a way that obscured them and interfered with justice.

I argue in this paper that Hannah Arendt can make a valuable contribution to the debate over global justice and our obligations to the global poor. I maintain that Arendt’s work helps us to see how we might be able to combine the best impulses of both partialists and impartialists, and find a middle ground between taking seriously the importance of community as a human good, and the pressing ethical demands of noncitizens. I demonstrate that throughout her corpus, we see both impulses at work. Arendt’s appreciation for communitarianism is evident in a number of features of her political philosophy: the undesirability of a world state, and the necessity of a political community to secure human rights, a public sphere, and freedom. By contrast, Arendt’s cosmopolitanism is rootedin two features of her political phenomenology: that political action is about the world, a love of the world, and not particular people; and that human togetherness underlies action while human solidarity is its primary motivation. In addition to these two seemingly contradictory threads in Arendt’s work there is a third element: Arendt’s attempt to mediate between these two impulses through her concept of judgment. To judge means to start from your position within a community, and to take into consideration all other relevant perspectives, regardless of nationality. In this manner, we are able to take seriously what we owe to both our compatriotsand people in dire need who are not fellow citizens. In short, in judging, though we begin from our partialist commitments, we must take on a larger cosmopolitan perspective, and ultimately mediate between the two perspectives. Consequently, I hope to show that Arendt can indeed make a contribution to the ongoing debate over our moral obligations to noncitizens in situations of dire necessity.

Focusing on the way in which sexual difference is articulated in Sophocles’ Antigone, I offer a reading that reverses the dialectic most commonly ascribed to the play. While most interlocutors of this classic tragedy connect its heroine to divine law and the private realm and see Creon as a representative of human law and politics, I trace what I call a Sophoclean reversal at the core of the play, suggesting that, through a series of negations and contaminations, things are the opposite of what they seem to be. Using Hannah Arendt’s distinction between the private and public realms as my main point of departure, I show how such a readingreveals the internal contradiction and inherent impossibility of a society whose foundation is the exclusion of women from political life. Such a society, just like Antigone, is an anti seed: it carries within it the necessity of its own downfall.

Arendt and Dewey argue that action is only political when undertaken in a certain way and fear the abolition of a realm in which action can remain political in the strongest sense of the term. But unlike Dewey, Arendt seems to bar some activities from admittance to the public sphere on the grounds that they are insufficiently political. These purportedly nonpolitical activities include urgent measures undertaken to alleviate human want, the application of the sciences to human life, andendeavors to free the populous from political life itself. Dewey however selectively allows these activities to be considered political if and when they prove they are not a threat to the plurality, the hallmark of the public realm. Science must accommodate rather than stifle plurality of opinion, political activity must strive toward an end other than freedom from political life, and action must be performed by actors exercising judgment, in accord with principles. In this way, Dewey’s work show us in more concrete detail than Arendt’s, but in the same spirit, how the private sphere can overlap with the political sphere without infiltrating it or robbing it of its distinctness.