Sonny Bunch — can that be his real name? — writing for the
website of the Weekly Standard on January 6, claims that “it is a misunderstanding of
Munich to view the film as a work of moral equivalence.”
As I have claimed in my
review of the film that it is such a work, and as I would not
wish to be thought to have misunderstood it, I naturally wanted to
read Mr. Bunch’s argument for this proposition. Imagine my surprise
when I found that there wasn’t one. The nearest he gets is when he
writes that
much has been made of a scene near the beginning of the
film in which photos of the Palestinian terrorists being targeted
by the Mossad, and images of the dead Israeli athletes are
juxtaposed. Some have suggested that this is a clear case of moral
equivocation, that Spielberg is trying to imply that there is no
difference between the two groups of “victims.” But if anything, it
seems as though Spielberg is trying to help the audience understand
the motivations of the Israeli government. In actuality, he seems
to be highlighting the fact that the murders at Munich forced
Israel to pursue these terrorists.
Leaving aside his misuse of the word “equivocation” — which
does not mean “making equal” but “prevarication by ambiguity” — we
notice here the curious expression “in actuality, he seems.”
Normally, we would expect “in actuality” to contrast with “he
seems,” seeming being so often opposed to actuality. But as we read
on we realize that “in actuality” only means “I think.” Mr. Bunch
is of course at liberty to think that. He might even be right,
though it is hard to see how we might tell. But those who mention
the juxtaposition of which he writes — as I did in my review — do
not just think something different. We look at the overall tendency
of the picture and then interpret its use of the two sets of
photographs in light of that tendency.
As Mr. Bunch makes no argument about the overall tendency of the
picture based on anything in it but only offers his opinion, I am
at a disadvantage in answering him. But I don’t think it is
possible to argue, on the basis of evidence contained in the movie
— at any rate Mr. Bunch does not — that that tendency is not “in
actuality” a moral comparison bordering on equivalence. I say
“bordering on” equivalence because Mr. Spielberg himself believes
that he has qualified that bald assertion, as I mentioned in my
review, by making the point that the Israelis are morally superior
to the Arab terrorists because of the angst they suffer
after killing. And this seems also to be the view of Mr. Bunch. He
writes:
Spielberg’s characterization of a conflicted Avner is,
in its own way, flattering to the Israelis. Indeed, it says more
good than bad about the quality of the Israeli men who accepted the
job of protecting their country by hunting down the terrorists who
would do it harm. We should not want those tasked with defending us
to be as remorseless as the sociopath terrorists who are so evil
that they take delight in murder.
Let us stipulate that this is true. The question it leaves
unanswered, however, is this: what is the moral status of the
mental and emotional conflict in a “conflicted” killer? Does it,
for instance, become OK to kill somebody if, after killing him, you
feel bad about yourself, even though it would not be OK if you
killed without such compunction? I don’t think that Mr. Bunch would
argue that. But that is precisely what Steven Spielberg does argue,
in cinematic terms anyway, and in doing so he trivializes the
serious moral and political issues he has raised in his film.
Let me explain. The film makes a show of having its hero, Avner
(Eric Bana), conclude that what he has done in killing terrorists
after their acts of terror have been performed and they have
returned, perhaps (or perhaps not), to civilian life is wrong. It
constitutes vengeance and a perpetuation of the cycle of violence
— a familiar concept alluded to on more than one occasion but not,
I think, named as such. Avner comes to this conclusion after he has
suffered the agonies of conscience that are supposed to show his
superiority to the Arab terrorists — who are themselves
represented as “rejoicing” after the commission of one of their
atrocities. At this point Avner tells his Mossad handler, Ephraim
(Geoffrey Rush), that “We should have brought them back to Israel
for trial, like Eichmann.” Now it is true that this is not an
assertion of moral equivalence. Rather the opposite. But neither is
it a practical proposition militarily, diplomatically, or legally.
By proposing as an alternative to what he has done something that
could not have been done, as a palliative for his conscience, he in
effect ratifies Mr. Spielberg’s own emphasis on emotional over
moral truth. What matters to the latter, as to Avner himself, is
not what has been done, or even what he thinks should have been
done, but his feelings about what has been done, which are so bad
that they may be thought to excuse what otherwise could not be
excused.
That is neither a serious moral position nor a serious
qualification of the moral equivalence argument that Mr. Spielberg
has raised in order, as he supposes, to discredit it. As a result,
he instead ends up affirming it, saying exactly the opposite of
what he meant to say (which is also what Mr. Bunch wants him to
say). This is the point I was trying to make by contrasting Mr.
Spielberg’s skill as a film-maker with his muddle-headed thinking
as a moral philosopher. His movie means to allow us to take the
movie-goer’s customary satisfaction in seeing rough justice
administered — as when Wyatt Earp guns down the Clanton boys, or
Marshall Kane faces off with Frank Miller or Shane plugs Jack
Wilson — while morally distancing ourselves from it with the help
of Avner’s pretended disavowal of his own actions after the fact.
That is to say, Avner (if he were real) might not have been
pretending, but Steven Spielberg by treating his attempted
self-exculpation seriously, certainly is. I’m reluctant to call
this directorial dishonesty, but it does come very close to
equivocation.
