汉娜·阿伦特

想看此片已是许久，对于汉娜·阿伦特，一直有着深厚的兴趣。从极权主义的起源一书的出版到平庸之恶观点的提出，汉娜·阿伦特总是给予我敏锐深刻和强硬不妥协的印象。正好深圳有个德国电影展，恰好有此片，于是毫不犹豫地订票观看。

整个影片应该说是拍得比较闷，而且字幕的翻译也有些问题。如果事前对于汉娜·阿伦特缺乏了解，对于艾希曼审判缺乏了解的话，在观影过程中会显得比较吃力。现场观众的反应也说明了此点，大部分观众在大部分时间里都有些昏昏欲睡的感觉，只是到了最后阿伦特在课堂中的激情演说，才调动起部分观众的情绪，甚至伴随着课堂上的掌声，也有观众鼓起掌来。

客观而言，此片还是较为准确地还原了阿伦特当时的生活。作为一部德国影片，既有着德国影片硬与闷，也具有德国影片的明晰与冷峻。该片注重观点的交锋，而对趣味性重视不够。影片对于汉娜·阿伦特，只聚焦于其一生中很短一个时期，即以色列对于纳粹艾希曼审判，她发表文章为艾希曼辩护，从而引起轩然大波。影片只是通过几个闪回，将其一生的思想与行为进行了回顾。导演并不关注阿伦特个人的生活，甚至对于她与其老师海德格尔的关系，也只是在镜头前一闪而过。而是花了相当的笔墨，突出展现了汉娜·阿伦特喜欢思考与毫不妥协的性格。

艾希曼是个恶名昭彰的纳粹罪犯，负责屠杀犹太人的最终方案，被称为“死刑执行者”。很多犹太人对其恨之入骨，在耶路撒冷审判之时，为防被杀，他的前面装着防弹玻璃，也就是阿伦特所称的玻璃盒子。其实对于整个的纳粹德国来说，艾希曼绝对只是一个小人物。在审判之中，他也不承认自己所犯之罪，他认为他的一切行为只是在执行命令。他真诚地信奉着纳粹的思想，坚定地相信领袖所做的一切都是正确的。因此在执行命令时，也是不假思索毫不犹豫地执行。在他的心目中，并未将犹太人当作人，而只是杀人机器所需要吞噬的原料。在他执行任务之时，他已非正常之人，他失去了思考的能力，失去了正常人的情感，而是异化成为一台机器。

汉娜·阿伦特正是据此而为他辩护。艾希曼所犯下的当然是滔天大罪，毕竟六百万犹太人或多或少因他而死去，即使直接死于他手下的也不少。但阿伦特并不认为他应该承担被指控的责任，将其带至法庭上审判也并不公正。这样并不符合对于法庭来说最为重要的正义原则。艾希曼杀人，并非是他与所杀之人有着直接的利益关系，也非他仇视这些他所杀之人，他与这些被杀的犹太人素昧平生。他杀他们是因为要执行命令，他相信元首的话，觉得杀死这些犹太人有利于纳粹事业，有利于德国的生存与发展。

在执行命令之时，他不会去思考自己所行之事是否正义，更不会去质疑元首的命令是否有问题，而且由于没有思考，也没有了正常人内心中固有的善恶判断。艾希曼只是一个杀人机器，他按照体制或者制度的指令，机械而无情地杀死犹太人。只要这种制度不改，将谁放到那个位置上，都会执行杀人的命令，只是程度的不同而已。因此艾希曼所犯下的罪愆，并非个人的罪愆，而是制度之罪，是纳粹那种邪恶的思想或者主义带来的罪愆。

由此，阿伦特提出了她的著名观点，认为艾希曼所犯下的罪行，并非极端之恶，而是平庸的恶，是在邪恶体制之下，每个小人物都可能犯下的恶。艾希曼并非大奸大恶之人，从其法庭上的表现来看，他也是一个彬彬有礼之人。他也不愚蠢，喜欢康德的哲学，并自称以康德哲学来作为自己行事准则。他为人夫为人父，恪守着自己应尽的责任，在家人的眼里完全可能是个完美的儿子、丈夫或者父亲。如果将他放到一个正常的社会，他会是个守法的好公民，也许还会是社会的中坚。不幸的是，他生于乱世，生于一种极其邪恶的制度之下，他没有成为好公民，而是成为了杀人的艾希曼。而这，正是当时整个德国人的缩影，每个德国人都可能成为艾希曼。

艾希曼这种小人物何以会有着平庸之恶？汉娜·阿伦特指出，这是因为他们彻底放弃了思考的权利，以制度之思想代替了自己的思考。他们完全将自己当成了所服膺制度中的一颗螺丝钉，自己存在的目的，就是与这个制度步调一致，就是让这个制度完美地运转，从不去思考这个制度本身是否有问题，思考这个制度的合理性。在电影中，汉娜·阿伦特重复了她老师海德格尔的话，思考并不能给我们带来知识，而只是让我们能够判断善恶与美丑。最后，她提出，思考能带来力量。德国之所以会出现那种浩劫，恰恰是当时所有的德国人都不思考的结果。如果只是追究艾希曼个人的责任，而不去追究制度的罪恶，不去理解这种平庸的恶，那么犹太人的悲剧还会在世界重演。

其实，这种重演一直都在进行中。从纳粹德国，到红色苏联，这都是汉娜·阿伦特所经历过或者所耳闻过。当然，还有一些更平庸的恶，仍充斥于很多地方，包括我们脚下的这片土地。在这里，直到二十一世纪的今天，我们仍然拒绝思考，仍然只有一种思想，一种制度的思想，占据着我们每个人的头脑。我们天然地相信，现存的一切都是合理的，都是理所当然的，并自觉地充当着这架机器上的螺丝钉，维持着这个制度的运转。我们不也是如艾希曼那样，犯下了平庸之恶吗？虽然我们没有如艾希曼那样冷静而疯狂地杀人，但我们仍然会像他一样，坚定不移地去执行制度指派于我们的任何任务。我们没有杀人，并非我们厌恶杀人，只是我们没有被历史推到那样一个位置上。

纳粹将犹太人定义为非人类，因此艾希曼们就会不加思索地执行着命令，从肉体上去消灭这个民族。有些制度则是蔑视着人类普遍认知，仇视着既有的人类文化创造与思想成果，去追求所谓的放之四海而皆准理论，全民不也如上世纪三四十年代的德国人一样，不加思索地疯狂地去摧毁着一切。文革比之纳粹德国，其造成的严重后果，亦是不遑多让的。

当然，汉娜·阿伦特所提出的平庸的恶，并非就是为艾希曼之类的人脱罪。每个身处历史之中的人，都必须对自己的行为负责，都必须承担自己的责任。有个流传很久的故事，不论其真假，倒是可以从中体会出在恶的制度下，个人责任如何界定的问题。柏林墙倒之后，德国法庭审判开枪杀死越境者的军人，这些东德的边防军人称自己是在执行任务。法官反问他们，难道你就不能将枪口抬高一寸吗？如果边防军人抬高自己的枪，说明了他已经有了独立而深入的思考，拒绝将自己作为制度机器的一部分，从而导致人性的复苏，对于善恶也有了自己的判断。而你放弃思考，让制度的思想取代自己的思想，必然会丧失自己的良知，必然导致平庸之恶，众多的平庸之恶，必然会导致整个社会灾难的发生。

阿伦特其实并未止步于此。她在《耶路撒冷的艾希曼》一文中，不光指出了大屠杀中施害者一边的责任，同时也谈及了被害者一方的责任，这才是当时引起轩然大波、激起整个犹太社会愤怒的主要因素。她认为，之所以会发生六百万犹太人被屠杀的事件，当时犹太社区的领袖与纳粹的合作，也是因素之一。同时，整个犹太社会对于这种骇人听闻的屠杀，保持着一种沉默，而未有勇气去反抗，也应对屠杀肩负一定的责任。对于恶的容忍，对于无人性之事的不反抗，实际上也是一种平庸之恶。这种平庸之恶的泛滥，会让极端之恶越演越烈，导致灾难性的后果。

这当然是正处于痛苦之中的犹太人所不能接受的，他们认为这是向死难者亲属伤口上撒盐。在当时情形之下，也确实如此。从此也可看出汉娜的绝不妥协的态度。她本人是犹太人，正如她本人所声称的那样，她并不将自己当成犹太人，尽管她当时也差点进入纳粹集中营。然而，我们认真思考，汉娜·阿伦特的话，也并非没有道理。对于残暴制度的恐惧，只能助长这种残暴的蔓延，从大屠杀直到今天的事例，无不说明这一点。天助自助者，面对制度的极端之恶，我们还需要勇气。

勇气从何而来？汉娜·阿伦特说，思考可以带来力量。当然，思考也会带来勇气。深入而独立的思考，必然会让我们坚信正义，坚信人类普遍的价值，坚信人类的良知终将战胜邪恶，自然就会有了反抗的勇气。只有放弃思考的民族，才是最可悲的。

Arendt & Eichmann: The New Truth
Mark Lilla
Hannah Arendt
a film by Margarethe von Trotta
Hannah Arendt: Ihr Denken veränderte die Welt [Hannah Arendt: Her Thought Changed the World]
edited by Martin Wiebel, with a foreword by Franziska Augstein
Munich: Piper, 252 pp., €9.99 (paper)
1.

In The Drowned and the Saved, Primo Levi’s final book on his experiences at Auschwitz, he makes a wise remark about the difficulty of rendering judgment on history. The historian is pulled in two directions. He is obliged to gather and take into account all relevant material and perspectives; but he is also obliged to render the mass of material into a coherent object of thought and judgment:

    Without a profound simplification the world around us would be an infinite, undefined tangle that would defy our ability to orient ourselves and decide upon our actions…. We are compelled to reduce the knowable to a schema.

lilla_1-112113-250.jpg Hannah Arendt Bluecher Literary Trust
Hannah Arendt and Mary McCarthy, Sicily, 1971

Satisfying both imperatives is difficult under any circumstances, and with certain events may seem impossible. The Holocaust is one of those. Every advance in research that adds a new complication to our understanding of what happened on the Nazi side, or on the victims’, can potentially threaten our moral clarity about why it happened, obscuring the reality and fundamental inexplicability of anti-Semitic eliminationism. This is why Holocaust studies seems to swing back and forth with steady regularity, now trying to render justice to particulars (German soldiers as “ordinary men”), now trying to restore moral coherence (Hitler’s “willing executioners”).

Among Primo Levi’s virtues as a writer on the Holocaust was his skill at finding the point of historical and moral equipoise, most remarkably in his famous chapter “The Gray Zone” in The Drowned and the Saved. It is not easy reading. Besides recounting the horrifying dilemmas and unspeakable cruelties imposed by the Nazis on their victims, he also gives an unvarnished account of the cruelties that privileged prisoners visited on weaker ones, and the compromises, large and small, some made to maintain those privileges and their lives. He describes how the struggle for prestige and recognition, inevitable in any human grouping, manifested itself even in the camps, producing “obscene or pathetic figures…whom it is indispensable to know if we want to know the human species.”

Levi tells the story of Chaim Rumkowski, the vain, dictatorial Jewish elder of the Łódź ghetto who printed stamps with his portrait on them, commissioned hymns celebrating his greatness, and surveyed his domain from a horse-drawn carriage. Stories like these that others have told and others still have wished to bury are unwelcome complications. But Levi tells them without ever letting the reader lose sight of the clear, simple moral reality in which they took place. Yes, “we are all mirrored in Rumkowski, his ambiguity is ours, it is our second nature, we hybrids molded from clay and spirit.” But “I do not know, and it does not much interest me to know, whether in my depths there lurks a murderer, but I do know that I was a guiltless victim and I was not a murderer.”

Two recent films by major European directors show just how difficult this point of equipoise is to find and maintain when dealing with the Final Solution. Margarethe von Trotta’s Hannah Arendt is a well-acted biopic on the controversy surrounding Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem and its place in her intellectual and personal life. Claude Lanzmann’s The Last of the Unjust is a documentary about Benjamin Murmelstein, the last Jewish elder of the Theresienstadt concentration camp, who was considered a traitor and Nazi collaborator by many of the camp’s inmates, and was the only elder in the entire system to have survived the war. The directors have very different styles and ambitions, which they have realized with very different degrees of success. But neither has managed to replicate Levi’s achievement.
2.

Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem was published fifty years ago, first as a series of articles in The New Yorker and then, a few months later, as a book. It’s hard to think of another work capable of setting off ferocious polemics a half-century after its publication. Research into the Nazi regime, its place in the history of anti-Semitism, the gestation of the Final Solution, and the functioning of the extermination machine has advanced well beyond Arendt, providing better answers to the questions she was among the first to address.

In any normal field of historical research one would expect an early seminal work to receive recognition and a fair assessment, even if it now seems misguided. Yet that is only now starting to happen within the history profession, in works like Deborah Lipstadt’s judicious, accessible survey The Eichmann Trial (2011). As the strong reactions to von Trotta’s film indicate, though, the Arendt–Eichmann psychodrama continues in the wider world. Now as then critics focus on two arguments Arendt made, and on the fact that she made them in the same book.

The first, and better known, was that although Adolf Eichmann was taken by many at the time to be the mastermind of the Final Solution, the trial revealed a weak, clueless, cliché-spewing bureaucrat who, according to Arendt, “never realized what he was doing,” an everyman caught up in an evolving bureaucratic program that began with forced emigration and only later ended with extermination as its goal. That one “cannot extract any diabolical or demonic profundity from Eichmann” did not, in her eyes, reduce his culpability. From the start Arendt defended his capture, trial, and execution, which were not universally applauded then, even by some prominent Jews and Jewish organizations.1 This her critics forget, or choose to forget. What they remember is that she portrayed Eichmann as a risible clown, not radically evil, and shifted attention from anti-Semitism to the faceless system in which he worked.

Had Arendt written a book on what she called “the strange interdependence of thoughtlessness and evil” in modern bureaucratic society, it would have been read as a supplement, and partial revision, of what she said about “radical evil” in The Origins of Totalitarianism. No one would have been offended. But in Eichmann she made the unwise choice of hanging her thesis on the logistical “genius” of the Holocaust, whose character she tried to infer from court documents and a few glimpses of him in the bullet-proof glass docket in Jerusalem.

To make matters worse, in the same book Arendt raised the sensitive issue of the part that Jewish leaders played in the humiliation and eventual extermination of their own people. These included the heads of the urban Jewish community organizations that facilitated forced emigration, expropriations, arrests, and deportations; and the heads of the Jewish councils the Nazis formed in the ghettos and camps to keep the inmate population in line. These men were understandably feared and resented even if they carried out their duties nobly, while those who abused their power, like Rumkowski, were loathed by survivors, who circulated disturbing stories about them after the war.

There was little public awareness of these figures, though, until the Kasztner affair broke in the mid-1950s. Rudolph Kasztner was at that time an Israeli official, but during the war he had worked for a group in Budapest that helped European Jews get to Hungary, which was then unoccupied, and then tried to get them out after the German invasion in 1944. As thousands of Jews were being shipped daily to the gas chambers, Kasztner and his group entered into negotiations with the Nazis to see if some could be saved. After various plans to save large numbers failed, Kasztner persuaded Eichmann to accept a cash ransom and allow 1,600 Hungarian Jews to leave for Switzerland, many of them wealthy people who paid their way and others from his hometown and family.

In 1953 a muckraking Israeli journalist claimed that Kasztner had secretly promised the Nazis not to tell other Jews about Auschwitz, trading a few lives for hundreds of thousands. Kastzner sued for libel but lost his case when it was revealed that he had written exculpatory letters to war tribunals for Nazis he had worked with in Hungary. Before his appeal could be heard Kastzner was assassinated in front of his Tel Aviv home, in circumstances that remain obscure to this day. He was posthumously acquitted.

The cooperation of Jewish leaders and organizations with the Nazi hierarchy became more widely known through the Eichmann trial and the publication in 1961 of Raoul Hilberg’s monumental study, The Destruction of the European Jews, which Arendt relied on heavily without adequate attribution. Though Hilberg’s book is widely revered today, he was just as widely attacked after its publication by Jewish organizations and publications for emphasizing the leaders’ cooperation and the rarity of active resistance, which he attributed to habits of appeasement developed over centuries of persecution, an argument Bruno Bettelheim echoed a year later in his controversial article “Freedom From Ghetto Thinking.”

So Hannah Arendt was not betraying any secrets when she discussed these issues in a scant dozen pages of her book; she was reporting on what came up at the trial and found herself in the middle of an ongoing, and very sensitive, polemic. But exercising her gift for the offending phrase, she also portrayed the Jewish leaders as self-deceived functionaries who “enjoyed their new power,” and she termed their actions “undoubtedly the darkest chapter of the whole dark story.”

Perhaps by “dark” all she meant was especially awful and a sign of “the totality of the moral collapse the Nazis caused…not only among the persecutors but also among the victims.” But pulled out of context her phrases made it appear that she was equating doomed Jewish leaders with the “thoughtless” Eichmann, or even judging them more severely. In any case, the whole discussion, a small fraction of the book, was psychologically obtuse and made her monstrous in the eyes of many.

And the response was ferocious, in Europe and the United States. Her now former friend Gershom Scholem sent Arendt a public letter complaining, rightly, about her “flippancy” and lack of moral imagination when discussing the Jewish leaders, and declared her to be lacking in “love of the Jewish people.” Siegfried Moses, a former friend and recently retired Israeli official, sent a letter “declaring war” on her and got the Council of Jews in Germany to publish a condemnation even before serialization of her book in The New Yorker was complete. (He then flew to Switzerland to try to persuade her to abandon the book project altogether.) The American Anti-Defamation League sent out a pamphlet titled Arendt Nonsense to book reviewers and rabbis across the country, urging them to condemn her and the New Yorker articles for giving succor to anti-Semites.

And in the New York intellectual circles that had become her adoptive home, she became the focus of angry attention from friends who once admired her. At the controversy’s peak Dissent magazine organized a forum to discuss the work and invited Arendt (she declined), Hilberg, and their critics. Hundreds showed up and the evening quickly descended into a series of denunciations of Arendt, who was defended briefly only by Alfred Kazin, Daniel Bell, and a few others. Only when President Kennedy was assassinated in November did she finally escape the spotlight.
3.

This messy episode is the surprising focus of Margarethe von Trotta’s much-discussed new film. As von Trotta tells it, her original intention was to trace the arc of Arendt’s life as a whole, much as she did with Rosa Luxemburg in her award-winning biopic Rosa Luxemburg (1986), but found the material too unwieldy. And so she choose to limit herself to Arendt’s life in New York. As she says in the short German book on the film edited by Martin Wiebel, what interested her was not the ins and outs of the Eichmann case but rather Hannah and her friends. This seems an odd choice for a movie but makes sense in view of von Trotta’s other work. Her specialty is didactic feminist buddy movies—in fact, one might say that she’s been making the same film throughout her career. The story usually involves two women, either friends or sisters, one of them a visionary or pillar of strength, the other a jejune admirer, and follows the evolution of their relationship against a political backdrop.

In her first solo directed work, The Second Awakening of Christa Klages (1978), a woman holds up a bank to save the child care center she works at, then gets help from a soldier’s wife who becomes her lover and goes into hiding with her. They end up in a rural Portuguese cooperative getting their consciousness raised, are expelled for lesbianism, and have other adventures before it all ends badly. Marianne and Juliane (1981) uses as its model the life of Gudrun Ensslin, a founding member of the Baader-Meinhof gang who committed suicide in her cell in 1977; the story follows the Gudrun character and her sister as their relationship develops from alienation to reconciliation, and ends in a display of sisterly solidarity that reaches beyond the grave.
lilla_2-112113.jpg Bettmann/Corbis
Adolf Eichmann with Israeli police at his trial in Jerusalem, May 1962

Von Trotta’s Vision (1991), which treats the life of the medieval mystic Hildegard von Bingen, is the most transparent example of the type. It portrays a courageous, enlightened woman prone to epiphanies who stays true to her visions and resists the church’s attempts to silence her. Along the way she develops a deep if unequal friendship with another nun, then another, provoking jealousy and misunderstanding, though it all works out in the end. She dies revered by those around her, though not by the powers that be.

And this, more or less, is the story of Hannah Arendt. The film opens with a jovial Arendt (Barbara Sukowa) in conversation with her best friend Mary McCarthy (Janet McTeer), who in the movie is reduced to a hyperactive sidekick. They discuss men, they discuss love, they have a cocktail party with Arendt’s devoted if wayward husband Heinrich Blücher (Axel Milberg) and fellow New York intellectuals. Then they get news of Eichmann’s capture and the imminent trial. More drinks, more discussion, and then Arendt is off to Jerusalem, where she witnesses the trial mainly from the press room (where she could smoke) and visits an old Zionist friend.

Von Trotta deftly intersperses clips from the actual trial into her film and shows Arendt watching them on closed-circuit television in the press room. This device allows her to stage a conversion scene. As the camera slowly zooms in on Arendt watching Eichmann testify, we see on her face the dawning realization that he was not a clever, bloodthirsty monster but an empty-headed fool caught up in an evil machine. She leaves Jerusalem, writes her articles, and all hell breaks loose in New York.

It is not true, as some reviewers have charged, that the film portrays Arendt as flawless. Throughout she hears complaints about her tone, from friends like McCarthy and her New Yorker editor William Shawn. She is also challenged repeatedly by her close friend the philosopher Hans Jonas (Ulrich Noethen), who is given some of the best lines in the movie (some drawn from Scholem’s letter). Jonas rejected the very idea of “thoughtless” murder and criticized her for lacking psychological sympathy for fellow Jews trapped in the most horrifying circumstances imaginable. Still, by and large, her critics are portrayed as irrational, defensive Jews who, unlike Arendt, refuse to think about the uncomfortable complexities of the Nazi experience, whether out of shame or omertà.

But although Arendt defends herself and the task of “thinking” deftly throughout the film, particularly in a fine public speech at the end, we don’t see her arriving at her position through thinking. Film can portray inner psychological states through speech and action and image, but lacks resources for conveying the dynamic process of weighing evidence, interpreting it, and considering alternatives. Barbara Sukowa smokes and rifles through documents and stares into space like a silent picture star, but we get no sense of the play of a mind. And so we are left with the impression that she, like Hildegard, has had a vision.

And perhaps this is how von Trotta sees Arendt. She admits in the book by Wiebel that she, like many on the German left in the 1960s and 1970s, turned their noses up at Arendt for comparing communism and Nazism as instances of totalitarianism and refused to read her books. But later she came upon Elisabeth Young-Bruehl’s biography and discovered a strong figure, a female philosopher engaged in political debate whose personal life was also rich in friends and lovers. This woman she could admire and celebrate. The problem is that von Trotta has chosen an episode in Arendt’s life where the stakes were so high, intellectually and morally, that they cannot in good taste be treated as the backdrop of a human interest story. Though the battle may be lost, it can never be emphasized enough that the Holocaust is not an acceptable occasion for sentimental journeys. But here it’s made into one, which produces weird, cringe-inducing moments for the viewer.

In one shot we are watching Eichmann testify or Arendt arguing about the nature of evil; in the next her husband is patting her behind as they cook dinner. When Blücher tries to leave one morning without kissing her, since “one should never disturb a great philosopher when they’re thinking,” she replies, “but they can’t think without kisses!” As for the short, incongruous scenes about her youthful affair with Martin Heidegger, the less said the better.

The deepest problem with the film, though, is not tastelessness. It is truth. At first glance the movie appears to be about nothing but the truth, which Arendt defends against her blinkered, mainly male adversaries. But its real subject is remaining true to yourself, not to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. In her director’s statement on the film von Trotta says that “Arendt was a shining example of someone who remained true to her unique perspective on the world.” One can understand von Trotta’s reluctance to get into the details of the Eichmann case, let alone foreshadow what we know about it now, which would have violated the film’s integrity. But something else seems violated when a story celebrates a thinker’s courage in defending a position we now know to be utterly indefensible—as Arendt, were she alive, would have to concede.

Since the Eichmann trial, and especially over the past fifteen years, a great body of evidence has accumulated about Eichmann’s intimate involvement in and influence over the Nazis’ strategy for expelling, then herding, and then exterminating Europe’s Jews. More damning still, we now have the original tapes that a Dutch Nazi sympathizer, Willem Sassen, made with Eichmann in Argentina in the 1950s, in which Eichmann delivers rambling monologues about his experience and his commitment to the extermination project. These have recently been collated and analyzed by the German scholar Bettina Stangneth, and the passages she quotes in her new book are chilling:

    The cautious bureaucrat, yeah, that was me…. But joined to this cautious bureaucrat was a fanatical fighter for the freedom of the Blut I descend from…. What’s good for my Volk is for me a holy command and holy law…. I must honestly tell you that had we…killed 10.3 million Jews I would be satisfied and would say, good, we’ve exterminated the enemy…. We would have completed the task for our Blut and our Volk and the freedom of nations had we exterminated the most cunning people in the world…. I’m also to blame that…the idea of a real, total elimination could not be fulfilled…. I was an inadequate man put in a position where, really, I could have and should have done more.2

In the end, Hannah Arendt has little to do with the Holocaust or even with Adolf Eichmann. It is a stilted, and very German, morality play about conformism and independence. Von Trotta’s generation (she was born in 1942) suffered the shock of learning in school about the Nazi experience and confronting their evasive parents at home, and in a sense they never recovered from it. (She convincingly dramatizes one of these angry dinner table confrontations in Marianne and Juliane.) Even today this generation has trouble seeing German society in any categories other than those of potential criminals, resisters, and silent bystanders.

When left-wing radicalism was at its violent peak in the 1970s the following false syllogism became common wisdom: Nazi crimes were made possible by blind obedience to orders and social convention; therefore, anyone who still obeys rules and follows convention is complicit with Nazism, while anyone who rebels against them strikes a retrospective blow against Hitler. For the left in that period the Holocaust was not fundamentally about the Jews and hatred of Jews (in fact, anti-Semitism was common on the radical left). It was, narcissistically, about Germans’ relation to themselves and their unwillingness, in the extreme case, to think for themselves. Von Trotta’s Hannah Arendt shares that outlook.

And so, in part, did Eichmann in Jerusalem. Reading the book afresh fifty years on, one begins to notice two different impulses at work in it. One is to do justice to all the factors and elements that contributed to the Final Solution and understand how they might have affected its functionaries and victims, in surprising and disturbing ways. In this Arendt was a pioneer; and, as Bettina Stangneth notes in her contribution to Martin Wiebel’s book, many of the things she was attacked for have become the scholarly consensus.

But the other impulse, to find a schema that would render the horror comprehensible and make judgment possible, in the end led her astray. Arendt was not alone in being taken in by Eichmann and his many masks, but she was taken in. She judged him in light of her own intellectual preoccupations, inherited from Heidegger, with “authenticity,” the faceless crowd, society as a machine, and the importance of a kind of “thinking” that modern philosophy had abolished. Hers was, you might say, an overly complicated simplification. Closer to the truth was the simplification of Artur Sammler in his monologue on Hannah Arendt in Saul Bellow’s 1970 novel Mr. Sammler’s Planet:

    Politically, psychologically, the Germans had an idea of genius. The banality was only camouflage. What better way to get the curse out of murder than to make it look ordinary, boring, or trite?… There was a conspiracy against the sacredness of life. Banality is the adopted disguise of a very powerful will to abolish conscience. Is such a project trivial?

Claude Lanzmann’s recent film The Last of the Unjust leaves no doubt about the answer to that question. At the center of it is a remarkable interview he conducted in 1975 with Benjamin Murmelstein, the Jewish elder of Theresienstadt who survived the war. Murmelstein worked closely with Eichmann for seven years and saw through his camouflaging techniques; he even witnessed Eichmann helping to destroy a Viennese synagogue on Kristallnacht. Yet Murmelstein was also a master of the gray zone, a survivor among survivors whose reputation was anything but pristine. Lanzmann’s film plunges us into that zone and reveals more than perhaps even he realizes.

—This is the first of two articles.

      《汉娜•阿伦特》拥有一部成熟的传记片该有的样子，冷静、内敛、完整，不做作，不花俏，抛出了一个与普罗大众都相关的问题，让阿伦特这位20世纪最具思想性的女哲学家给予了答案。当然，这个答案与哲学一样，魅力无穷，随着思考主体和背景的不同变换着光芒。

       汉娜•阿伦特被誉为20世纪最伟大、最具原创性的思想家和政治理论家之一，深受导师海德格尔的喜爱，著于二战后的《极权主义的起源》，被欧美舆论界称为大师杰作。受胡塞尔的现象学影响，中年著有《人的境况》，以思维与行动的概念迭代古典哲学中理论与实践的概念。作为生于德国的犹太人，二战期间开始流亡旅居生活，50年代在美国教学，她是普林斯顿大学任命的首位女性正教授。
 
      讲述这样一位不算家喻户晓的故事，是不容易的。影片没有采用通常传记片的做法——浓缩叙事，即把人物一生中大名鼎鼎的事件描摹一遍，再辅以交叉蒙太奇渲染情绪，俘虏观众的判断，这是大多数名人传记片的拍法。然而，这部德国电影充满批判的内涵，没有采取万花筒式的结构，而是客观坦率地再现与发现阿伦特对纳粹“死刑执行官”艾希曼的庭审观察，写就《艾希曼在耶路撒冷》后处于舆论风暴中的种种。她的视角超越了犹太民族，也挑战了同胞们的情感认同。

      拥有浩瀚哲学星空中最亮的那几颗星辰，德国思想界的严谨思辨传统对后世的影响一直都在。本片绝不止于呈现这个极具话题和学术造诣的女哲学家个体，更意在表现犹太民族面对劫难的反思和质疑，回忆同胞逝去的扼腕和痛楚。正是在一片民族阵痛中，阿伦特的警醒与思考显得振聋发聩。她看到了一种“平庸的恶”，个体在纳粹极权政治下的麻木和不思考，人们犹如机器一般附庸作恶。这种恶平庸又日常化，导致艾希曼一次次执行屠杀命令正是这种“平庸的恶”。

      片尾，阿伦特的好友、同事、邻居、亲人，因为她高高在上的哲人姿态离她而去，她孤独地站在窗边自言自语道：他们都没有意识到，正是这种平庸的恶汇聚起激进的力量，造成了我们的不幸。镜头转向阿伦特的哲学家丈夫，他揽过阿伦特的肩，问道：如果早知出版后会引发争议和批评，你还会出版吗？阿伦特眉头一锁，说：我会。
 
       阿伦特面对真理的诚实和勇气，并在此基础上坚持的公民精神，比他的老师兼恋人海德格尔走得更远。作为基础存在论的弟子，阿伦特没有停留在海德格尔存在与此在的学说，而是将人的生命实践延伸为个体责任与政治生活的关系。当中年的阿伦特每每陷入回忆中，一个象征性抚慰的画面就浮现了：少女阿伦特羞涩又好奇地站在海德格尔面前，提出质疑，海德格尔只说一句：思考是一份让人孤独的事业。
 
      拍哲学家的传记片远比政客、科学家或是明星要难，常常会因为着力思维的快感与痛感显得晦涩艰深，而本片的两层叙事一张一弛。一层用艾希曼庭审牵引，镜头在犹太幸存者之间平移。庭外，阿伦特在耶路撒冷与挚友的对谈也外化为她的思索。严谨的叙事推进，没有绕过任何重要的情节演进，直到阿伦特从堆积如山的资料和庭审录音里，找到了论点。另一层有阿伦特的家人朋友们领着，带出她生活化的一面，话唠群戏像是在试探她的思维底线，当她和闺蜜、丈夫在一起时，每段台词和场景都透露着她本真的一面。那些略带辩论味的形容词和对话，道出了一个女哲学家智性的叛逆和精致的淘气。在与海德格尔重逢的中午，两人漫步在深秋的白桦林里，海德格尔再次表露爱意，又说教了一句：真正喜欢的东西，只出现在少年或是青年，就是所谓“爱在第一眼”。玩笑间也有浓浓的形而上的腔调。
 
      好在这腔调并不令人生厌，相反，也增添了本片的哲学意味。作为一部传记片，高明之处在于没有刻意表现人物的拧巴和纠结，没有刻意把冲突和内心戏戏剧化，而是节奏稳健地只拍一个事件，毫不吝啬地沉溺着展示着她的思考，正如她主张的个体思考与伦理觉醒都是首要的。


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------　　 　　 　　 　　 　　 　　 　 　　 　　 　　 　　 　　
　　　　　　 　　 　　 　　 　　 　　　　　　个人原创影评公众号 爱看　　微信号：aikanai
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　 电影打开了一扇窗， 我们看见了生活，也看见了自己。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　原创电影评论，独立电影推荐。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　和你一起聊聊那些属于你的笑点、泪点和心塞...

漢娜出場時，已身在一個舒適的客廳，屬於新大陸，薄暮時分。在觀眾的視野裡，中景鏡頭平行拉動，紀錄著她和美國朋友的風趣對話。漢娜被朋友嗔怪，當然只是佯嗔，說怎麼站到了我前夫那邊，幫他說話？而口角的前因後果隱藏在敘事之外。漢娜，她的德腔英語總是那麼厲而溫，回答得不假思索：我怎麼會幫他說話？别忘了我是通過你才認識他的，你是我的朋友。

類似的話語曾遙相呼應於十八世紀中國的經典小說《紅樓夢》。故事主人公寶玉的小女友黛玉一度吃醋，迫使寶玉主動自清、說他對另一個表姊妹寶釵絕無非分之想：「你這個明白人，怎麼連『親不間疏，先不僭後』也不知道？……他是才來的，豈有個為他疏你的？」寶玉說的，是中國人自古人際關係和社會建構的基本原則。類似的倫理教言廣泛存在于儒家文化圈。其顯然易見的缺點是不講是非，流於鄉愿。孔夫子說過，益友的首要條件是正直。之所以有此一說，正因為這種人太過稀少。更為例常的是物以類聚，個性相投而無所用心；把大家的相似點當成道德。至於親族間互相包庇而抵抗公權力的偵查，甚至就直接被認作體現了正直本身。沒有空間也沒必要讓哲學橫生思辨。更古老的生物本能已經這樣在人類身上運作了十萬年，寶玉和漢娜不過是最近的兩個例子。

漢娜在紐約猶太老友的祝福和質疑中，獨自飛去以色列旁聽艾希曼的公開審判；----同時訪舊。世界電影的新世代觀眾可能會驚訝於片中猶太人都以德語交談，必須掃除歷史塵封才能認識到老輩猶太人可以看作是一群被納粹賤民化而離散的（一度）德國子民，正如那些曾經被共和國清洗除去的地主和知識份子。

審判開始了。被漢娜日後形容成猥瑣平庸的艾希曼，在鏡頭的取舍下更像個看透一切的（史學）老教授，重複說著「你們不懂那個時代」，而永遠帶著一句潛台詞「你們太無聊」。當起訴官終於被激怒而厲聲喝問：你說你只是執行命令，那麼如果上級命令你殺你父親，你也執行嗎？這時，艾希曼答道：「如果他被領袖證明是有罪的，我當然會執行。」

如果是浸潤中國文化很深的觀眾，此時該會感到強烈的憎惡和恐懼；而不只是在智性層次予以輕蔑的評語，像是漢娜加之於艾希曼的那些形容詞，例如極度愚蠢之類。弒親屬於中國古代刑罰典律中最深重的罪惡，僅次於弒君。但是弒君這個詞偶然還能見諸學者的議論文字，因為史鑒太多，而弒親則幾乎被放逐於言說之外，很難啟齒討論。在一個將父子互相隱庇而抵抗國家權力奉為典則的國度裏，如果出現一個人，竟公開辯稱父亦可殺，弒親無罪，公眾怎麼能說他只是平庸愚蠢？怎麼能不說他已被惡魔附體？

很難輕易對紀錄片剪輯出來的艾希曼投予一個「不思考」的定論。有沒有可能艾希曼正是通過了思考（不管它多麼錯誤或被動），比如，要破除一切所謂封建陋習和個體本能而締造強大民族國家，才選擇了投身納粹體制，也同時被納粹體制選擇，而坐上了那個位置？相反的，有沒有可能，在艾希曼眼裡，那種分别朋友新舊遠近而左右袒的言談、那種朋友之間不責善的信念、相信大家終將言歸於好的信心，才是真正平庸而拒絕思考的生物本能（和屬於東方的愚昧），而它一樣可能在任何時間地點，對任何異類和弱者犯下罪惡，只是它的罪惡更為庸常，甚至日常？

一切留給觀眾思考。本片真是後勁十足。

首先来说媚俗点

1. 抽烟。汉娜抽烟的镜头不下10个吧，即使抽烟是个文艺的，有些文人可能还为之丧了小命，但是并不是每个文艺女青年都要抽烟。即使汉娜幸好是个烟鬼，也不必在慢镜头推进的时候，再拿抽烟搞个更慢的镜头，汉娜绝对有除了抽烟之外，让大家过目不忘的其他特质，我想她老人家躺在棺材里有天听说我们后人这样埋汰她，肯定跳出来，指着我们的鼻子骂我们不懂事，要学习的！

2. 绯闻。她和海德格尔，是永久的绯闻，不灭的神话。不得不承认，没看之前，自己也期待过，电影中会有点涉及。但真的如愿以偿了，又不免失望。海德格尔潜入她房间扑上去的时候，小心无比激动, 生怕眼睁睁地看着一朵鲜花被猪给拱了。还好，导演也只是点到为止，剩下的让大家去想象了！

3.语言。电影语言主要是德语，辅助为英语，对我来说没啥，说英语的时候，因为我主要精力用来看字幕了，可我的几个朋友受不了，说口音太怪，故意为之等等喋喋不休了一路。实际上，我还没揣摩透，为啥导演会安排三个关于语言的情节，一个是同事聚会，纠正汉娜的发音，一个是纽约时报编者？和汉娜讨论语言问题，另外一个就是，编辑部的人暗暗嘲笑汉娜的语法问题。我不觉得这和主题有关，或者说这点不值得这么多镜头。

4. 有关艾希曼的被捕。那个镜头太假，以致于看完之后今天我才反应过来，是被捕。这个还不是重点，重点在于，那个镜头给人的直接感觉是，SS重现，而不是一个恶者罪有应得。更多的是一种，国家机构的强权。不过这也可能是我最近看集中营文献过多而产生的后遗症。

值得推荐的地方：

1. 艾希曼耶路撒冷原材料的应用。我觉得，这个是这个电影给我的第一个最大的冲击。艾希曼的慢条斯理，冷静，逻辑清晰，面无表情...... 和幸存者控诉时的难以自控，语无伦次，甚至崩溃离席形成了鲜明的对比，如果再长点，我估计我都承受不住。这个也在很大程度上印证了汉娜的平庸的恶的观点。

2. 汉娜的私生活。 电影中比较感人的是，她的两个朋友，一个是互相调侃却相看不厌，一个是贴心相助一路相随，看着她们一起欢笑一起飙泪，感觉汉娜很幸运，在高处不胜寒的时候，还有朋友在身边。相比之下，男性朋友，大多比较扯皮，包括海德格尔。

3. 成书过程。如果不看电影，不读传记，大多数人可能想象不到，这本书会给汉娜带来这么多的打击和困扰，我们应该还会一厢情愿地认为，当时世人和我们现在一样对这本经典教材一样顶礼膜拜呢。在最困难的时刻顶住了，坚持下去了，才会成全自己。

4. 时人对该书的反应。当校委会粗暴地决意停下汉娜的课，汉娜决定公开为自己辩解时，我既为她的勇气而鼓掌，同时也为她的无奈而气馁。当学生为她的演讲而鼓掌的时候，我也真正为之欢呼。在此，经常套以“幼稚”的年轻的学生，在此却远远把那些“渊博” 的教授们给落下了，十分值得玩味。

5. 关于形而上的问题。这个影片中提到了很多次“思考”，用海德格尔老爷爷的话就是“das Denken”。我觉得，当中插叙汉娜去质问海德格尔，为什么对世人不解释也好，还是汉娜说，艾希曼的“平庸的恶”不是在于他不能思考，而是否认了自己思考的能力，不愿思考也罢，还有第四条中校委会和学生两种不同的反应，都表明了思考的能力和意愿的问题。其实这个归结到底就是“不能”还是“不愿”的问题，进一步说也就是勇气的问题。用康德老爷爷的话说，就是要有勇气利用自己的理智，脱去蒙昧，逐步启蒙。

总体来说，在糅合了大众口味，人物传记和历史史实和哲学思考的情况下，还能把片子拍成这样，值得推荐。

PS： 今天看了本有关纳粹战犯心理分析的书，有讲到 1946年的时候，有人组织对战犯进行系统的心理分析，一共邀请了10个心理分析师，最终没人做出任何回应。后来分析，他们很清楚，公众的心理期待是什么，所以不敢把他们的结果公之于众。1974年，又重新做了一次，8个战犯8个普通人，分给15个心理分析师，匿名，要求他们说出，分析对象属于那些人群，结果没人认为在其中有战犯，甚至有人认为其中有民权维护人，有艺术家，心理学家。。。 玩味之处，这一结果其实并不支撑汉娜的观点，平庸的恶，因为他们连恶都算不上！


刚刚看了一张Adolf Eichmann的照片，问一下各位同学，在这张面孔上，能看到平庸和恶么？

http://baike.baidu.com/picview/347514/347514/0/4e0b3ea48a0b53cb9052eec2.html#albumindex=0&picindex=1

人类的确是思考的动物吗？

拜校友赠票看了上海国际电影节的参展影片，知道了汉娜-阿伦特这个人和关于她的这一段历史，激发了一些无意义的思考。

在40多年后的今天，当年造成轩然大波的阿伦特观点“平庸的邪恶”已经成为看待参与过纳粹德国活动的无数德国人和其他人的主流观点。前两年的获奖影片《Reader》讲述的就是这样一个故事。但是在当时，一个从纳粹集中营中逃出来的犹太人提出这样的观点——即某名具体的纳粹军官并非自主拥有邪恶的思想和行为，只是通过盲目地执行命令协助了邪恶的实现——却被犹太人群看做是一种背叛。

在我看来，这是对思想家的双重讽刺：即群众不能理解思想家的思想，同时群众对其思想做出的情绪反应正是思想家极力想要指出的问题：纳粹德国的民众是随着从众的惯性和莫名的对犹太人的偏见而默认了纳粹对犹太人的灭绝；而战后的犹太人是抱着从众的复仇的情绪和同样莫名的民族主义仇恨阿伦特“为纳粹开脱”的观点。

在情绪驱使的两段历史潮流之上，思想家在孤独地阐述着她的观点，年轻的学生听进去了，因为他们没有过去的包袱，没有个人的历史遭遇，作为一种思想他们貌似理解了；但是所有其他人，都被情绪席卷着，完全听不进去。

思想家说，独立的思考（和判断），是人之所以为人的基本条件——这听起来很美的话，无疑是一种理想化的误导。如果要落实到具体的个人的话，我们来猜一下，当今地球上的60亿人口，有多少是能够思考的，又有多少是能够独立思考的。

理性，这是自启蒙运动以降的至高目标和不懈追求，带领西方世界在300多年的时间里创造了空前的人类福祉，但是残酷的一战和二战让这一追求遭遇了空前的失败，造成了理想的崩塌。我私下认为，这就是为什么战后的所有艺术都如此丑陋不堪，因为（视觉）艺术最能直观反映当代心灵的面貌。

如果说对理性的追求在西方遭到了重挫，那么我们中国人就太幸运了，因为我们从来就没有追求过那个东西。

在人类的所有属性中，理性算是非常纯粹和崇高的，但却也是最脆弱的。古今中外，茫茫人海，有多少人像阿伦特这样，把一生投入理性的思考，又有多少人像她一样，为理性做出过牺牲？相比之下，人们为其他的东西不懈追求，奋勇牺牲前仆后继：金钱、权利、爱情、性、爱国主义、民族主义、宗教——所有这些，很不幸的，都跟理性没有什么关系，如果不是对立的话。

从前读MBA，印象最深刻的是一个教Organization Behavior的教授讲的一句话（他正好也是美国犹太人）：永远不要设想人们是理性的（不论是在股市里、谈判桌上或者会议室里）。而近年来在金融领域一个热门的研究课题就是心理状态和情绪对投资行为的影响。

总而言之，如果阿伦特的思考有任何缺陷的话，那就是她对于人类的理性程度和对理性追求的热情都估计过高了。在我看来，这个人类，离理性的光辉殿堂，还有半个世界的距离。

《漢娜．鄂蘭：真理無懼》：平庸之惡還是惡之平庸？


(原載於《時代論壇》一三七○期.二○一三年十二月一日)

http://brucelaiyung.blogspot.hk/


為甚麼歷史上會出現納粹大屠殺和文化大革命等滅絕人性的災禍？即使幾個極度聰明、心裡滿懷惡念的人聯手，也無法造成規模那麼巨大的人道罪行。參與那些惡行的，包括了無數平民百姓。猶太裔哲學家漢娜鄂蘭（Hannah Arendt）經歷過二次大戰，從納粹德國的魔掌下逃亡到美國，畢生致力研究有關邪惡和極權的問題。《漢娜．鄂蘭：真理無懼》這齣傳奇片，以鄂蘭在一九六一年在以色列見證「耶路撒冷大審」前後的事跡為主幹。鄂蘭本是暴政的受害者，但她嘗試抽離而冷靜地思考邪惡根源和歷史責任的問題，結果惹來激烈的批評。

曾參與大屠殺的納粹軍官艾希曼（Adolf Eichmann）一九六○年被以色列擄走，並舉行公審。在大學任教的鄂蘭向知識份子雜誌《紐約客》自薦，願意親臨大審現場，撰寫一份歷史紀錄。艾希曼在審訊時的表現令鄂蘭感到詫異：他完全不像一個兇殘暴戾的惡魔，只是一個平凡人。甚至可以說，他不是沒有道德感的，因為他堅持自己「盡忠職守」是應份的。他推說，他不是親手殺人的兇手，他只是執行命令。艾希曼的「純真」表現使鄂蘭不得不反思「邪惡是甚麼」的問題。邪惡是有本質的嗎？抑或邪惡只是良善之缺乏？二○○八年上映的電影《讀愛》（The Reader）的女主角Hanna在二戰時也曾為納粹服務，而她只是一個文盲，幹甚麼都只是執行任務而已。結果真實的艾希曼和Hanna都被視為戰犯而判刑。

鄂蘭除了把別人眼中的惡魔描述為一個平凡人之外，也把那些曾與納粹合作的猶太社群領袖牽進來，指他們也須對大屠殺負責。她這樣的論點旋即惹來學界內外、猶太同胞與其他族裔的人、報章讀者與鄰居等各方的攻擊和恐嚇，說她背棄自己的同胞、違反人性、冷酷和高傲。連大學也想中止她的教席，她卻堅拒妥協，並在大學講堂裡辯解時提出「Banality of Evil」的名言。「Banality of Evil」多被譯作「平庸之惡」，偶爾引來誤解，認為這是從高高在上的精英姿態，詆譭平凡的普羅大眾，意味著他們本身蘊藏著一種邪惡的特質。其實「Banality of Evil」的意思應是「邪惡的平庸面向」。鄂蘭澄清，她不是說像艾希曼所做的事並非不邪惡，而他受刑也是罪有應得；她想指出的是邪惡不一定體現為滿懷惡念的魔君形式，猶如《讀愛》中目不識丁的女主角也是希特拉的化身。邪惡會以「平庸」的方式體現於世，其特徵就是停止和拒絕獨立思考，只管跟隨比個人更大的國家機器和集體意識。在巨大的邪惡之網羅籠罩之下，即使「盡責」本可稱為美德，一旦人們停止思考，彷彿把腦袋皆變為「外置硬碟」，結果仍是災難性的。「盡忠職守有甚麼問題」的反詰，令人想起無數香港人的金科玉律：「都係搵食啫！」香港人並非不會思考，只是把精力都放在「搵食」之上，公餘時間不想用腦，所以反智電視劇比國家地理頻道更吸引。他們也不是不關心社會，只是那些高官和輿論領袖的「語言偽術」功力太高，真假難辨，只能順大勢而行。

《漢娜．鄂蘭：真理無懼》穿插著鄂蘭與德國哲學家馬丁海德格（Martin Heidegger）舊日交往的回憶片段：當日已婚的大學教授海德格與學生鄂蘭發展一段不倫關係。一九三三年，海德格加入納粹黨並成為弗萊堡大學的校長，助紂為虐。戰後二人重逢，海德格已是聲名狼藉，卻跟鄂蘭解釋說當時世局艱難，作為不諳政治的學者，他只是一時糊塗，很多人的攻擊也是無理中傷云云。鄂蘭似乎被打動了。電影對於鄂蘭和海德格的關係只是蜻蜓點水，主要是跟鄂蘭和現任丈夫的恩愛甜蜜作比較，卻沒有深入地勾劃鄂蘭、海德格和艾希曼之間的微妙關係。儘管說艾希曼只是機器裡的一顆螺絲，但海德格怎能算是不會思考的平庸之輩？電影也沒有提及戰後鄂蘭如何跟海德格回復曖昧的師友關係，幫助名聲掃地的他回復學術界的地位，而他也始終沒有真正悔改。若編劇在鄂蘭和海德格的關係上著墨更深，或許會令電影沒那麼沉悶平板。其實魔掌也是孤掌難鳴的，邪惡那平凡庸俗的一面，及其狡黠兇惡的一面實是渾成一體。