Written by Kevin Healey, Institute for Communications Research
Editor's Note: This post is part of a summer-long series that includes the writing of Kevin Healey (Communications) and Martha Webber (English) as they attend Cornell's SCT (School of Criticism and Theory) during the summer of 2008. As always, feel free to join the conversation.
In The Fragility of Empathy After the Holocaust (2004), Carolyn Dean begins by setting aside the question of whether, in fact, contemporary society suffers from a decline in empathy. Instead, her focus is how intellectuals (namely her fellow historians) have constructed the discourse of such a decline. They have done so by invoking certain tropes such as the “pornography of violence” in Holocaust literature and the “indifference” of German bystanders. Ironically, Dean argues, in deploying such tropes historians have not succeeded in clarifying the nature of empathy, the causes of its putative decline, or the possibility of its restoration. Rather, they have provided a means of avoiding serious engagement with the problem. Though she initially brackets the question of whether contemporary society suffers from a decline in empathy, though, it is clear that her unique approach to historiography is driven by this very concern.
Dean claims that references to the “pornography of violence” in Holocaust literature (as well as film and other media) are ultimately devoid of substance. The phrase carries intense moral weight, but because of its ability to escape definition, it “turns out not to explain anything at all.” It suggests a relationship between sexual and political pathology, and implicates the commercializing effects of mass media in the alleged increase in “numbness” toward injustice. But Dean insists that the invocation of pornography “make[s] it easier not to think” and diverts our attention from the question of how we might “forge a critical usage of empathy.” In the end, this pervasive trope does not move the conversation forward but merely expresses a vague and persistent post-Holocaust anxiety that there may be continuity between a normal person and a violent monster. In a broader sense, this anxiety troubles the liberal Enlightenment commitment that we share a common humanity which provides the foundation for a rational, democratic society.
What should we make of Dean’s emphatic rejection of pornography as a metaphor for describing explicit materials that recall the horrors of the Holocaust? Is her call to abandon this trope well-founded? Should we reserve some special place for the metaphor while seeking better approaches, such as Dean finds in the work of Omer Bartov? And should we be concerned, as Dean appears to be, about the alleged decline of empathy?
Editor's Note: This post is part of a summer-long series that includes the writing of Kevin Healey (Communications) and Martha Webber (English) as they attend Cornell's SCT (School of Criticism and Theory) during the summer of 2008. As always, feel free to join the conversation.
In The Fragility of Empathy After the Holocaust (2004), Carolyn Dean begins by setting aside the question of whether, in fact, contemporary society suffers from a decline in empathy. Instead, her focus is how intellectuals (namely her fellow historians) have constructed the discourse of such a decline. They have done so by invoking certain tropes such as the “pornography of violence” in Holocaust literature and the “indifference” of German bystanders. Ironically, Dean argues, in deploying such tropes historians have not succeeded in clarifying the nature of empathy, the causes of its putative decline, or the possibility of its restoration. Rather, they have provided a means of avoiding serious engagement with the problem. Though she initially brackets the question of whether contemporary society suffers from a decline in empathy, though, it is clear that her unique approach to historiography is driven by this very concern.
Dean claims that references to the “pornography of violence” in Holocaust literature (as well as film and other media) are ultimately devoid of substance. The phrase carries intense moral weight, but because of its ability to escape definition, it “turns out not to explain anything at all.” It suggests a relationship between sexual and political pathology, and implicates the commercializing effects of mass media in the alleged increase in “numbness” toward injustice. But Dean insists that the invocation of pornography “make[s] it easier not to think” and diverts our attention from the question of how we might “forge a critical usage of empathy.” In the end, this pervasive trope does not move the conversation forward but merely expresses a vague and persistent post-Holocaust anxiety that there may be continuity between a normal person and a violent monster. In a broader sense, this anxiety troubles the liberal Enlightenment commitment that we share a common humanity which provides the foundation for a rational, democratic society.
What should we make of Dean’s emphatic rejection of pornography as a metaphor for describing explicit materials that recall the horrors of the Holocaust? Is her call to abandon this trope well-founded? Should we reserve some special place for the metaphor while seeking better approaches, such as Dean finds in the work of Omer Bartov? And should we be concerned, as Dean appears to be, about the alleged decline of empathy?