I live in Israel where I often read about the moral dilemmas faced by the Israel Defense Forces as they fight terror that threatens the fabric of daily life. There are no simple answers to these complex questions. I reflected on this reality as I watched Sicario, a tense and unsettling look on law enforcement in America as it tries to control illegal drug trafficking in Mexico, a drug trade that infiltrates the southern border of the United States.
The story begins with an FBI SWAT raid of a home used by Mexican drug cartel kidnappers. Agent Kate Macer and her partner Reggie Wayne discover dozens of dead bodies, presumably executed by drug dealers. Kate’s boss thinks highly of her and recommends that she participate in a special task force put together by the Defense Department and the CIA to ferret out the people who caused these horrific murders.
The leaders of the team are CIA agent Matt Graver and his partner Alejandro Gillick, who are joined by U.S. Marshals and an elite cohort of Delta Force soldiers. Their target is Manuel Diaz, one of the major players in the drug cartel operation. As the mission progresses, Kate wonders what the true purpose of the mission is. Gradually she learns that Diaz is only important for his connection to the drug lord Fausto Alarcon.
In order to reach him, many may die. CIA agent Graver believes that collateral damage is worth it if they achieve the goal of disrupting the flow of drugs into America. Kate sees it as using immoral means to attain worthy goals. She is uncomfortable with the mission, which expects her to compromise truth in order to attain the desired results.
Jewish tradition asks us to consider the moral calculus before embarking on a mission that involves compromising one’s integrity. The litmus test is whether the action fits within the parameters of the Torah and Jewish Talmudic law, which offers general guidelines as to how to deal with these very thorny moral questions.
In an article on battlefield ethics based on sources in the Talmud and Codes of Jewish Law, Rabbi Michael Broyde outlines the conditions that allow for a theoretical “license to kill.” One may not kill an innocent third party to save someone’s life. One may not compel a person to risk his life to save another. One may not kill a person after he has already committed an evil act, and one may not use more force than is minimally needed. Moreover, before waging battle, one must first try to establish peace. Of utmost importance is killing only combatants, not innocent people. They must be given a chance to leave the battle theater. Once these conditions are met, then one has a theoretical “license to kill.”
When one considers these givens of Jewish tradition as guidelines for proper conduct, we see that the good guys in Sicario operate in morally ambiguous terrain. It is not easy to live in this environment, which continually tests our sense of right and wrong.
Understanding this reality, Alejandro advises the morally sensitive Kate to leave: “You should move to a small town, someplace where the rule of law still exists. You will not survive here. You are not a wolf, and this is a land of wolves now.”
Sicario is not a typical action flick, although it has its share of tense and visceral action scenes. The film also makes us think about the complexity of law enforcement in an environment where there is no respect for the law. There are no easy answers for someone with a conscience. Kate Macer is thrown into chaotic universe with no moral center, and it unnerves her. Watching Sicario unnerves us as well.
I once heard a quotation that was reputed to be first said by Eddie Cantor, a celebrated comedian in the late 40s and 50s, which was “It takes twenty years to become an overnight sensation.” It was a piece of wisdom that caught my attention many years ago and that remains with me today. It is advice that I share with young people trying to make a mark in the world and who encounter setbacks, but I also tell myself and other seniors the same piece of advice. Let me explain why recently I have this adage on my mind.
During the course of many years of serving as a school principal, there have been occasions when I had to publicize bad stuff within the school community. It was something I never liked to do; but when it came to matters of health and safety, I felt I had to go public if that is what it took to protect other students.
I was born in Mt. Vernon, New York, a small bedroom community bordering the Bronx and only 25 minutes by train to Grand Central Station. To me Mt. Vernon was home. My family lived there as did many of my aunts, uncles, and cousins.
My sister Carol, of blessed memory, was six years older than me. She had Down’s syndrome, and as a kid I vividly remember going with Carol and my mother to Teen Town, a Thursday night social get-together where developmentally disabled teenagers could mingle socially, form friendships, and plan outings together. It was there that Carol met Sam Berniger, who also had Down’s syndrome.
A friend of mine in his seventies was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s several years ago. At first it was indicated by minor forgetfulness; but over time, the symptoms became more severe. His wife confessed to me after a couple of years that her husband was no longer the person he once was. He barely recognized her or the rest of his family. Indeed it was a sad and disturbing reality that the family confronted.
Relatives recently visited us in Israel. While here, we visited the celebrated Museum of the Blind, which is part of the Israel Children’s Museum in Holon. The exhibit is called Dialogue With the Blind, which offers an hour experiencing the world of the blind with a sightless guide.
For many years I would listen to inspirational tapes on my way to and from work. Most of the tapes were transcriptions of lectures from Rabbi Avigdor Miller, a contemporary Jewish ethicist, and Zig Ziglar, an icon in the field of motivational speakers. I gleaned insights from both of them, but one insight of Zig’s, in particular, resonated within me as I watched Avatar, a science-fiction tale of an exploratory expedition to Pandora, an Earth-like moon on which live the Na’vi, a human-like species, together with an incredible feast of plant life.
I recently was in Zimbabwe touring Victoria Falls, one of the world’s great natural wonders. Members of the group had the opportunity to take a helicopter ride to view the Falls. Such a ride was not on my bucket list, so I passed. But many members of my group took the trip, discounting any possible risk. When they returned from the flight, they all were exhilarated about taking the helicopter ride. It appealed to their sense of adventure and they felt that this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that they wanted to enjoy.
At my elementary school, a couple of kids in the school band thought my name was Herbert Coleman, not Herbert Cohen. They assumed I was not Jewish. Then one day they became aware that my name was Cohen and they knew I was a Jew. That realization gave them license to threaten and intimidate me. One told me not to show up for the school band parade in which I played drums. When I told my mother about the threat, she went to the principal and related the incident to him. Moreover, she told him that she expected me to be in the parade as planned, and I was. But the memory of the event is still with me. I was the same person whether my name was Coleman or Cohen, but for people who are prejudiced, the stereotype becomes the reality.
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