Category: Commentary

It happened here because the people made it happen… From the movie Nuremberg

Even as a young girl I wondered how it was possible that the atrocities of Adolf Hitler and his Nazi henchmen took place in a country seemingly so advanced and civilized. I suppose that mine was a kind of naïveté that could not imagine the possibility that ordinary people would look the other way while vile things were happening in their midst. I wanted to believe that the entire event was an aberration that would be impossible to reproduce in any other time or place in history. 

The movie Nuremberg staring Rami Malek and Russell Crowe tells the story of an army psychiatrist, Jack Kelley, assigned to determine the mental well-being of high ranking Nazi prisoners about to stand trial for their crimes against humanity in the German city of Nuremberg. Among the accused is the man who had been second in command of the Nazi movement, Hermann Goring. 

The story, based on a book by Jack El-Hai, takes a psychological look at evil through the prison meetings between Goring and Kelley. Each man is manipulating the other in a game of cat and mouse. The psychiatrist Kelley believes that his interviews will afford to an understanding of the kind of psychosis that leads to evil. He confides that he may even be able to write a book about what he finds that will ensure that horrors such as those perpetrated by Hitler and his henchmen will never happen again. Goring of course is intent on manipulating Kelley to believe that he is essentially a good guy who had no knowledge of the most egregious aspects of the murderous philosophies that created the death camps where so many lost their lives. 

The back and forth between the two men is a fascinating view of the kinds of evils that humans are capable of doing by convincing themselves that their beliefs are actually for the common good. Both Crow and Malek rise to near perfection as actors while delivering the message that evil is not always a product of psychosis but all too often is derived from the mundane. 

Most of us know the horrific history of Nazi German under the authoritarianism of fascism. We are aware of the outcomes of the Nuremberg trials. What we do not often consider is how seemingly ordinary people fell under the spell of the horrific political views that would eventually destroy the country and its people. It holds those who looked away as the violence accelerated as accountable as the leaders like Goring. It implies that there may have been a point at which the people might have been able to make it stop but chose not to do so either out of fear, indifference or agreement with the basic tenets of the movement. It suggests that there comes a point in such a situation after which it is too late to turn back. In a sense it indicts ordinary folks who allow men like Goring to fool and dominate them. 

The theme of the movie is very clear. We must all be vigilant lest we allow ourselves to be manipulated into doing evil by a narcissistic con man. What happened in Germany in the last century can happen anywhere and has done so throughout history. The message of Nuremberg   is important for us to remember whenever we see governments scapegoating groups of people, using want and anger to take power, turning people against each other by vilifying those who are unwilling to bow to their demands. These are all warning signs that we should be able to see even without training in psychiatry. 

Nuremberg tackles a large number of ideas at the same time. It is intense and disturbing but is definitely a film that we should each take the time to view and then discuss. The acting from Rami Malek, Russell Crowe, and Michael Shannon as an American prosecutor in the trial is sure to garner nominations and even awards. It is a thought provoking piece that does not demand that the viewers see the characters and topic in all the same way. It instead challenges us to critically think about what happened then and what might happen now or in the future. 

I know that in these difficult times it feels better to just laugh and find ways to enjoy life. When our Congress seems to be nonfunctioning and so many people in our nation are out of work, in financial limbo and angry with each other we may not wish to add a deep movie to our list of ways to use the time when we most need to relax. I would nonetheless challenge you to visit a theater with a friend or even someone with whom you disagree and then spend some time talking about what you have just seen. Sometimes we have to face up to hard conversations to set things right rather than relying only on one man, one party, one group to save us. We have the power to protect our nation, its people and our families. We should always be willing to use that power. If we choose to pretend that nothing is wrong we head down a pathway from which we may never be able to return. That is how horrible things happen. 

“Play is the highest form of research.” Albert Einstein

My mother always knew that my brother, Michael, was a brilliant soul even when others were not so sure. He was curious from the day he was born and his intelligence showed itself in the intensity with which he interacted with the world around him. She had photos of him among a flock of ducks with the most serious expression on his face while other children were laughing with delight at the antics of the birds. Mama treasured the picture because she felt that it demonstrated his intense concentration and the fact that he was quite seriously thinking about what made those ducks the way they were.

When Michael was a toddler he often got into trouble because he always seemed to be intent on discovery of some kind or another. Once he dove his hands into an ant bed because he wanted to know what had made such an interesting structure. Of course he quickly found out that the critters had an incredible sting that left him with a swollen body for a couple of days. 

On another occasion when he was about three years old he was playing with me and he managed to unscrew a part from a little doll swing that I had. Just as I was chastising him I watched in horror as he studied the metal screw as though he was deciding how it worked. First he tasted it but was smart enough not to try to swallow it. Then he put it up his nose and it disappeared. That little experiment landed him in the hospital and resulted in his tonsils and adenoids being removing. 

I think that most parents might have viewed his courageous interactions with nature and objects as the silliness of little ones but my mother seemed to understand that he was actually attempting to find out what made those things tick. It would be how he was for all of his life and sometimes it made him seem as if he was in another world as he put on his thinking cap as my mother often called his faraway looks.

My little brother walked around with books about how to tie knots and a large volume written and illustrated by Werner von Braun predicting a future journey to the moon when other kids were gazing at Little Golden Books. He was fascinated with numbers and science and my mother encouraged it in his play before he ever went to school. 

Because my brother was very quiet and seemed to be in a world of his own some of his teachers would initially view him as a slow student. He would surprise them when he silently completed his work with perfection and insight. Soon enough they too realized that he was alway learning from the world around him and they gave him a wide berth to do his thing. 

Michael wanted to know why and how everything worked so he all too often took things apart and then attempted to put them back together again. Sometimes he did not have the skill to make the repairs but both of my parents would just smile and insist that his learning was more important than any object. When he attempted to determine how the moving joints of my favorite doll worked he summarily undid the intricate balance of rubber bands and eye hooks and there she lay in pieces when I came home from school. Somehow as a seven year old I was not able to appreciate his experiments as much as my parents did so when they defended him I was confused. I would have to grow up before I fully understood what a precious gift he had.

I learned soon enough how bright and wonderful my brother is. He would attend Rice University and earn both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in mathematics and engineering. His mind was on a plain so much higher than anyone that I knew that I often wished that my brilliant father had been around long enough to enjoy the kind of conversations with Michael that only two peas in a pod would totally comprehend.

Micheal spent his entire career working as a contractor for NASA. He was the author of the software that sent astronauts to the International Space Station. He still reads constantly and pushes his mind beyond the limitations of most of us. I smile when he launches into a detailed discussion of the mechanics of why a plane crashed or how a mathematical calculation came to be. I remember that faith in him that my mother had from the time he was born and the joy that she and my father shared whenever they watched him exploring the world around him. 

We sometimes put limits on children out of fear that they may hurt themselves or that there may be something wrong with them if they do not seem to be just like all of the other kids. We would do well to believe like my mother whose intuition told her that play is evidence of a working mind attempting to make sense of the world. Big research is happening in them minds of children every single day and when we encourage them their minds go to the most wonderful places.

T.S Eliot wrote The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock somewhere between 1910 and 1911 to express the difficulty that humans faced in adjusting to the modern world. In one of the lines of the poem Prufrock proclaims with frustration, “That’s not what I meant at all!” 

T.S. Eliot was way ahead of his time. I sometimes wonder what he might think of our present times when we humans seem to be misunderstanding and bickering with each other so much. Perhaps he would just suggest that people have not really changed that much and that we humans have always had a tendency to ascribe wrong beliefs to each other. He certainly had a clear understanding of human nature in his writing that is no doubt the reason that his work lives on as a classic.

We are at one of those moments in time that makes me scratch my head in total confusion because every single time I write down my thoughts somebody totally misunderstands what I am attempting to say. I have to wonder if I need to be clearer in the choices of my words and phrases or if we humans are hardwired to overlay our own feelings onto others. After all there have been situations in which we humans have completely missed the mark when it came to actively listening to the people around us without mentally drafting our rebuttals even as the person was still speaking. Perhaps it has always been true that we view the world through a lens that is protective of the essence of who we are. 

A few weeks ago I had scheduled a blog that was intended to discuss violent shooters in general. I write things sometimes as far out as a month, so not everything that I compose is related to the most recent events. On this day I woke up and realized that my commentary coincided with the tragic murder of Charlie Kirk. What I had written had nothing whatsoever to do with my feelings for Mr. Kirk one way or another so I mentioned at the top of the blog that my musings had been composed weeks before. I wanted people to know that my generalizations could not necessarily be attributed to my thoughts on Charlie Kirk’s death. I realized that it was almost eerie that my mention of guns and violence and disturbed young men had hit so close to yet another grotesque tragedy in our nation. 

Sadly, I really wonder how many people actually read what I had written. Many of their responses to me had nothing whatsoever to do with the text. Some went into long defenses of Mr. Kirk as though I had somehow very coldly disrespected him. They challenged my feelings and my personal beliefs and brought up other times when they disagreed with me, none of which had any connection to the blog for that day. I literally thought of J. Alfred Prufrock and the irony of our frequent difficulties in truly understanding each other. 

On another occasion I wrote about my sorrow over the death of George Floyd. I had watched him choking and calling out for his mother as he was dying under the knee of a police officer and it horrified me. I had also been contacted by one of my former students who was devastated by what he had seen. He told me that he knew that I would understand how to speak of the tragedy in a way that would help people know how he and other young Black men were feeling in that moment. That is what I tried to do, but even then I had people misunderstand the main idea of my essay and then accuse me of supporting riots.

Somehow our tendencies to simply talk over each other seem to have become worse in the hundred plus years since Eliot wrote his poem. Even when I attempt to clarify my thoughts and embrace a willingness to consider why the other person is so upset with me, I can’t seem to get through to him or her. It is as though we all live in different worlds speaking different languages. 

I have often suggested that whenever we feel that someone is very wrong in their thinking our first response should be to encourage them to tell us what made them feel so upset. I find that more often than not the person has had a life experience that was so terrifying that it strongly affects how they react to different situations When I hit near what is a trigger for them they go inside themselves and have difficulty really hearing me. In those cases I attempt to reflect what I hear them saying with respect rather than immediately defending myself. Given an opportunity I use active listening that goes something like this:

I hear you saying that my blog upset you. Is that right?

Wait for response.

What were the things that caused your feelings?

Wait for response.

What I hear is… Do I have the right idea?

Wait for response. 

Would you like to know why I wrote these things?

Wait for response.

And so it goes. 

Sometimes this really works and saves a relationship. Two people only intent on defending themselves rarely come to a state of understanding and respect for each other. 

Try this the next time someone goes off on you and you feel like J. Alfred Prufrock murmuring “That is not what I meant at all.” Honor people’s feelings and they are more likely to honor yours. If they stay angry then they have most probably made up their minds no matter what. That’s when it’s time to just let it go.  

“All you need is the plan, the road map and the courage to press on to your destination.” — Earl Nightingale

As parents, teachers, friends we do our best to encourage young people to follow their dreams, realistically decide how to so and then keep trying in spite of setbacks. What we too often forget  to understand is that sometimes that kind of journey can be far more difficult than anyone ever imagined and sometimes life makes it impossible to reach for the stars. 

In working with underserved, often misunderstood students I have learned that the roadblocks that some young people face feel insurmountable. Little wonder that many of them set their hopes aside and give in to the realities of their situations. Depending on a person’s situation in life it can be harder to press on to a destination. 

Children with loving parents, financial security, good health, excellent education systems, average to above average intellect and multiple support systems are more likely to be able to trudge forward to fulfill an imagined destiny than those living in abusive situations, poverty, and learning disabilities. Removing any of the safety rails that make life more likely to lead to success creates barriers that are sometime all but certain to overcome the determination of even the most dedicated individuals. We don’t all have the same start down the road. Being pushed far behind can be devastating and yet there are those who seem to believe that it is unfair to provide such a person a break when it is apparent that they will demonstrate all of the positive qualities necessary if given a fair chance to succeed.    

I can see the faces of students who found the courage to press on because a teacher or relative or even a friend saw something in them that nobody else was able to see. Instead of consoling them to accept their deficiencies someone helped them find the tools they would need to reach goals that seemed far out of reach. We all know someone who seemed to have it all who gave up after only a few disappointments and someone who was not deterred in spite of many naysayers and setbacks. 

I am particularly proud of a young man whose dreams seemed so far out reach that many adults tried to help him accept that his limitations would not get him where he wanted to be. He lived in the shadow of downtown Houston in an area with schools that regularly ranked low in academic excellence. His family did not possess the kind of wealth that would buy him tutors or experiences or references. He had some learning difficulties that tended to hide his actual brilliance. When he announced that he wanted to be an engineer few took him seriously. Even his grades seemed too average to get him a slot in a program at a university and yet he was unwilling to listen to the negativity. He knew that he had a propensity for mathematics and that he had always been fascinated with how things work. He applied to a college that was created for young people like him and eagerly dove into his classes. 

He benefitted from the fact that the university was in a place with little to do beyond taking classes and studying. The tiny town was perfect for keeping his attention focused on learning. He encountered challenging classes that threatened to change his trajectory but he gutted through each of them. After more years that he had expected he finally graduated with a degree in engineering but the fates were not going to be kind. His search for a job came during a downturn in the economy and then Covid hit. He worked but not at the kind of jobs that were worthy of his hard work and his degree. It seemed that in spite of his efforts he would never reach the heights that he knew he was capable of achieving. 

Out of the blue a friend from college called to tell him about an internship program at a small company in a small town. He was not too proud the take the offer even as he realized that he already knew everything they were teaching him. He worked harder than anyone. He was willing to arrive early and stay late. He worked on weekends and even holidays.The senior engineers saw that he was different from the others, more dedicated, more curious. They hired him for a regular engineering position. An older engineer became his mentor. The young man demonstrated that he was willing to work anytime they asked and for as many hours as they needed. They saw the go to attitude that had always been his. They encouraged him to take the exam to become a Professional Engineer. He will soon be trying for that distinction.

He has surpassed peers who at one time appeared to be more likely to succeed. He did it because he never stopped believing in himself. He did it because there was no amount of work that was too much for him. He continues to press toward a destination that he always believed he was capable of achieving. He had a plan and he stuck to it. He worked hard, was always nice and continues to plow on. He knows how its done even when everything seems to be stacked against reaching the destination. He is a success because he saw the road ahead and never stopped moving along. He’s not finished yet.

It’s amazing how much I remember about my father. Even though I was only eight when he died I have been able to piece together my memories of him into a more adult vision of who he was as a person. Perhaps because he was a creature of habit it has been easier to view him with the eyes of reality rather than only the childhood admiration that I had for him.

My father was a young man who faithfully went to work each day to care for his family. Ours was a typical nineteen fifties arrangement in which he brought home the income and my mother kept the home fires burning. We had a good life because he had worked hard to earn a college degree in mechanical engineering, but even I noticed his dissatisfaction with the work he was doing. I am rather certain that he moved from job to job hoping to find a way to use his knowledge meaningfully. Working in the oil and gas business, which was the most common route for mechanical engineers, was not challenging enough for him, nor did it feel like something that would make a difference in the world. The only time I saw him animated about his work was when he spoke about the potential of changing the salt water of the ocean into potable water that might be used for humankind. 

My father had so many talents that I suppose it was difficult for him to decide what he really wanted out of life. He was so incredibly well educated that he was able to discuss literature, history, philosophy, science, mathematics, music, architecture, art and even sports with the knowledge and confidence of an expert. Sometimes I imagine that there were two sides to him the artistic one that played to his greatest joys and the practical one that he used to care for his family. That those two aspects of who was were in conflict seems rather certain to me in retrospect.

Daddy would leave early in the morning and return each evening at a fairly regular hour. He liked to use the time before dinner to wind down from the day’s challenges. He would invariably put one of his favorite classical records on the turntable and then stretch across the living room couch with the evening newspaper or the most recent book that he was devouring. If I or one of my brothers came around vying for his attention he usually gave it to us in the form of lessons on whatever he had just finished reading about. He took adult themes and explained them the way even a little one might comprehend them. I was often exposed to literature that should have been above my understanding but my father nonetheless found ways to make learning so easy. 

My father liked to talk about what was happening in the world at large during dinner. He was never political so I have no idea if he was conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat. Instead he talked in generalizations about current events and often offered what he considered to be sage advice to me and my brothers. Given our young ages I now laugh at his assurance that we were not too young to hear about topics that few of our peers even knew existed. 

He was a forward thinking man who was always bringing in new inventions, new discoveries, new philosophies. We were often the first in our extended family to purchase the latest appliances and cars. I vividly recall when the first television I had ever seen was delivered to our home. It was life changing for all of us and became a nightly way of sharing even more time with my father who was addicted to comedy of every kind. While others might have been watching dramas or variety shows or westerns my father and I caught all of the comedies, at least until it was time for me to go to bed. In retrospect I suppose that I heard some jokes that were a bit above my pay grade as as five, six, seven or eight year old but I was so naive then that I only laughed because my Daddy was filling the air with his chuckles. 

My father had been an outstanding student. I see that even more clearly now than when he was alive. The beauty of sites like Ancestry.com have allowed me to see his junior high and high school yearbooks. In those annuals I realize that he was active in clubs of every sort and even played football for a time. He won the American Legion award in the eighth grade and graduated from high school with honors. He was a perfectionist in his work and in his devotion to our family. 

My father loved to travel and he took me and my brothers all over the United States. He was working on visiting all forty eight of the states that existed before he died. He took photos of me in museums and at historical sites from the time I was an infant in a baby carriage. He was happiest when he was seeing new places and excitedly teaching us about what we had seen. 

Just before my father died he lectured me to do my best in school. I had admittedly slacked off a bit and he had taken note of my lack of attention to my studies. He urged me to set goals and work hard and become the best of myself. He did not lecture. I saw his words as a sign of his love. When he died I became dedicated to carrying out the challenges that came before me. I suppose that I even became a teacher because somehow that is how I saw my father, a loving and exciting teacher who explained so much about the world to me. 

I still feel such a closeness to my father. When I travel I think of how much he would have enjoyed the places that I have visited. When I read a good book I wish I had the opportunity to discuss it with him. When I have to push myself beyond what I think I can do and then succeed I silently thank him for his sage advice. Isn’t it amazing how one person might have so much influence on a child that he lives on for decades as a guiding light. That is my father who lives in me even now. How lucky I have been.