Thoughts On Chomsky Vs. Harris: Intentions and Body Count

American military intentions aren’t as peachy as they may seem.

I finally got around to reading the lengthy email exchange between Noam Chomsky, one of the greatest intellectuals of our time, and New Atheist Sam Harris. It’s a very compelling read (although a bit heavy on the ad hominem side) and delves into some fascinating ethical questions about foreign policy.

Sam Harris (left) and Noam Chomsky (right)

Throughout the conversation, Harris repeatedly cites the wildly different intentions of the US military and those of Islamic terrorist groups as a quasi-justification of, among other actions, the American bombing of the al-Shifa pharmaceutical factory in Sudan, the aftermath of which killed tens of thousands of innocent people. Chomsky disagrees, contending that American intentions are not always good by definition — sometimes even worse than those of our enemies — and that the reality is much more nuanced than “well-intentioned giants” seeking the “perfect weapon” to avoid civilian casualties.

As someone who greatly admires the intellect of both individuals, I began reading with an open mind and a moldable perspective.

Harris’ opening argument was his strongest. If the script were flipped and Al Qaeda were given a $600 billion military budget and over 4,000 nuclear warheads, he argues, the world would end in a split second. As gruesome as the US’ foreign policy is, a team of Islamist fundamentalists with the might of the American military behind them would not just be a greater evil, but off the spectrum entirely. Argues Harris, if American neoconservatives like George Bush were given the “perfect weapon,” if such a thing ever existed, they would not have “sanctioned the death or injury of even a single innocent person,” whereas ISIS would strive for the polar opposite.

Harris is largely correct here. Explicitly vouching for murder is different than indirectly, and often inadvertently, leading to it. Objectively, there are better thoughts and worse thoughts, which Harris often points out as the distinguishing factor between Jainism (whose main doctrine is peace) and Islam (where 72% of Indonesians, often cited as the pioneers of moderate Islam, told Pew that they condoned Sharia law). Intentions matter.

But here’s what Harris misses: Chomsky already knows this. In fact, it’s his entire point: intentions matter, but ours are not by definition altruistic.

Chomsky cites a comprehensive list of examples of American foreign policy atrocities — genocidal sanctions in Iraq, aiding Turkey’s onslaught against the Kurds, and giving oil to Haitian juntas. Chomsky explains that the rationale of these violent acts is not as peachy as Harris makes them out to be. While they may not explicitly represent cold-blooded murder, they involve something equally, if not more, appalling: carelessness, or in Chomsky’s words, “killing ants.”

Chomsky classifies the al-Shifa bombing under the “carelessness” category; Clinton knew the human consequences well but valued revenge and retribution over basic morality. Writes Chomsky, “Clinton bombed al-Shifa in reaction to the Embassy bombings, having discovered no credible evidence in the brief interim of course, and knowing full well that there would be enormous casualties.” It wasn’t cold-blooded murder, but it was apathy — apathy that killed thousands.

This carelessness is largely a result of the fact that the American military tends to prioritize political alliances and economic pursuits more than morals and utilitarian good. Political alliances — not compassion — drove us to maintain ties with Turkey by, as Chomsky cited, funding their military rampages against the Kurds. Neoliberal pursuits of American multinational corporations — not morality — drove us to force capitalism on Haiti by overthrowing liberation theologist Aristide, another example Chomsky mentioned.

If we truly valued human life over economic alliances, why would we continue to pump billions of taxpayer dollars into Saudi Arabia as they ceaselessly bomb innocent Yemeni Houthis, leading to over 10,000 civilian casualties? If we really cared about democracy and humanity more than corporate interests, would we really overthrow democratically-elected Allende for Pinochet, a ruthless dictator? If we wanted the best for Iraq and oil played no factor, would we truly massacre countless innocents and lead to the rise of ISIS in the way that we did?

Harris has no answer for these questions. They don’t apply to his utopian scenario of good vs. evil. In short, his overly simplistic theory of the US being a “well-intentioned giant” looks good on paper and in theoretical discussions, but falls flat in the nuances and complex motives of the real world.

Saudi Arabia uses American weapons to kill thousands of innocent people in Yemen.

These muddled intentions are the fundamental reason that Harris’ ultimately nationalistic view of the US is historically inaccurate. But so long as we’re in the realm of hypotheticals, let’s assume that what he’s saying is correct. Let’s pretend that all seven interventions we’re currently involved in were born out of empathy, ethics, and reason.

Even in this utopian world, our actions would still deserve outrage. Even if our involvement in Syria were solely to defend innocent victims of Assad’s bombing campaigns (which is likely an incomplete story), our actions would not be automatically respectable, as Harris would have you believe. Sans carelessness, sans economic motives, and sans geopolitical rationales, we are still causing, arguably, more harm than good in Syria by arming Al Nusra and ISIS, terrorist groups that are the only thing in the region that’s less humanitarian than Assad. It wouldn’t take much to convince me that these terrorist armings are inadvertent and unintentional, but they are unavoidable consequences of intervening in a complex, multi-sided war. Simply put, good intentions don’t automatically rule out foolish decisions, and war is eternally bound to them.

And that’s an indictment of our system. Those in the “it was a mistake born out of good intent, therefore it requires no condemnation” camp should flip back to Chapter One and examine the decision to go to war itself. What they’ll find is that the United States has once again failed to learn from its past mistakes in Vietnam, Latin America, Iraq, and Afghanistan — that American presence doesn’t make things better by definition, and that heightened interventionism, with very few exceptions, makes most situations worse.

Even if our sole mission in Pakistan, say, is to contain the rise of terrorism, the use of drones is still unwarranted, because, despite our best intentions, we should have known better. We should have recognized that each killed terrorist radicalizes another and that, across the Middle East, nearly 90% of the drone death toll belongs to civilians, a far too heavy price to pay. If our intentions are objectively good and we still knowingly make death-tolling air raids, are we to be commended? The answer is clearly no.

Our drone program has been an abysmal failure.

There’s a recurring theme in nearly all of Harris’ ideas: they sound enlightening in theory, but are way off the mark in practice. His critique of radical Islam is brilliant, but when converted into policy, intervention and war abroad have been counter-productive, wasteful, and murderous. His focus on intentions is enticing, but in practice, militarily supporting Israel for its democratic electoral system makes the prospects of a peace deal radically worse by expanding illegal occupation and killing large amounts of civilians. Hypercriticism of bad intentions without the mention of body count is enticing at the dinner table, but when it comes to the Congressional floor, it morphs into a dangerous strand of nationalism and American Exceptionalism.

Which brings us to the question: which of the following should Americans use the majority of their energy condemning — Islamic terrorism or our own military? Well, that’s for you to decide. But here’s a perspective to consider:

Harris is completely right that bad ideas deserve more criticism when presented as an issue-by-issue comparison, but the most effective and sophisticated approach by far is Chomsky’s notion of self-criticism. Not only is it more effective (as the average American has much more sway over their own military than they do ISIS), but it is morally right. In switching our focus from the obviously-hateable and unanimously-detested threat of terrorism to taking an introspective, critical look at our comparatively well-respected military-industrial complex, which spends our own tax money overseas on lethal results, we approach a more sophisticated point of view. It’s easy to criticize ISIS, but the true moral high ground is to criticize the greater power, the greater wrongdoer, and the more ethically advanced institution.

As Reza Aslan said on Real Time with Bill Maher,