Edelweiss

A few months ago my wife and I were visiting our daughter, son-in-law, and five grandchildren in Jerusalem. It was Hanukkah, and on the last day we went out “caroling.” We had enough people in our little group to sing four part harmonies and, since we knew them, we did so. One of my grandsons, our lead soprano, pointed out that the Hanukkah song, Maoz Tsur, fit perfectly into the music of Edelweiss, so that was one of the things we sang. As we wandered through the streets, groups of tourists stopped to listen as did the local residents, and we were offered food and even invited into a party. It was a lot of fun. But I went no further in arranging the song because of copyright considerations. I wasn't about to break the law, even if it would result in something positive. I wrote about that recently in an entirely different context from what I have in mind now.ⁱ

This time, thoughts about the caroling and the essay came back as I digested the news of Whitney Houston's recent death. In the earlier piece I had considered use of illegally obtained informationⁱⁱ and the question of right and wrong. In regard to Ms. Houston a related question came up now, but from a different perspective. It was a matter of the people who were, perhaps, to be written off, not the information I had discussed before. I wrestled then with the ethics of society, or its individual members, benefiting from acts that were, in many cases, morally “wrong.” Now I considered the way we react to great people who suffer from what many view as moral “wrongs.”

I recall the time when it was a daring act to perform the works of Richard Wagner in Israel. His anti-semitic bent and popularity with Hitler made him anathema with Israelis. And Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice was also censured because it is considered by many to be the most anti-semitic play ever to receive wide circulation. It is not my intent to compare Whitney Houston to either Wagner or Shakespeare, but it is hard to ignore the difficulty we have with the acceptance of the idea that great works may be achieved by damaged people. Or, at least, by people whom many consider damaged.

Were Noël Coward, Cole Porter, and Oscar Wilde any the less creative because they were homosexual? Was Herbert von Karajan a less talented conductor because he was a member of the Nazi Party? Thomas Aquinas, Paracelsus, and Isaac Newton were alchemists, but that doesn't lessen the impact of their work. And how many famous and powerful people were adulterers, or engaged in other acts that are condemned by society?

Whitney Houston was a drug addict. Her dependence on drugs, legal and illegal, was well known and, from time to time, she received treatment for it. But addiction is not curable, even if its manifestations may be hidden or even suppressed. Some can avoid the triggers, but those who depend on artificial substances in order to achieve their goals or to live with them are never free of the potential to do so again. To paraphrase Gertrude Stein, addict is an addict is an addict.

That was the case with Billie Holiday, John Beluschi, Amy Winehouse, and Elvis Presley, who were addicted to both legal and illegal drugs. And among the many other drug users were Judy Garland, Janis Joplin, Lenny Bruce and Ray Charles. Nonetheless, however, they were among our greats. As were Sigmund Freud, Lewis Carroll, and Arthur Conan Doyle. Do mind-altering drugs contribute to creativity? Should the use of what we now consider illegal drugs be legalized? Is prohibition a wise option? These are not questions that are to be answered today. They're far too complex and they are tangential to the main issue.

What we really have to consider, at a time when Whitney Houston and the tributes to her are major news items, is the way we react to her life and death. It's easy to join in those tributes, but it is also easy to wonder what their message is. Does greatness excuse illegal behavior? Is the prohibition of certain materials an impingement on liberty and a “sickness” of society rather than a protection of the individual? It's hard not notice that society's rules change periodically and that different societies have different rules.

Bottom line. Perhaps what Gandhiⁱⁱⁱ said “Hate the sin and not the sinner," makes the most sense. As we lionize those who have enriched our lives, we cannot ignore the fact that we are making those people into role models for our children. We're teaching them. An unalloyed burnish we might apply to the image of our heroes could be interpreted as acceptance, if not endorsement, of their faults as well as their triumphs. Better to condemn clearly the characteristics we don't accept – those we would want our children to reject – while praising their accomplishments. Those we honor are, like us, fallible human beings. That doesn't diminish them in any way. But along with the approval it makes them human. What greater compliment can we offer?

i     Soothing The Savage Beast. February 12, 2012.

ii    And, in fact, any benefits that might accrue from an impermissible act.

iii   Possibly based on the words of St. Augustine.