"I
am frequently asked whether I believe in 'blind obedience' to orders
from legitimate authority, the code that permitted many Germans to carry
out genocide. I do not. While there is a presumption of regularity that
must obtain in any orders from legitimate superiors without which no
government could function, I believe in individual responsibility, free
will, and the rule of reason. There is a point beyond which I will not
go, and that is anything my conscience tells me is malum in se
(evil in and of itself) or my judgment tells me is irrational. I have no
problem with doing something that is malum prohibitum (wrong only
because of the existence of a law prohibiting it)
"An example of malum in se
would be the sexual assault of a child. In every society such a thing
would be recognized as wrong. It would require no act of legislature
forbidding it to inform people that it was wrong. An example of malum
prohibitum, on the other hand, would be the statute prohibiting
driving through a stop sign without coming to a complete halt. Absent
such a law, to do so would be a morally indifferent act."
— It was around Thanksgiving, early
80s, when I first read Will, and I remember my uncle (Dad's
brother) asking me over dinner what the appeal to me was in something
written by one of the most notorious of the so-called Watergate
burglars.
It was not just that he "believed" so
deeply in something that he did. A lot of people pay such words lip
service. Rather, it was that he believed so absolutely that he not only
acted completely, but then freely stood up to pay whatever consequences
came of those acts.
In this quote, he solidly states that
there are laws higher than man's — the most terrorizing statement of all
to small men who demand blind obedience "just because," I have found.
I met Mr. Liddy not too long after he
wrote Will, after an appearance he made here at The University of
Michigan, debating Timothy Leary. To this day, his handshake remains one
of the most memorable of my life. Imagine putting your hand into a
mechanically-operated screw-vise; with just that sort of precision
feeling, his grip seemed to move together, stop at an exact set point,
hold, then reverse in seamless motion.
When asked, he graciously showed me
the scar on his hand where he'd held his hand in a flame until the skin
burned (the test of "will" for which his autobiography is titled).
And he signed my copy of his book, as
shown above.
