e people of Le Chambon are an extraordinary, and perhaps everlasting, reminder of just how much good can be done when a group of people collectively stand up to evil.  What we often overlook however is (1) the strength that their unity gave to them.  In a very real sense the collective whole was greater than the sum of the individual parts.  What is equally important, however, is (2) the conception of the self that made this unity possible had been forged at the very outset of their lives—and not, as we say, in the heat of the moral moment.  And this truth harkens back to Plato and Aristotle. 

While I have discussed Le Chambon on numerous occasions, I think I offer in what follows some remarks that advance the discussion. 

Beginning with point (1): In roughly same way in which one person simply cannot produce the sound and harmony of a 100 voice choir, no matter mellifluous that individual’s voice may be, no single individual can present a united front in the way that an entire town can.  And whether we like it or not, nothing vanquishes evil like a united front.

Often enough, there is at least one weak-link in the chain; and that one weak-link suffices to give evil enormous leverage.  Because if one can get at one, then it easy enough to use that one to cause fear and pandemonium among the others.  What is particularly interesting in the Le Chambon case is that the people of Le Chambon put everything on the line—including their families, and so their own children and spouses. 

We often talk about the people of Le Chambon as if all of these individuals were mere adults without families. 

These brings the discussion to a most important question: Is it the case, at least in some instances, that our commitment to do the right thing falls shiort the mark unless we are prepared to put everything on the line for it?  If there is one excuse more than any other which people think absolves them from extending themselves to do what is right on behalf of another, it is that doing so would put their children at risk. 

Person A: Why didn’t you stop the murder that what was taking place?

Person B: Because I Ithought that if I opened door, then person the might attack my children instead.

Suffice it to say that there would not have been a Le Chambon as we now celebrate it had the denizens of Le Chambon adopted the Person B mentality.

This brings me to point (2), namely that the conception of the self that made this unity possible had been forged at the very outset of their lives—and not, as we say, in the heat of the moral moment.  As I noted at the outset, this truth harkens back to Plato and Aristotle. 

The question, though, is: What does (2) entail?  Is it really possible to teach one’s children that killing people in a Hitler-like manner is a most deplorable and heinous wrong if one does nothing whatsoever to prevent such killings?  The answer has to be given a resounding no, if indeed it is the case that our actions are the best indication available of our sincerity.  It is this insight that people of Le Chambon grasped: Either they really believed that Hitler-like killings are wrong, in which case they needed to do something about those killing or they needed to keep their mouths shut.  The former option unequivocally made being moral a family affair.

Given the former approach, there were essentiall two outcomes.  One is that all would perish, in which case there would no one left to lament anything..  The other is that all would live to behold a most extraordinary—nay, an absolutely unimaginable—victory.  In this case, however, the children would be the beneficiary of one the most incredible moral lessons that any group of parents could ever teach their children.  If there is a Platonic form to parents modeling moral behavior before their children, the parents of Le Chambon were more like gods than mere mortels participating in that Platonic form.  What the people of Le Chambon puts on an entirely different plane the idea that nothing is gained if nothing is risked risked.  

The people of Le Chambon modeled before their children and with their children a moral excellence that put their children at risk.  It was either do that or not do much of anything at all.

It is next to impossible not to wonder why Hitler’s armies did not simply destroy Le Chambon.  I wonder if the answer was simply that he saw that, even if it meant putting their children at risk, the people of Le Chambon were prepared to do all that they possibly could to save Jews.  Moral resolve does not get any greater and more commanding than that.  Indeed, it is the kind of moral resolve could very well have undercut the will of Hitler’s very own men.  For there was a story—albeit a very distorted one—about Jews being evil of which Hitler’s soldier could avail themselves.  That story would not work against the people of Le Chambon.  And Hitler could very well have thought that it not worth having his men see that level of courage on the part of people who opposed him—a level of courage that could very well have resulted in his soldiers questioning their own commitment to Nazism.   

When we are the business of having people do evil for us, the very last thing that we want are individuals who by their very courage can be a catalyst to our agents of evil questioning their own commitment to being evil. 

On the account offered the people of Le Chambon by standing in unshakable unity did what France and Poland and England and so on could not do.  By doing what was right in unshakable unison they got  Hitler’s army to look the other way.  Normally, it is the other way around: People look the other way while individuals are doing what is wrong.  The people of Le Chambon turned that idea on its head.  On the account offered here, it turns out that in the most unsuspecting of ways, the people of Le Chambon proved to be a most formidable match for Hitler's army.  Here we have moral health and psychological health marching in perfect harmony with one another.

Of course, none of this is an answer to my question: Are there some forms of rightful behavior that people should be willing to do even if it means putting their spouses and, especially, their children on the line?  Suffice it to say for the moment, though, that at the very least the people of Le Chambon should give us pause if we think it obvious that this question should be answered with a resounding “No”.