I am often
asked whether I think we humans are, by nature, vicious savages.
Given mankind’s dreary historical record for wars, genocides,
torture, and other organized methods of mutual destruction, are
we destined to be the only species to drive itself to extinction
by mass slaughter? Arthur Koestler posed that question years ago,
suggesting that empowering a killer ape with great intelligence
may have made mankind an evolutionary mistake.
It is easy,
in days such as these, to concur in Koestler’s assessment. Nation-states
war with one another, each seeking more powerful weapons of massive
annihilation with which to not only subdue, but destroy, their
professed adversaries. Politicians and academicians openly defend
the use of torture against suspected members of any group serving
as the enemy du jour; while men and women exhibit a callousness
to the deaths and sufferings even of small children who had the
misfortune of having been born into a society of "thems."
Mankind’s
history has long been a trail marked by blood and broken bodies.
But note the circumstances under which such wholesale butchery
occurs: only when we organize ourselves into groups with which
we identify our sense of being. There are, and always will be,
individuals with sadistic and murderous dispositions, and not
all of them work at the White House or the Pentagon. Contrary
to the tenets of our political conditioning, our protection from
the predations of the random brute is almost always dependent
upon what you and I do to defend ourselves. Police officers –
no matter how well-intended – are almost never able to prevent
acts of victimization. Ask the ghosts of John F. Kennedy and Lee
Harvey Oswald if this is not the case.
When we are
functioning as individuals – whether at work, in the marketplace,
among friends, or driving on the freeways – our behavior toward
one another tends to be peaceful and respectful. Few of us would
be willing to personally inflict, even upon strangers, the brutalities
that so many eagerly cheer on when performed by agents of the
state with which we identify ourselves. We would quickly find
ourselves without friends were we to behave toward them in ways
that emulate Dick Cheney’s or Donald Rumsfeld’s recommended treatment
of Iraqis. How welcome would a Madeleine Albright be in your community
were she to announce that the brutal deaths of neighborhood children
was a price she was willing to pay for the advancement of her
career? How long would you continue working for an employer who
hired Lynndie England as your immediate supervisor?
In one-to-one
dealings with our fellow humans, we have a remarkably good record,
behaving as anarchists (i.e., respecting the inviolability of
the lives and property interests of others, and being responsible
for the consequences of our actions). Virtually all of what you
and I do in our personal lives is contrary to the coercive, violent,
destructive, death-inflicting behavior of political systems. It
is when we remove ourselves from our personal relationships with
others and organize ourselves into abstract entities (e.g., the
nation-state) that we let loose upon the rest of humanity those
"dark side" forces that political systems find it so
easy and profitable to mobilize into destructive campaigns. Our
basic decency as individuals tends to dissolve when we become
members of collective mobs.
Koestler’s
query misconceives the nature of the troublesome human condition.
If we were as disposed to killing our residential neighbors as
we are our worldly ones, his suggestion of a lemming-like self-destructiveness
might be more persuasive. The creative role of intelligence on
the planet might then shift to the more loving and cooperative
nature of dolphins. I have long suspected that the mocking smile
of these creatures reflects their greater understanding of us
than we have of them! Perhaps, like the mammals that
prospered following the extinction of the dinosaurs, the dolphins
are simply awaiting their special turn.
But I am
not prepared to accede to the implications of Koestler’s prognosis.
The respect and loving cooperation that individuals are able to
exhibit even toward total strangers – as reflected in responses
to the devastation of New Orleans or the Asian tsunami – affords
a more optimistic picture. Perhaps an awareness of the broader
consequences of our genetic selfishness – to borrow from Richard
Dawkins – will allow us to understand how our common interests
are a coalescence of our individual interests; that what
we share with one another is the need to protect our inviolability.
The state
depends for its existence upon division and its ensuing conflict.
It would not long survive in an atmosphere in which people understood
their common interest in respecting one another’s being. State
schools exist for the purpose of conditioning people to accept
the nation-state as the source of their personal identities; to
get them to believe that their interests and the interests
of the state are identical; and that other systems represent
hostile forces to be opposed through the coercive arm of the state.
Students learn to recite daily catechisms of allegiance to the
state, and to inculcate their duties of obedience to constituted
authorities. In the words of Ivan Illich, "school is the
advertising agency which makes you believe that you need the society
as it is."
Through years
of such conditioning, most of us have learned to see the world
as an inherently dangerous and destructive place; seeing ourselves
– in Housman’s phrase – as "a stranger and afraid, in a world
I never made;" and embracing vertically-structured organizations,
with their top-down authority, as the only safe and effective
model for social systems. This is why our children - awash in
the depictions of nobility and adventure painted by the statists
– become such eager victims of a war system that more experienced
adults know to be grounded in lies.
Perhaps all
of this is changing, and we are not fated, like our lemming cousins,
to destroy ourselves in collective and frenzied stampedes to foreign
beaches. As our decentralized information systems continue their
exponential growth, we seem to be discovering an increased awareness
of the destructive nature of the state with its mechanisms of
centralized power. In addition to its "dark side" influences,
our unconscious minds also have intuitive, emotional voices that
warn us of impending dangers of which our conscious minds may
be unaware. The processes of decentralization, in other words,
may also be at work within our minds, producing what Carl Jung
characterized as "individuation," (i.e., the acceptance
of our "dark side" and consequent withdrawal of such
energies from collective forces).
There are
subconscious forces at work upon our lives whose hidden energies
often appear as precursors to social changes. One such example
was Rosa Parks, who has been credited with "starting"
the civil rights movement in the late 1950s. Her refusal to move
to the back of a bus was not so much the cause of this
movement, as it was a bifurcation point – to borrow a phrase from
the study of chaos – that unleashed a great deal of pre-existing
energy. Similar forces are, I believe, at work in our present
world. Cindy Sheehan’s success in challenging the Iraq war has
occurred because she tapped into an energy field of people who
resent the sacrifice of their children to the war machine. Widespread
reaction to the U.S. Supreme Court’s recent Kelo decision
– upholding the power of states to condemn privately-owned land
for transfer to other private owners (a practice that has long
preceded this case) – has aroused the sentiment "we do not
want our property taken by the state."
Likewise,
the anti-globalization demonstrations throughout the world may
represent more than just some pent-up socialist or neo-Luddite
hostility to free markets and industrialization. They may also
reflect a concern that the corporate-state political systems housed
within nation-states are being redesigned for a world government
to enforce a universal, destructive, institutional will upon all
of mankind.
What if,
in other words, these influences are coalescing to express the
latent message: we are tired of you taking the lives of our children;
we are tired of you taking our property; and we are tired of you
taking our liberty? What if that is the message state authorities
are hearing, but do not want you to hear? What if a life force
is permeating upwards through the collective unconscious of mankind
to confront its destructive nemesis, the state, with a message
that says no more than this: "enough!" What if such
hidden energies are proving so powerful that the state has had
to resort to lies, fears, and violence to shore up, by the most
forceful means available to it, the foundations of a repressive
structure crumbling before decentralizing systems?
Our dispositions
toward our neighbors tend to be peaceful, cooperative, and respectful,
at least as long as we regard them as neighbors, rather than as
abstractions defined for us, by state authorities, as our "enemies."
The capacity to recognize – and to act upon – such distinctions
lies within the mind of each of us, if we will but take the responsibility
to do so, and to understand the consequences if we do not.
If
we are prepared to explore our own thinking, and to follow the
movement of our own thought, we may be able to transcend our institutionalized
conditioning by discovering that, because "war is the health
of the state," our best strategy for survival – both as individuals
and as a species – is to never allow ourselves to become politically
organized.