19 April 2007


I think that Hilzoy's long essay Liberating Iraq has made me categorically more pacifist than I was before I read it.

This is another one of those posts where I'm giving you a long quote, but do so in hopes of whetting readers' appetites to go read the whole thing. The essay is a marvel.

Back in 1983, I sat in on a conference on women and social change. There were fascinating people from all over the world, women who had been doing extraordinary things in their own countries, and who had gathered together to talk it through; and I got to be a fly on the wall.

During this conference, there was a recurring disagreement about the role of violence in fighting deeply unjust regimes. On one side were the women from India, who argued against the use of violence, generally on Gandhian grounds. On the other were many of the women who lived under deeply unjust regimes; I recall, in particular, the South Africans arguing that however laudable nonviolence might be, their situation was sufficiently desperate that they could not afford the luxury of waiting for nonviolence to work.

It seemed to me that at the heart of this disagreement was this one fact: that the women from India were from a country that had already achieved independence, and were living with the problems that came afterwards, whereas the women from South Africa were trying to achieve that self-government in the first place. The South Africans seemed to think that the women from India had forgotten what it was like to be subjugated. We need to win our freedom as quickly as possible, they seemed to say. We realize that it would be preferable to win that freedom in the best possible way. If we could win it just as quickly through non-violent means, we would surely do so. But you would not ask us to wait if you really understood what it is like to live in slavery.

By contrast, many of the arguments made by the Indians turned on the effects that achieving self-government through violence had on one's own people.


So one thing I thought that the Indian women saw was this:

Violence is not a way of getting where you want to go, only more quickly. Its existence changes your destination. If you use it, you had better be prepared to find yourself in the kind of place it takes you to.

And another was this: liberation is not just a matter of removing an oppressive government. It can seem that way when you live under tyranny. Nothing is more comprehensible than people living in apartheid South Africa, or under Saddam, thinking: if only that government were removed from power, things would be better. They would have to be. After all, how could they possibly be worse?

Unfortunately, there are almost always ways in which things could be worse.

Hilzoy says this in support of criticizing the naïvité of disillusioned Iraq war hawk Peter Beinart.

I admire Peter Beinart's willingness to think about what he got wrong, and why. But while I think that he's right to say that we can't be the country the Iraqis and South Africans wanted us to be—a country wise enough to liberate other countries by force—there's another mistake lurking in the train of thought he describes. Namely:

It's not just that we aren't the country Beinart wanted to think we were; it's that war is not the instrument he thought it was.

Just so. There are cases where war really is the best option available. But those cases are precious few, and when they come, you are already in deep deep trouble.


T. Thorn Coyle said...

War is double plus not good. But you already read my post about it today.


Jonathan Korman said...

Aye. As I quoted Hilzoy saying earlier, war ain't the worst thing in the world, but it's pretty damned close.

Anne Hill said...

I'm interested lately in all the ways we can fold non-violence into whatever actions we take, and how it becomes akin to harm reduction in a sense. My favorite current example of this is Tom Gambell sensei of East Bay Aikido, who talks about finding "the grassy spot." I may have to do something in self defense to stop a person who is trying to hurt me. I may have to throw him down somewhere. When that moment arrives, and if there's a choice between throwing him on some broken glass or a grassy spot, I choose the grassy spot.

It's that sense of control that is the first thing to go out the window when we choose to react in violence. This is what I hear you saying as well. I'll admit it: that pile of broken glass looks like a good target if I'm sufficiently pissed off. Training ourselves to step back from that edge and only do what is necessary takes a lot of practice.