A Dignitarian Alternative to War
A century ago, the American psychologist William James famously called for a "moral equivalent to war," and people have been trying to come up with a better "game" ever since. So spellbound are we by war's glories and horrors, we fail to notice that it performs an important, if amoral, function. War can deliver an entire people to an open fluid place wherein they become capable of changing direction and embarking on a new course. For "losers" this can mean a fresh start, for "victors" an affirmation of their collective identity. This applies not only to the soldiers who do the fighting but also to those who stay behind and are thrust into new roles. For example, World War II transformed the lives of women, as was symbolized by Rosie the Riveter.
War and tribalism--or nationalism, its modern-day counterpart--have gone hand in hand precisely because the tribe--or nation--is the locus of our group identity and the battlefield is where it has historically been forged or shattered. The guilty knowledge that physical combat has been an instrument of identity transformation has surely been a barrier to finding a viable alternative to it. That is the reason for the deep ambivalence we feel toward war. We speak openly of our hatred for battle but hide our fascination with it. When we are not actually at war, it often lurks in our imaginations as an enticing adventure. To end our dependence on war as a means of affirming or changing identity, we need to find a dignitarian alternative for accomplishing the vital task of periodic social transformation.
Not long after James's call for a moral equivalent to war, H. G.Wells unknowingly answered it with a statement destined to become equally famous: "Human history becomes more and more a race between education and catastrophe." To see war as a problem whose solution is education was prescient at the time. But education--at least the kind available during the twentieth century--did not keep us from going to battle.
What sort of learning might accomplish this critical goal? I believe that, paradoxically, it is the very skill that has, via technological development, made war so dangerous; the moral equivalent of war can be found in the conscious, dedicated pursuit of model building.
At first glance, this might seem too cerebral an activity to compete with the guts and glory of war. A closer examination, however, reveals that model building undercuts our dependence on war in three ways. William James couldn't realize this because in his time modeling was considered applicable only to nature, and the self was held to be something apart from nature.
For starters, model building develops and facilitates the capacity to change our minds, to replace one belief system with another, to transform our understanding of the world, and to evolve new personal and group identities. While we have relied on violence to achieve these tasks in the past, contemporary model-building skills afford us an alternative that is at once less destructive and more precise. Modeling goes to the very crux of identity formation and reformation, and it does so without destruction of property or loss of life.
Once we give up the notion that we are our personas,we can let them do battle in our stead rather than putting our lives on the line. Our ideas and beliefs can be sent into "combat" and defended to their death, not ours. The ultimate deterrent to war is not the threat of retaliation, but the availability to both sides of more cost-effective methods of self and group transformation. (The situation that arises when one party to a conflict absolutely insists on settling it with brute force is the subject of the next section, "What About Bad Guys?")
Second, there is the richness, excitement, and fulfillment that we experience in exercising our model-building skills. It's not hard to imagine the exhilaration that must have accompanied modeling and then constructing the first airplane, nuclear reactor, or computer. Less obvious is the fact that the satisfactions of model building do not depend on resultant fame. What brings genuine satisfaction is the ongoing pursuit of our own interests, contributing the fruits of our labors, and acknowledgment of those contributions.
People involved in model building, no matter what the field, are less susceptible to the drumbeat of war because they are already fully engaged. They are immune to demagogic calls to battle because their personal quests feel as heroic and noble to them as any military undertaking. In the past, when many were stuck in routine lives devoid of excitement, going to war could seem like an adventure. But as model building, in all its captivating varieties, is practiced in ever increasing numbers, it will act as a vaccine that confers partial immunity to martial seductions.
Finally, model building can be applied to the very political contradictions that in the past have triggered violent conflict. A team of model builders--people who have traditionally been called diplomats, mediators, or negotiators--can be assigned the task of coming up with a metamodel that embraces and resolves the competing positions of potential adversaries. Such comprehensive models allow for change--not only of one's own mind and of the opponent's, but also of the world--without resort to war.
Faith in the belief that a unifying model can be found is analogous to faith in the existence of one God. Monotheism is the theological counterpart of the model builder's belief in the ultimate reconcilability of apparently contradictory observations, or positions, into a single, self-consistent framework. In this setting, the proverb "God is love" testifies to the belief that there exists a unitary framework in which apparently contradictory, antagonistic pieces of the whole can nonetheless be brought into harmony. Model building, like love, is inclusive and unifying. This goes to the heart of why it is such a valuable tool in building a dignitarian world. Not only can we use it to anticipate indignities, but the end product--a synthesizing model--reveals everyone's contribution to the whole. Wrote English novelist John Fowles:
"I'm still defeated by the conundrum of God. But I have the devil clear."
"And what's he?"
"Not seeing whole."
With the advent of a dignitarian world, humankind will set war aside like children putting away their toy soldiers for the last time. We will honor all those who fought for us as we now honor pioneers and explorers. They were pushing into the unknown on our behalf, in the only way we knew how at the time. But now we have a better way--one that will spare the men and women at the front from having to make the ultimate personal sacrifice in our collective quest for truth.
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