Why We Love War
(Page 2 of 7)
January / February 2003
By Lawrence LeShan, Adapted from The Psychology of War: Comprehending its Mystique and Madness
Today, no single theory on the cause of war is generally accepted. There’s been a lot of discussion about using our knowledge of psychology, sociology, and other social sciences to prevent war. Much has been done on techniques—such as intercultural student exchange, international organizations, international mediation efforts, and armament reduction—for reducing war’s likelihood. But there appears to be a great reluctance to deal with general theories about the cause of war—or even to admit such theories are necessary.
RELATED CONTENT
Why I Love My 'School' July 24, 2000 Leif Utne Why I Love My 'School,' Greg King,
BRAT...
Pro Lomo February 17, 2003 Issue By Jules Head, Shift.com Members of the photography art scene yea...
Parting Words for Hilary Rosen February 7, 2003 Issue By Mark Moyes, Shift.com In a recent article...
The Science of Love December 16, 2002 Issue By Nick Garafola, Utne Author Cary Parker asks the que...
Before we can find new ways to prevent war, we have to understand why it is so popular. War at least promises to fulfill some fundamental human need or tension. One central human tension is the problem of how to be both an individual and a part of the larger group. Many of the great literary works explore this theme, dealing over and over with how we try to reconcile these conflicting drives. The same issue runs through modern textbooks on psychology, sociology, and anthropology. On the one hand is the drive to be more and more unique and individual, to heighten one’s experience and being. On the other hand is the drive to be a part of something larger, a full-fledged member of the tribe.
There are two different means to satisfy these drives simultaneously and without contradiction. Both appear in every age and nearly every culture. The first involves turning to one of the schools of esoteric or spiritual development, including Zen, Sufism, and the Christian, Hindu, and Jewish forms of mysticism. These schools agree that there are two ways of “being-in-the-world.” In what is generally called “The Way of the Many,” we view ourselves as separate and individual. In “The Way of the One,” we are seen as part of the total cosmos; nothing within it, including ourselves, is separate from anything else.
According to these traditions, humans have what the Roman mystic Plotinus called an “amphibious nature” and must integrate both views if we are to survive, let alone reach our full potential. All such schools espouse various meditative techniques as a means for achieving this integration. Meditation can sharpen our perception, heighten a sense of self, and increase a sense of individual being. It can also lead to a more profound sense of oneness with all existence. The schools insist there is no contradiction here. The problem is that the meditative path is too lengthy and difficult for most people. Though it promises—and apparently often delivers—a solution to this basic human tension, its historical influence has been small.
Historically, there is a second means of resolving this tension between our conflicting needs for singularity and group identification: war. Tolstoy described its effect in War and Peace: “Every general and every soldier was conscious of his own insignificance, aware of being but a drop in that ocean of men, and yet at the same time was conscious of his strength as a part of that enormous whole.” Again and again, descriptions of war by experienced participants and by great artists (and Tolstoy was both) demonstrate that it fulfills these fundamental needs. War sharpens experience, heightens perception, and makes one more and more aware of one’s own existence. At the same time, war allows us to become part of something larger and more intense. The Way of the One and the Way of the Many intensify each other.
Page:
<< Previous 1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
Next >>