on “the moral equivalent of war” by William James
September 15, 2020
(A brief essay reflection on James’ brief 1906 essay. Read an abridged version of his essay. Here’s the full text.)
Entertaining the memory of his brothers who served in America’s fraternal bloodbath, on the eve of the impending Great War, William James spoke on pacifism at Stanford University. This speech—as far as I’ve seen—is underexposed and under-appreciated. In “The Moral Equivalent of War,” James proposes a pacifistic alternative to the moral virtues furnished by war and martial conflict. Namely, James’ alternative is “conscription of the whole youthful population” as an army to serve in “the immemorial human warfare against nature.” Practically, James’ logic led to institutions such as the Peace Corps. It’s apparent his rationale still floats beneath the surface when proposals like the Green New Deal still surface. I’m more interested, however, in the practical reasonableness of James’ logic for cultivating peacefulness. Some quick, casual deconstruction and re-staging of ideas is necessary to recast this whimsical turn-of-the-century speech into something with serious traction in the contemporary political climate.
Just a couple contextual stepping stones, and then the payoff.
First, James leans heavily on a male portrait of the army. His words, as a result, are saturated with machismo. The underlying social logic, however, need not preclude a more egalitarian reading. Second, there now exists a starkly different relationship between war and peace. Contemporary peoples no longer have the luxury of clear distinction between war and peace, “war-time” and “peace-time.” James is critical of the militarists of his day who enthusiastically cultivated anticipation of an inevitable future conflict. Now—instead of anticipation of an inevitable future conflict—the expectation of perpetual militarism has been laundered into our household impression of the state. Our present climate does not undermine the import of James’ central point. These virtues—”intrepidity, contempt of softness, surrender of private interest, obedience to command”—still search for a martial outlet. Which brings me to my third and final re-staging unveiling the central plot: why and how we must still wrestle with James “moral equivalent for war.”
Despite the absence of a clear foe, an obvious other, it is apparent to me that modern political subject has no hesitations seeing their fellow citizen as a “red under the bed,” or “the enemy on the inside.” This is accelerated by the continued siloing of political affect spheres. Instead of James’ thrill-seeking war-mongers, instead of Teddy Roosevelt’s boyish Rough Riders, the impending American expression of violent conflict is frighteningly close to home. Now simmering over, from the generation long cultivation of fear of our neighbors and fellow citizens, some kind of mutant political lupus takes hold in which our own communities become the stage for excercising our martial virtues.
The future is bleak. Pessimism is too weak a word. The voting booth is a feckless divergence of two paths on the same trajectory. I see no roads forward where America avoids escalating waves of insurgent violence. The violence will be a self-prophesying feeding frenzy for the media and party demagogues. Both parties will backhandedly rationalize their constituents’ militancy as a response to some deviant slight they attribute to the other (party). I write this as if it’s not already happening.
Yet, why does violence thrill us? Why does war have the power give us higher cause? Journalist Chris Hedges put it in the right terms: “war is a force that gives us meaning.” Lacking any sufficient cause which clearly effects the bettering of our day to day existence—read: lacking meaning—humans, it seems, always possess the capacity to regress to violence. In order to express ourselves violently, we require a blame-worthy object responsible for the lack. Call it the other. Call it the enemy. Must the role of our enemy be cast as some agential oppressor toward which we can express only our frustration through destructive violence? Progressive political rhetoric must reconceptualize the other as that which we confront materially—in flesh and blood, lacking no ounce of martial virtue—but constructively, rather than destructively. Only in this way can the site of political organization open up from vapid identity narratives into a new space of common struggle. On this point, James is right: if we need an enemy why not hunger? Oppression and dispossession? Why not illness? Untimely death?
When Coronavirus was declared “the invisible enemy,” it grew legs for all the wrong reasons. It could have united the public against a threat that, though invisible, was material in nature. A threat of this kind could inspire bipartisan action against the threat itself, putting these martial instincts into expanding healthcare capacity, reevaluating infrastructure, etc. For a split-second—and for many on the front lines—it did and still is.
Rather, it was contorted into a grotesque political feint: we were put at arms against an imperceptible threat. Then, by sleight-of-hand, the threat was transposed back onto the neighbors complicit in whichever enemy ideology manifests our individual persecution.
The role of the “invisible enemy on the inside” was quickly recast. It was no longer coronavirus itself, but the brain-washed liberal mask-wearer who is complicit in the big government, globalist, material oppression of our basic livelihoods; or, the conspiratorial right-wing populist who cluelessly threatens our basic health and sullies American dignity on the world stage. If the state of social affairs benefits neither you nor your neighbor who does it benefit? A divided constituency is ideal for preservation of the status quo. The division of a populace is always in the best interest of the ruling class. So let us call a spade, a spade: our neighbor is our neighbor. Our neighbor is not our enemy. Our enemy is certainly not the brother who simply disagrees on how we oppose our common enemy. Let enemies be our enemies, brothers be brothers and sisters, sisters.
And for God’s sake—if you think your politics are worth dying for ask: “did I get this from the same place as that fudge brownie recipe?” Then, buy a book and read it. (Or James’ essay.)
