Brian Roiter's Viewpoint ("Love your enemies") shares a point with some of history's greatest humans. Jesus, Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, people who inspire us with their virtue, changed the world with their love. These are people who loved those who it is hardest to love, who poured out their lives to help the less fortunate, who stood up against social injustice and hypocrisy with love, integrity, and respect and changed the world. If we can agree that love is the answer, (sorry if that sounds clich?©, it's still true) why do we crave violence? Why is it so "awesome?"
I went to see Punch Drunk Love last week, shown in Barnum. (I might spoil some of it, so feel free to skip ahead if you haven't seen it). Adam Sandler's character is pushed around by everyone. A troop of white trash stalks him and steals hundreds of dollars from him. He seemed content to submit until they hurt his new love. Now he becomes a dynamic warrior, and kicks the crap out of his four attackers with one blow to each. Real Ultimate Power, totally sweet. I personally think that violence is not glorious, it's messy and ugly. Yet, why did I feel so good when Adam Sandler kicked their asses?
I don't know if my answer is accurate, but bear with my thought process. I was walking down the streets of Somerville when I encountered a herd of wild townies. They were taunting some Tufts women, and as I passed them they said, "Let's not pick on this fag," and shoved me, (I apologize for using their slang). I felt angry, and somewhere in me I wanted to turn around and obliterate them, humiliate them. I caught myself quickly. Wait, don't I believe that love is the answer? Don't I strive to lead a life of peace and forgiveness? I agree with Brian whole heartedly when he says forgiveness and love are radical, and hatred is petty. But why did I want to kick the crap out of them?
It was my desire to have power. To be able to show them they did not have the power, I did. I also think they walk around in a crowd pushing smaller men, and taunting women because they enjoyed the power and satisfaction from the domination of others. What if they ran into a larger herd of townies, would they engage in some senseless violence to prove superiority? They have something to prove, and somewhere inside I feel the same way. Somewhere inside us we believe that if push came to shove we could destroy everything, neutralize every foe. Our anger would make us invincible. This is the reason we fought in middle school.
I feel that the same inclination explains idealizations of "action" heroes. Why do we love Bruce Lee? Because he could beat up every person on the Earth and he destroys the wicked. We feel empowered by his total superiority, and it somehow reinforces our belief in our ability to destroy all foes, the "wicked" by our judgment. The desire to dominate others, physically, mentally, or even musically, is all part of our love of power. Something in us wants to be great, the biggest and most powerful. Fortunately this is impossible. We are small and weak.
Freud believed that God was a projection of our father image into the heavens. Could it be that our need to praise the highest power has projected the God idea into our fathers? Do we also project this into the heroes like Bruce Lee? Do we see ourselves as God? It's as if we have an ingrained predisposition to worshiping something Almighty. It's very dangerous when we begin to see ourselves as invincible, and yet it is somehow pleasurable. In the Bible it's the original sin, the desire to become like God.
So is violence always self-indulgent and evil? Is it always to be looked down upon? That seems to be to extreme, since violence is often seen as a good thing, so often displayed as virtuous in our media and ideologies. We like that Adam Sandler kicks the crap out of those jerks, because we believe that they deserved it, they certainly deserve some punishment. The trouble is we believe that we deserve to disperse this justice with the violence of our own hands, proving our power. We do not. This is again self deification, the assumption of power that is not ours.
There is justice in this world. Crimes deserve punishment -- this seems to be central to our understanding of right and wrong. Power, of course is needed to carry out justice, whether it be shared democratic power or a monarch. Power is not evil unto itself. Somehow it is inevitable, a part of life. The true question is what the true authority is. Who delegates justice? Who has that right? Kings? Bush? The masses? Perhaps God, but certainly not myself. Yet I find myself entitled to judge, and in minor ways punish, or subtly dominate others to whom I deceive myself into believing I'm superior to. It is all part of a subconscious struggle for power, to prove that I am great. What takes true character is to understand our place in the world. This does not mean we are incapable of great things, but we should be careful not to believe that gives us any special rights.
Was it right for Sandler's character to beat his attackers up? I would argue that it was not. Justice cannot be found through revenge, and there is no justice without mercy, though it can, and sometimes must, include violence. The battle is to not assume this role, thinking we have some right to vengeance, some right to God's throne. We will continue to usurp power for ourselves until we understand who it rightfully belongs to. Even then we will fight letting it go, but I assure you, it belongs in more qualified hands than yours, mine, any human's, or even humanity's. Understandably, many of you will disagree with that last point. I challenge you to think about it though, about the nature of power, justice, along with our selfish inability to comprehend justice. True justice is perfectly humble and loving, and none of us can claim to be that. I still hope we will continue to strive to live out love and compassion, seeking peace and justice, and perhaps their origin.
Nathan Proctor is a sophomore who has yet to declare a major.
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