Ideas are the continuation of war by
other means.
In this paraphrased reversal of
Clausewitz’s dictum, I stand firmly in the tradition of Nietzschean genealogy.
Ideology and its messengers are the sophisticated brutality of civilization.
Ideology is less dangerous in its word-form, but show me an ideology that
doesn’t saturate material culture, that doesn’t guide behavior and become
another tool of imperialism. Words are the way for those without weapons; words
shape the will without the need for weapons. Ideology is sophisticated
brutality.
And there is no way around this,
although I do think (of course I do) that some ideology is superior. Pluralism
and humanism are ideologies, even as they offer themselves as “transcendent”
options. I cannot just promote dialogue over ideology, as if dialogue itself were
not an ideology. So, there, I’m staking a claim-- that the ideology of dialogue
is superior. I’ll be honest, ok, and own my imperialism-- that the world will
be better off if everyone came to my side, that I think that the values behind
the dialogical ideology should win, should vanquish (silence?) the values and
voices promoting whatever would oppose dialogue. (Of course, this comes with
the implication that ideologies which deny dialogue should be vanquished also--
any ideologies which assumes the inhumanity of some part of the human
population).
So, do I get any moral superiority
for this? If I say “Don’t punch Nazis; convert Nazis,” am I better? I
exchange physical violence for ideological imperialism. I won’t deny that it
sounds much better. But I want to focus, for now at least, on the condescension
involved here, the same condescension in Socrates’ claim that all evil is
simply ignorance.
If all evil is ignorance, then no
person is my mortal enemy-- only a wrong idea can drive a person to kill me. It
follows, then, that any enemy is one enlightenment away, one conversion away,
from being safe, from becoming my kind. The first issue I see in this is that
it puts me and my kind at the top of the enlightenment pyramid-- a claim to
position that’s pretentious, presumptuous, and surely tainted with its own
ignorance. The second issue, related to the first, is that it places
responsibility for “the problem” entirely on my enemy, rather than seeing the
problem as arising from the fallen state of all humanity, or at least from the
dynamic between me and my enemy. I’m a therapist, dammit! It’s not that people
are problems; it’s much more likely that people are hurt, and relationships are
broken.
It’s funny though, that even with
the above critiques, I still hold on to my belief of having ideological
superiority. In my head, I can hear myself taking in the critiques above and
making them into a lesson about tact. If I am to convert my enemy, I should
approach them with vulnerability as armor, to show myself as willing to change
so that they are similarly inspired, to approach them as if the dynamic is the
problem, and through this relational tact change them. I suppose, however, that
this is still more virtuous-- if I act vulnerable and open, I could easily
trick myself as well into vulnerability and openness.
What am I getting at here? What do I
want myself and the reader to take away from this? I think the main sentiment
is that it’s important to acknowledge, affirm, and yet also feel a little
embarrassed by our desire for power. Even if you are righteous, do not believe
that your righteousness is your only god; know that even now you are driven (at
least in part) by power. Every ideology is also a weapon. It’s good to aim for
righteousness, but know that even that can become toxic.
And maybe this, then, as a bigger
conclusion-- that the veil of ignorance hangs over all of us, and that even if
one enlightenment is all it would take, no side among us is in the position to
do all of the enlightening.
