Homo vehementi

Perhaps Homo vehementi — “violent man” — is too cynical, but in reflecting on the nature of humanity based on our behavior, it seems apt. It is so consistent as to be categorical because violence in certain understandings is intrinsic to consciousness, identity, and self-awareness (cf. where I’ve written about identity in the past in Homo absconditus [forgive the worn-out naming convention], and On the Necessity of Trauma).

In a discussion about the violence of identity, Zat Rana cites Jiddu Krishnamurti who claims that identity is violence “because you are separating yourself from the rest of mankind.” The logic of identity as separation is easy enough to follow: A is A because it is not B. Let’s also grant the conception of such separation as “violence” for the sake of shared language, though it would in itself be an interesting discussion.

With this understanding, the modus operandi of consciousness is violence. Understanding is, functionally, the delineation of one concept from another. It is recognizing the nuances between identities, whether identity in the personal psychological sense or in the categorical sense (i.e., the concept of self in the former, and the ability to distinguish the categorical difference between shoes and horses or whatever in the latter). This is necessarily separation. The in-group formation and out-group derogation that is so fundamental to how humans operate is evident here, and certainly supports this idea that identity is violence.

Rana goes on to respond to Krishnamurti, offering the reader some encouragement. Through cooperation and seeing interactions as a positive-sum game (a situation in which everyone wins), we can move beyond such violence. This would indeed seem to mitigate the problem. Research supports the claim that cooperation breaks down barriers. It has been shown to directly reduce intergroup bias.

Unfortunately, however, western society is built on violence. In essential societal functions, it relies on zero-sum games (a game in which for someone to win, someone else must lose), necessitating in-groups and out-groups. Requiring separation. For example, our elections require clear winners and losers. Forms of anarchy or perhaps direct democracies in small societies could obviate this problem, but society requires politics, which requires zero-sum games. The very operation of a democratic system with a competitive ballot relies on separation. Violence is essential to democracy. Consequently, the operation of society makes policies and even worldviews into a zero-sum game as well because they are so deeply intertwined with our politics. Suddenly, our very identity is at stake when we enter the voting booth.

This intersection of identity and politics actually offers a clarifying example. Using identities (e.g., African American, woman, etc.) for socio-political organization allows us to helpfully recognize categories that have controlled the lived realities of those persons identified by them, identities systematically neglected, repressed, or segregated. It leverages the violence of separation to work against the historical (and physical) violence of separation. The challenge is when, and if, we can shift from identity politicking and violence to true cooperation. The hope is we will get to a point when egalitarianism is a present reality, when identity politics is not needed and actually holding us back from most effectively engaging each other’s particularity, when any voice can be heard without having to shout.

That is of course a hope, and we should all be practicing encountering people in their particularity everyday. In the meantime, if consciousness breeds violence as we’ve seen, it is perhaps the escape from consciousness engendered by mindfulness that we need to practice first. Knowing when to think critically is indeed an essential lesson — applying our understanding (our delineation of this from that, the violence of the separation of concepts) to effectually move through the world — but knowing when not to think is a much less appreciated lesson. Knowing how to let go of our need to understand, to avoid applying categorical thinking, to stop judging circumstances, experiences, and our self and others.

If identity is violence, then our very consciousness, what makes us distinctly human, relies on violence to operate. But perhaps that reliance is the animalistic influence on our consciousness; perhaps our very self is a product of this animalistic need to survive.

I, however, do not intend to survive. I intend to thrive, to flourish, and to die.

Perhaps to be human is not to be a Homo sapien, defined by our consciousness, violent at our slightest perception. It is not to separate in order to understand. It is not to use our highest faculties and thereby reduce life, the universe, and everything.

Perhaps what is most truly human is to escape identity, coming together into the collective, the community. It is the entanglement of selves reflexively understanding in a shared performance of identity rather than identity as the solo performance of an externalization of self-understanding. It is movement with and toward others. It is not concern about my life, my identity, or my experience; what is most truly human is concern about Life, Identity, and the Human Experience.

Escape consciousness. Expand categories. Encounter others.