Notes on Violence and the Intellectuals

WE ENGAGE REGULARLY IN A RITUAL of the most profound significance which is performed not only by academics and intellectuals but by the whole human race. We come together to reason with each other about relatively intractable subjects, to pursue radically different points of view and unpleasant connections regardless of our personal reactions to them. Our intercourse is governed by important though relatively unverbalized rules in much the same way that any interpersonal connection is. We have agreed to listen to each other carefully, to reject appeals to prejudice or rhetoric, to eschew as far as possible the mystical, the poorly defined, etc. The sweep of human history has taught us that not only is truth itself best served by these rules, but that the applications of truth, its engineering aspect, to human problems depend on them as well. Most important of all, we abhor violence: the laying on of hands or instruments in anger, or its incitement through words. We consider this totally destructive of any truth seeking enterprise. At the siege of Syracuse, while he was involved in a mathematical calculation, the great Archimedes was run through by a Roman soldier who would not wait till he finished his work (Durant, 1939). This famous tragedy is paradigmatic of the opposition between violence and reason, something we have more or less learned to bear; we are not as aware of the enthusiasm for violence manifested by many intellectuals.

Every society seems to safeguard some part of itself from violence though this grace is frequently not extended to other cultures. Throughout history, some men have set themselves apart from the possibilities of violence so as to cultivate an intellectual and contemplative life. Of course, reason, art, and science's seclusion from violence have been breached often by the demands of the world and an eager response from some intellectuals. It would be psychohistorically fascinating to examine cultural history from the