In
his 2011 brick of a book “The Better Angels of Our Nature” Steven Pinker makes the
astonishing case that society has become progressively less violent throughout
recorded history. Despite the many vicious atrocities of the 20th
Century, the number of global per capita deaths due to violence were actually relatively
few when compared with the savagery of previous centuries. He lays out the
evidence in a whopping 840+ pages of historical detail and closely argued
commentary leaving little room for serious disagreement in what is about as
close to an offensive weapon as a paperback could possibly get.
Pinker
attributes the gradual civilising process to a variety of factors including the
rise of reason, prudence, empathy, human rights and self-control. What struck
me especially through his discussion of our inner demons and better angels was
the degree to which imagination is profoundly implicated in the slow ascendency
of civilisation and enlightenment.
As
is to be expected, Pinker is quick to quash any notion that there might be an
evolutionary basis to the progressive decline in violence - the timescale is
simply too short. Nonetheless, there are numerous points throughout the book
where it is clear that evolution - of the cultural kind – has provided important
ways to reimagine, reconceive, anticipate and avoid many of the more fraught
interactions with our fellow human beings. It should also be noted that without
the capacity for imagination it is inconceivable that any such humanisation
process could have been possible.
In a
chapter on the subject of self-control, Pinker mentions a study conducted by
psychologists Douglas Kenrick and David Buss in which 70 – 90% of men and
between 50 – 80% of women admitted to having at least one homicidal fantasy in
the preceding year. If these figures are in any way accurate then Pinker is
right to remark: “The small number of
premeditated murders that are actually carried out must be the cusp of a
colossal iceberg of homicidal desires submerged in sea of inhibitions.” Moreover,
whatever laws, morals, taboos or other forms of deterrent or self-control serve
to inhibit these murderous intentions, they would be meaningless if we had no
means to contemplate their consequences. Instead we would be little more than ungovernable
bundles of urges with no possibility of premeditation or self restraint. Furthermore,
while we may be uncertain whether the tendency to imagine violent acts (not to
mention consuming representations of them) either increases or diminishes our
propensity to carry them out, it is nonetheless true that the ability to
anticipate situations in which one is likely to be the victim of violence have
a significant influence on our behaviour; on the places we are likely go and
the kinds of confrontations we are prepared to let ourselves in for. Discretion
truly is the better part of valour.
Pinker
also discusses the research of Richard Tremblay, a psychologist who studied
levels of violence across various age groups. His work shows that it is not the
testosterone driven years of late adolescence in which humans are at their most
violent, as one might expect, but in fact during the terrible twos.
A
few days ago my soon-to-be-3-year-old son accidentally clipped my forehead with
a sturdy cardboard roll. It barely deserved to be acknowledged so I laughed it
off. But just as I did so I detected the faint glimmerings of a realisation dawn
upon his face as he contemplated – with a chuckle - the ramifications of what
had just happened. As far as he was concerned he had been the direct cause of
the “event” for which there had been no penalty. With no intuitive
understanding the difference between intentional acts and accidental events,
his response was far more predictable for me than it was for him. I tried to
pre-empt it with a “Don’t you dare!” But his self taught lesson wasn’t yet
complete and within a moment he had shoved the roll painfully into my cheek which
was met with an angry reprimand and a scowl. There is no such thing as
unintended malice and every parent will mete out this lesson instinctively,
just as I did.
As
children become increasingly capable of controlling their actions (literally of
premeditation) we begin to expect more of them in terms of self-control and the
more likely we are to judge them on the consequences of their actions. What
further proof do we need that consciousness, imagination and morality develop throughout childhood and are to a significant degree formed and informed by culture?
“To contemplate a horrible possibility, especially while smiling, is already to do something bad. The thinking may be morally bad even if it is never voiced and has no effect on anyone else.” -Derek Melser
Whilst
I would agree with Melser that there is definitely something morally wrong
about the person who gloats at another’s suffering, I’m not at all sure that we
can generalise about all forms of imagined horror. The Health and Safety
officer who takes pleasure in omitting a real and present danger from a Risk
Assessment is doing something genuinely reprehensible, but their taking
pleasure at contemplating likely causes of injury or death and bringing them to
people’s attention is by no means morally bad, quite the reverse. When my son
chuckled at his dawning epiphany I didn’t reprimand him for his thought, in
fact I smiled along knowingly in the hope that he would manage to avert his
impulse. Such moments of self-restraint are a vital part of the humanising
process and there is genuine pleasure to be had in successfully overcoming the
demons of our nature.
As
Tremblay’s research shows, children of my son’s age are particularly poor at
inhibiting their behaviour. They are impulsive because they haven’t yet learnt
the knack of contemplating in imagination what they can only do in deed. Encouraging
imagination undoubtedly brings with it the possibility that some people will
use it to attempt to deceive the rest of us. But the solution is not for the
rest of us to simply inhibit our darker acts of imagination. Perhaps one of the
principal reasons we are so fascinated with crime - and why we consume
representations of it in such vast quantities - is not because we take pleasure
in the suffering of others but because crime provides insights into the possible
deceptions that others might try to perpetrate against us. After all, the most vulnerable angels are those who can't imagine what it takes be a demon.
