Understanding Violence
In order for me to even begin to understand my own attitude towards violence, I first need to define what exactly I believe violence to be. I could do this in a similar way to how a dictionary might, with a broad and generic definition. However, a) that would only succeed in oversimplifying a very diverse and multifaceted issue, and b) that’s not why you’re here. You’re here, hopefully, because you value my perspective. So I will instead strive to explore my own personal values and experiences in a critical light, injecting just enough bias to convince you that I am interesting yet still credible.
By no means do I consider myself violent. But again, I question the merit behind my own statement. What exactly do I mean by this claim? What evidence am I able to provide for it?
I grew up sandwiched between one older brother and two younger ones. Though I never caused serious or lasting damage to any of them, I certainly can’t say that none of our childhood disagreements ended with bloody noses. (I won’t tell you for what portion of those I was responsible; only to spare the dignity of my brothers, obviously.) I also won’t try to tell you that the four of us didn’t burn a few innocent ants to death with a magnifying glass during that same period of our lives.
I wish I could say I’ve learned to make better choices since. If I could claim that last week I went to McDonald’s and ordered a salad, I would. But we both know I inhaled six of those unethically sourced, but oh so tasty, chicken Mcnuggets.
Do these choices and behaviours make me violent?
Objectively, I have to say yes. I have exhibited actions which, while common, are inarguably violent.
Yet, on an emotional level, I feel quite differently. While I am able to recognize the violence associated with each of these actions, I also maintain the belief that I am not a violent person. I am compassionate and empathetic; certainly not violent. Rationally, these two conclusions cannot coexist. So why do I still feel this way?
The perpetration of violence, whether committed by or against myself, does not entertain or empower me, nor does it make me feel safe. While this understanding surely differs for other individuals, for me, violence elicits fear. Fear is an incredibly powerful and effective tool, and I can appreciate this. Yet I see violent and forceful conduct as a primal and shameful tool to resort to, used by individuals who lack control in situations without stability. This has certainly proven true in my own experience. While nearly all of the violent actions I previosly mentioned yielded my desired results, they all shared another similarity; each of these events occurred during times of weakness. Afterwards, I had what I wanted. But was I proud of my actions? Absolutely not.
Clearly, my view on violence is quite pessimistic. This might be an element of the vast disconnect between my actions and the view I have of myself. Would it be unusual for any individual to hesitate to identify with a behaviour they view so negatively?
This attribution between violence and weakness has led me to rationalize my own actions, and so I have deemed these particular instances of violence to be acceptable. It is my understanding that we probably all do this in some form. We all need to fall asleep at night and face ourselves in the mirror the next morning.
What has proven to cause me the most distress is not my own ability to rationalize the consumption of a chicken nugget, but the prospect of the violent behaviours others are able to rationalize in their own minds.
