The defense of torture by political thinkers and the acceptance of torture as morally licit by members of the polis are neither wholly new developments nor surprising changes in our political culture. The willingness to torture, to commit physical and mental acts of violence to pry information out of human persons, flows from an intellectual violence as old as history, and which today cannot be claimed as the sole property of any political philosophy, party, or persuasion.
We commit intellectual violence any time we use language to diminish the meaning of someone or something. Language is of course limited: any word we use referentially cannot contain or express the full meaning of the referent. The signified is more than the signifier. Does this mean that any use of language commits a violence of sorts? Not necessarily. We can avoid the violence of words when we use words knowing and communicating that there is more meaning in what we refer to than what is signified in our language. It is when we use language that demeans (de-means), that speaks of the signified as if it were nothing more than what is contained by our signifiers, that we are guilty of an intellectual violence. With words we cut away realities that do not fit into our frameworks; we slash aside components that escape our constructs. The violence of language that I find so abhorrent disrespects the truth of that to which the language refers. It is not among acceptable acts of violence that are directed at healing or purifying; it is violence against the very essence or being of the referent. It is a violence that harms.
Torture, likewise a violence that harms and a violence that is directed against the being of the tortured, is defended in many cases today by evoking the value of safety and the duty of the State to protect its citizens from harmful enemies. The enemy in many defenses of torture is depicted in language as no more than an enemy, his or her unique identity and personhood forgotten, ignored, or dismissed. Captured enemies are seen and treated as mere means in our projects of protection, not as ends in themselves. Recognizing hostile intent or threats to safety is a proper role of the State, but when we reduce the meaning of persons to concepts of "enemy" or "threat," then we are in danger of treating them not in accordance with who and what they are, not as whole persons, but only as parts of our projects. When enemies are demeaned, then torture ceases to give us pause; it becomes acceptable, even something we should be proud of in the service of our safety and security.
Of course, dehumanizing rhetoric is not limited to the defense of torture. It is at the root of many of our defended acts of violence. Violence against the unborn is justified because we see them and speak of them as less than human beings. The killing of innocents in war is more tolerable when we think of them as nothing more than collateral damage. Immigrants who have entered America not in accordance with our laws are called "illegals," their humanity and personhood thrown outside of our hearts and minds as we consider their identity only in terms of their having violated our laws. Slavery and racism are evils that fester in false and demeaning usages of language.
Any Utopian plan to rid the world of these acts of violence would be a fool’s endeavor, and, if the history of Utopian projects is any indication, would result in its own acts of violence in the name of bringing an end to violence. There are problems that are unsolvable by any human instrument, and the problem of violence is one of these. Nevertheless, we have the power to decrease the violence in our world. While we may not have the capacity ourselves to stop the perpetual acts of violence that plague our homes, cities, countries, and our world, we can put a stop to our own intellectual violence by using language in a spirit of humility, hospitality, and hope.
Pages
