In communal wars, the humanity of the other side is the worst
casualty
By Daniel Smith
WASHINGTON -- The quote came near the end of the Washington
Post story from Jenin, a town on the northern edge of the West
Bank: "I looked on them as people. Now, no one looks at them
as human."
This was the comment of a Palestinian, speaking about Israelis.. But in the context of 54 years of intermittent war, in particular the last ten months of terrorist bombings and Israeli reprisals whose toll is approaching 600, it easily could have been a comment by an Israeli.
It also could have been said by die-hard adherents on both
sides of the Northern Ireland fighting. After more than three
years of trying, the April 1998 Good Friday Agreement is in jeopardy.
The latest blow is the withdrawal of last week's offer by the
Irish Republican Army to put its weapons "completely and
verifiably beyond use" -- an offer dismissed by
Protestant leaders as insufficient because, among other shortfalls,
it included no timetable for completion.
Similarly, Serbs and ethnic Albanians in Macedonia remain deeply suspicious of each other even after the two sides signed an agreement recognizing the Albanian minority's culture and language and giving them greater participation in government.
If truth is the first casualty of war, then the humanity of one's opponent is a close and interrelated second. That's why, in war or active conflicts, organizations and governments spew propaganda that seeks to strip those on the other side of their identity as individuals. It is then but a short step from the impersonal "them" to the inanimate" it." And having reached the inanimate, civilizing restraints are more easily discarded to the point where opponents are so completely de-humanized, they become less than animals.
But to deliberately kill other human beings -- that is, to plan and train beforehand, even to hunt -- also de-humanizes the killer. This point is illustrated by the story of a samurai warrior whose duty was to avenge the slaying of his master. The samurai, successful in finding the killer, was about to strike the blow when his quarry spat in his face. The warrior stopped, sheathed his sword, and walked away. Why? Because he had felt anger when spat upon, and to kill his quarry at that point would have been a personal -- that is, a human -- act.
In transforming opponents into non-persons, governments and groups can appeal to patriotism, religion, or cultural heritage as justification for organized violence. All that seems to distinguish the opponents in their various confrontations is the sophistication of the weapons available to them. What is the same for both parties, to employ an ancient phrase, is they have hardened their hearts.
When this stage is reached, only exhaustion or outside mediation
can re- humanize the relationship. The fighter, as epitomized
by the samurai, is emotionless. Yet it is emotion, properly channeled,
that forms the wellspring of humanness. Emotion involves personal
contact, a perceived relationship between individuals. Even when
adversaries refuse to meet
directly and insist on an intermediary, a crucial first step has
been taken because an emotional involvement with the mediator
has occurred -- a willingness to convey and to receive information.
Of course, this is not enough for conflict resolution. The more de- humanizing propaganda has been internalized, the harder it is to convince combatants to stop fighting. And the longer they fight, the easier it becomes to forget the other side are people. Just look at Jenin, Northern Ireland and Macedonia. (end)
Col. Daniel Smith, USA (Ret.), is the chief of research
at the Center for Defense Information in Washington, D.C.
(Copyright 2001, Global Beat Syndicate, 418 Lafayette Street,
Suite 554, New York, NY 10003 http://www.nyu.edu/globalbeat/syndicate).