A Banjo's Guide to Peace
What is peace? The obvious answer, and therefore incomplete, might be an absence of war. Is it a time and place when all people live harmoniously? If we judge with that standard, we might think of Heraclitus, "From the strain of binding opposites comes harmony" (translated by Brooks Haxton.) Harmony, justice, equality, words that conjure the idea of peace, but do not entirely define it.
Heraclitus considers the lute when he writes his maxim. (For our purposes, we will consider the lute's more attractive descendant, the banjo.) The string, bound at two end pegs and pulled taught over a drum, produces a correct sound when struck. If either end releases its hold, the string will slacken and fail to emit the proper note. The string must have tension.
The commentators, politicians, and combatants on both sides of the major conflicts of the world all profess a desire for peace, naturally under conditions that the other side deems entirely unacceptable. Iraq, for example, teeters on the edge of civil war according to some experts. Others, including President Bush, deny the possibility of civil war due to the success of the elections. It may be impossible for us to know if Iraq has descended into civil war until the bloodletting really begins. Terrifying to contemplate that the carnage has not yet begun should civil war result in Iraq.
However, before we make this judgment or define the criteria for civil war in Iraq, let's look back to the Romans on the eve of their civil war. Julius Caesar's famous crossing of the Rubicon begins the demise of the Roman republic. As the civil war ensues, one Roman senator, Marcus Tullius Cicero, flees the general and his minions. Realizing that capture means death, Cicero pens his last work, On Duties, for his last lesson to restore the republic should Caesar's dictatorship fail. As we know, it did not. However, the constructs for republic lie clearly explained in this text. He says, "Our concern should always be for a peace that will have nothing to do with treachery" (1.35, translated by Griffin and Atkins).
Thus, how can justice and its companion, peace, be provided to the people of Iraq? First, justice is not revenge. Can the Middle East shirk its love affair with revenge? Second, justice is self-evident. Can the Middle East eliminate corruption? Third, justice, in a governmental sense, is secular. Can the Middle Eastern governments abandon theocracy as the first principle of government? Intuitively, I believe that the answers to these questions are "yes." I invite any reader to explain how.
Without justice, peace is an illusion, complete with tacit, disguised threats of violence and revenge. But without the inherent "banjo-string" tension of opposing parties, harmony is as much illusion. The fledgling democracies of Iraq and Lebanon must have citizens who, despite their differences, believe in the secular and not divine sense of justice. Let God have His due in Armageddon, but for now, the only hope on Earth is for people to appeal to their reason and prop up the rule of law not the rule of the bullet. As Cicero said before his impending execution, "nothing is liberal if it is not also just" (1.43).
Heraclitus considers the lute when he writes his maxim. (For our purposes, we will consider the lute's more attractive descendant, the banjo.) The string, bound at two end pegs and pulled taught over a drum, produces a correct sound when struck. If either end releases its hold, the string will slacken and fail to emit the proper note. The string must have tension.
The commentators, politicians, and combatants on both sides of the major conflicts of the world all profess a desire for peace, naturally under conditions that the other side deems entirely unacceptable. Iraq, for example, teeters on the edge of civil war according to some experts. Others, including President Bush, deny the possibility of civil war due to the success of the elections. It may be impossible for us to know if Iraq has descended into civil war until the bloodletting really begins. Terrifying to contemplate that the carnage has not yet begun should civil war result in Iraq.
However, before we make this judgment or define the criteria for civil war in Iraq, let's look back to the Romans on the eve of their civil war. Julius Caesar's famous crossing of the Rubicon begins the demise of the Roman republic. As the civil war ensues, one Roman senator, Marcus Tullius Cicero, flees the general and his minions. Realizing that capture means death, Cicero pens his last work, On Duties, for his last lesson to restore the republic should Caesar's dictatorship fail. As we know, it did not. However, the constructs for republic lie clearly explained in this text. He says, "Our concern should always be for a peace that will have nothing to do with treachery" (1.35, translated by Griffin and Atkins).
Thus, how can justice and its companion, peace, be provided to the people of Iraq? First, justice is not revenge. Can the Middle East shirk its love affair with revenge? Second, justice is self-evident. Can the Middle East eliminate corruption? Third, justice, in a governmental sense, is secular. Can the Middle Eastern governments abandon theocracy as the first principle of government? Intuitively, I believe that the answers to these questions are "yes." I invite any reader to explain how.
Without justice, peace is an illusion, complete with tacit, disguised threats of violence and revenge. But without the inherent "banjo-string" tension of opposing parties, harmony is as much illusion. The fledgling democracies of Iraq and Lebanon must have citizens who, despite their differences, believe in the secular and not divine sense of justice. Let God have His due in Armageddon, but for now, the only hope on Earth is for people to appeal to their reason and prop up the rule of law not the rule of the bullet. As Cicero said before his impending execution, "nothing is liberal if it is not also just" (1.43).
posted by Henry Plantagenet at 4:00 PM
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