For all its urbanity, however, “Identities and Violence” neglects what others will take to be common sense. Hutus and Tutsis will not lay down arms because they are told they are Kigalians, laborers or human beings. Sunnis and Shiites will not be coaxed into a group hug by a reminder of the religion and cultural attributes they share. The strength of Sen’s argument lies in its intuitive nature: “In our normal lives we see ourselves as members of a variety of groups.” Its weakness lies in its failure to explain why, at critical junctures, we disown that knowledge. Is it because human cognition tends to trade in binaries? Is it because violence creates identity as much as identity creates violence? Is it because human beings fear the choices of solitude a more cosmopolitan outlook would force them to face?

Greg, Jennifer, Swervecurve, Steven,

I wish I could agree with you … and with Sen … that my reaction was born out of empathy. It would make it more noble and less malevolent. But I don’t remember feeling any empathy for the windshield washer. In fact, I was furious at him as well for not having the blanquillos to stand up to her. Nor do I think that we had anything in common: to the degree that a windshield washer is similar to a barista, I think everyone could claim that they work in the “service industry.”

Race, it seems, probably was a contributing factor. Especially given that I was in South Africa less than a decade after the end of apartheid. But I don’t think it was the predominant factor. If I picture Condalezza Rice doing the exact same thing to a working class white kid (or, for that matter, Bill Cosby doing it to a white – or any other color – woman), I’m sure I’d be just as indignant.

No, I can’t convince myself that I reacted out of empathy. I don’t think I even reacted to the woman’s callousness. I’d say it was something much more objective and detached. I think what made my blood pressure rise and my fists clench was a disruption of an abstract regard for “equality” or “fairness.” My rage didn’t come because I related to the man with the blue rag or because I was offended by the woman with the wine glass. It came because I saw that one person had power (ie. money) and another person did not … and that was enough.

Assuming I’m being honest with myself, where does that violent desire for equality from? Did I learn it as a good desciple of west coast liberal academia? Or is it deeply programmed into our DNA? Did early bands of homo sapien, or even our predecessors, fare better when members of a tribe felt themselves obligated to enforce “egalitarianism” even if it came at the cost of smashing some homo-sapien face into a tree trunk?

Leahpeah,

I agree. I think that high-handedness is always inspired by 1.) insecurity and 2.) fear of losing a position of unwarranted power/priviledge. But evolutionarily speaking, that makes sense to me. As does someone who doesn’t have power wanting to knock the king off the hill. But what I don’t get is why any creature would feel a gut impulse to enforce a sense of overall equality.