Steven Pinker’s new book on violence is unblushingly a work of Whig history. Its purpose, as he describes it, is ‘a rehabilitation of a concept of modernity and progress, and… a sense of gratitude for the institutions of civilization and enlightenment that have made it possible.’ For the long Hobbesian nightmare of seizing and fighting, dominant for tens of thousands of years of human history, has gradually been displaced by ’changes in our cultural and material milieu that have given our peaceable motives the upper hand.’
‘Readers of this book’, he assures, ‘no longer have to worry about… the prospect of a nuclear world war that would put an end to civilization or to human life itself’:
You would think that the disappearance of the gravest threat in the history of humanity would bring a sigh of relief among commentators on world affairs… Surely the experts have been acknolwedging the improvements in the world’s fortunes from a few decades ago.
But no – the pundits are glummer than ever! … Why the gloom? Partly it’s the result of market forces in the punditry business, which favor the Cassandras over the Pollyannas. Partly it arises from human temperament…
But, believe it or not, ‘from a global, historical and quantitative perspective, the dream of the 1960s has come true: the world has (almost) put an end to war.’
That Pinker’s chief aim is to downplay the extraordinary burst of violence emanating lately from Washington can’t be doubted. The book is peppered with anodyne expressions of indifference and, indeed, fondness for centralized state coercion, especially when directed inwards at its own citizens: ’Leviathan’, he notes repeatedly, ‘may be the most consistent violence-reducer’ there is. Murder rates in the US fell from the 1990s because ‘the Leviathan got bigger, smarter, and more effective… But in present-day America a “death sentence” is a bit of a fiction, because mandatory legal reviews delay most executions indefinitely, and only a few tenths of a percentage point of the nation’s murderers are ever put to death.’ He defends the views on torture expressed by his Harvard colleague Alan Dershowitz (with whom Pinker teaches a course on Morality and Taboo).
Chunks of the book’s 800 pages are made up of embarrassingly uncritical and complacent sales talk:
By the 1990s the only politically acceptable American wars were surgical routs achieved with remote-control technology. They could no longer be wars of attrition that ground up soldiers by the tens of thousands, nor aerial holocausts visited on foreign civilians as in Dresden, Hiroshima, and North Vietnam.
The change is palpable within the American military itself. Military leaders at all levels have become aware that gratuitous killing is a public-relations disaster at home and counterproductive abroad, alienating allies and emboldening enemies. The Marine Corps has instituted a martial-arts program in which leathernecks are indoctrinated in a new code of honor, the Ethical Marine Warrior…
The code of the Ethical Warrior, even as an aspiration, shows that the American armed forces have come a long way from a time when its soldiers referred to Vietnamese peasants as gooks, slopes, and slants and when the military was slow to investigate atrocities against civilians…
[The] American-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in the first decade of the 21st century…are nothing like the wars of the past. In both conflicts the interstate war phase was quick and (by historical standards) low in battle deaths. Most of the deaths in Iraq were caused by intercommunal violence in the anarchy that followed… In Afghanistan, the US Air Force followed a set of humanitarian protocols during the height of the anti-Taliban bombing campaign in 2008 that Human Rights Watch praised for its “very good record of minimizing harm to civilians.”
There are many more things that could be said about Pinker’s book, most of them bad (Peter Singer loved it). That isn’t my concern here. I want merely to highlight a practice of which Pinker has recently made a profession: the repackaging of conventional pieties (‘The positive-sum cooperation of commerce flourishes best inside a big tent presided over by a Leviathan’), congenial to the powerful, into bracing or scandalous truths, kept inaccessible, embattled or ignored by prevailing opinion. (A publicity interview for the book described Pinker as an enemy of the ‘chattering classes’; Niall Ferguson is tediously promoted, in similar style, as ‘saying the sort of thing that drives liberal England mad’.) The author elevates expressions of Panglossian inanity, of facile Whiggishness, to the status of keen insight and daring iconoclasm. In his eagerness to defend the modern state, to extol its nighwatchman functions (police, courts, military) in defence of property rights, and to laud ‘civilization’ against the ‘primitive’, Pinker catches the mood of the times as expertly as did Ferguson, the Harvard historian whose Empire (2003) and Colossus (2004) sought to rehabilitate the colonial record of the British Empire, criticize the subsequent decades of self-rule, and suggest that the United States would serve everyone’s welfare by formally annexing overseas territory.
But the promotion of violence in the guise of taboo-busting, and the encouragement of Panglossian attitudes towards the present, sometimes take a form more agreeable to ‘progressive’ tastes. To see how this is so, note what Pinker has to say in defence of violent video games and other ‘new media’, in a New York Times op-ed piece:
New forms of media have always caused moral panics: the printing press, newspapers, paperbacks and television were all once denounced as threats to their consumers’ brainpower and moral fiber.
So too with electronic technologies. PowerPoint, we’re told, is reducing discourse to bullet points. Search engines lower our intelligence, encouraging us to skim on the surface of knowledge rather than dive to its depths. Twitter is shrinking our attention spans.
But such panics often fail basic reality checks. When comic books were accused of turning juveniles into delinquents in the 1950s, crime was falling to record lows, just as the denunciations of video games in the 1990s coincided with the great American crime decline. The decades of television, transistor radios and rock videos were also decades in which I.Q. scores rose continuously.
The tern ‘moral panic’ tars its object with the brush of fogeyish wowserism associated with the likes of Allan Bloom (or Fredric Wertham). And it reserves for the defender of ‘new media’ a levelheaded sophistication, a cool immunity to the conservative hysteria and unreason which swirl around him. It has been adopted and regularly used by a fellow defender of violent video games, assistant professor of psychology at Texas A&M, Christopher J. Ferguson:
We know that new media experience cycles of moral panic during which they are blamed for all manner of social ills. In the 19th century dime novels were imagined harmful for young women who, it was believed, could not distinguish reality from fiction. In the mid-20th century a psychiatrist testified before the US Congress that Batman and Robin were secretly homosexual and would lead youth not only into delinquency but the homosexual lifestyle.
Further panics have surfaced over everything from waltzes, jazz music, Elvis Presley and comic books to Harry Potter, Dungeons and Dragons, rap and now video games. In retrospect those panics appear absurd, but people can always think of reasons why a new media is “different”. Movies were visual, television was available every day, Harry Potter made witchcraft fun, Dungeons and Dragons was interactive (in fact more interactive than video games). Nothing came of those panics and nothing is coming of video games.
Our kids today are the least violent, most civically involved, least likely to use drugs, least likely to get pregnant, most likely to graduate from secondary education compared to the past several generations. The VVG [violent video game] issue is a crusade in desperate search of a crisis.
Pinker and Chris Ferguson thus set themselves up as sturdy trees withstanding the prevailing winds of opinion. Ferguson has some right to this claim. By resisting the hypothesis that violent video games desensitize users to violence and increase tolerance for aggressive behaviour, he forms a lonely minority within his scholarly discipline. But that is not because ‘market forces in the punditry business’, or in academia, ‘favor the Cassandras over the Pollyannas.’ Professional lobbyists, in scholarly or ‘critical’ guise, are employed and contracted to promote just this don’t-you-worry-about-the-knockers-things-are-looking-up line. The Cato Institute and people like Robert Corn-Revere have authored paragraphs on video games virtually identical to those quoted above. Frank Furedi is academic guru for a nest of corporate-sponsored contrarians, and erstwhile ‘Marxists’, at Spiked Online. He and his epigones are preocupied by, and relentlessly denounce, the ‘culture of fear’ and ‘moral panics’ incited by mass media outlets and paternalistic authorities. Such panics, they claim, cause unnecessary popular agitation about global warming, obesity, tobacco consumption, video games and the individual’s right to express his lifestyle preferences and consumption tastes in the manner he judges best. Spiked’s message – inexplicably given a platform in the mass-media outlets they constantly bemoan – is obviously crafted with attention to the needs of their corporate donors, then given a libertarian sheen.
Suppose that the benefits arising from provision of some good (e.g. the production and marketing of violent video games) or performance of some action (e.g. launching of wars of aggression) are captured by a small group of ‘special interests’ (warmongers and their backers, owners of ‘new media’ firms to whom profits accrue). The costs, on the other hand, are shared between a large number of people (the general public, or the multitude of firms in ‘old media’ who sell substitute goods displaced by ‘new media’ competitors). Then a moment’s thought tells you that individual members of the first group face much stronger incentives to fund lobbyists or pay promoters of that good or action. Polyannas looking to sell their wares thus find more willing buyers, with deeper pockets, than Cassandras ever do. (Obvious examples are the ‘merchants of doubt’ who argue that some consumer good or industrial process is neither a public-health threat nor morally objectionable, or those journalists who spread a casus belli or are paid ideologues. Great material rewards, on the other hand, do not await people willing to engage, for a living, in professional product disparagement, even without the threat of tortious interference claims, or in anti-war journalism.) Let’s suppose, as Pinker does, that thinkers respond to incentives and adjust their opinions, even if only a little, to achieve a greater prospect of success in the labour market (career advancement, higher earnings). Then it’s easy to understand why so many are so eager to denounce popular ‘alarmism’ or ‘gloom’, and to reasure their audience that there’s nothing to worry about.
Recently both Pinker and Chris Ferguson lent their credentials as amici curiae on the side of the Entertainment Merchants Association during the US Supreme Court case which decided the fate of a Californian law restricting sale of violent video games to minors. Ferguson’s generally complacent, uncritical attitude towards the providers of media entertainment goods is evident throughout his many publications attacking the ‘exaggerations’ of psychologists and pediatricians who use media-effects theory and social-learning theory to suggest that watching TV or playing video games may lead to behaviour modification. This includes taking the shallowest industry PR at face value. In an article that considers whether depiction of violence or sex in TV advertisements ‘may produce deleterious effects on adult and child viewers’, Ferguson and his co-authors offer the following:
A theoretical framework for understanding the effectiveness of television advertised [sic] is worth discussion. This paper endorses a model of understanding advertising and marketing in which their influence is more informative than behavior changing per se. In other words, advertising’s power is not in making people buy things they do not already have an inclination to buy, but rather in directing people toward specific brands. The American Marketing Association (AMA) defines marketing as
‘‘Marketing is the activity, set of institutions, and processes for creating, communicating, delivering, and exchanging offerings that have value for customers, clients, partners, and society at large’’ (AMA, 2007).
For example, a person is unlikely to buy cola unless they have tasted it or something similar in the past and enjoyed it. Advertising makes that cola enjoying person more inclined to choose a brand they identify with such as Coke or Pepsi, and eschew lesser known, potentially cheaper brands. Advertising, then, does not create massive behavior change, or shape people’s core personality or beliefs. It does nudge people in the direction of particular product brands the result of which can be windfall profits for those brands (see Kotler & Keller, 2009). Even relatively new products must appeal largely to existing consumer needs or wants.
Elsewhere he has sought to absolve media images of extremely thin women of their hypothesised causal role, via the internalisation of impossible ideals and promotion of body dissatisfaction, in the etiology of eating disorders. Instead he has pointed the finger at sexual selection and between-peer female competition for mates: ‘body dissatisfaction is conceived as an often functional response to a woman’s perceived bodily shortcomings.’ Anorexia and bulimia as ‘costly signalling’ indeed! He also has used evolution of the Pleistocene brain in the ancestral environment, etc. to explain the popularity of hyper-violent video games. This leads him, like Pinker, to pronounce on the violent proclivities of people before the domestication of plants and animals, and to sneer at the lily-livered weaklings who have renounced their ancestral birthright:
Much of the discussion of aggression in the social sciences began with an assumption that aggression is an inherently bad thing, both for the individual as well as for society as large… However, aggressiveness may also have positive benefits and indeed be evolutionarily adaptive, particularly in moderate amounts. Moderate aggressiveness may aid us in defending ourselves and our family, standing up for our beliefs, seeking high-status positions in society, developing leadership, excelling in sports and many careers, enduring hardships, etc. These are behaviors that increase social status and reproductive success. Indeed, some scholars have recognized that aggressiveness, particularly when allowed to be defined broadly, may have more positive qualities than negative…
The observation that aggression is an evolutionary adaptation which provides a selective advantage to those individuals who possess a moderate level of the trait is at odds with much of the lingo and dogma of social science across the latter 20th century. Historically it had been assumed that aggression and violence were learned behaviors, shaped largely by environmental influences including family and peers, but also media effects. Increasingly, evidence has demonstrated that this tabula rasa (i.e. blank slate) view of aggression has been mistaken and that there are strong genetic roots to aggressive and violent behaviour…
Humans, perhaps like many other creatures, find violent acts to be intrinsically rewarding and pleasurable. There are exceptions to this, of course (and perhaps those exceptions go on to become social scientists wedded to tabula rasa views of aggression), however there is little argument that violent media, and violent video games are overwhelmingly popular.
Butch declarations of a tolerance or taste for violence are also popular right now.
At this point, when Ferguson reads exactly and unpleasantly like Pinker, and sounds not a little like Rick Santorum, you may reasonably query my earlier assertion that self-described ‘progressives’ have any preference for one ahead of the other. Few left-liberals (especially those working in the humanities, where many of them dwell) will publicly confess a taste for bog-standard evolutionary psychology: just-so stories (and Ferguson repeats many of the most unsupported ones) in the service, in this case, of blatant industry apologetics (and of militarism).
I’ll have a go at providing an explanation in the next post. For the moment, though, note the close resemblance between Pinker’s spit-and-polish job on US belligerence, his political stance (Timothy Snyder’s review in Foreign Affairs describes the book’s argument as ‘rooted in Pinker’s commitment to free-market libertarianism’), and the arguments of industry shills willing to justify the administration of large doses of violence to audiences and consumers of entertainment products.
And consider the remark of the late philosopher G.A. Cohen, who until his death identified as a socialist. In ’A Truth in Conservatism‘, Cohen noted:
I join the ranks of the complainers down the ages who say: “Things ain’t what they used to be.”
Do not suppose that, because that lamentation is perennial, it’s misplaced. Anticonservatives say, “Oh, well, people have always said that things are getting worse”, and anti-conservatives mean thereby to convey that the conservative lamentation expresses an illusion. But it is entirely possible that at any rate certain kinds of things have always been worse than they were before.
Remember the wise Hungarian, who, upon being asked how things were going for him, said: “Oh, you know, things are about average. Not as good as yesterday, better than tomorrow.”























