Though I have some skepticism about Steve Pinker's book on the decline of violence (e.g.), I'm not sure John Gray's objections really hit the mark. As I understand Pinker's thesis, the best way to understand the 20th century is two-fold:

1. Though there are a number of events of noteworthy brutality, the overall frequency of those has declined, and there are fewer long-running lower-level instances of death-causing violence. It's a trope for people who study the 17th century, like myself, to note that the Thirty Years War is on an entirely different scale of destruction (at least in Germany) than either of the World Wars.

2. That the reason why we feel this to not be the case is, in part, because the norms of the world, most especially the developed world, have shifted decisively against violence in any form in the last hundred years, give or take.

Neither one of those points seems especially open to dispute, so far as I can tell. And part of point #2 really does have to do with the rise of sentimental theories of morality, and the ability to conceive of oneself as shorn from particular accidents of identity and so fundamentally like (rather than unlike) everyone else in the world, both of which are notable features of the 'Enlightenment,' broadly defined. (It may be true that these ideas existed even in medieval Christianity, which is certainly what I believe, but those medievals seemed remarkably uninterested in working out the implications of those beliefs until denominational difference and secularism began to be significant social problems.)

Now, none of that should be taken as support for any evolutionary claim Pinker may be trying to make (though I'd support a social construction claim), nor am I entirely convinced that his ancient historical data reflects reality and not some omitted variable, but like the tag will say: "modernity? not so bad"

It looks like there's going to be a film about the Tuskegee Airmen. Despite the fact that it looks a little cliché-ridden, I will still probably go to see it. When I was but a little whippersnap, 2nd grade or so, I had the chance to meet some of the Airmen, who came to my hometown for reasons I don't remember to give a talk. I was a young kid who was fascinated by military history and remember reading up the night before so I could ask a good question. Though I've forgotten large stretches of the talk, one of the Airmen mentioned that he'd been shot down and held in a German POW camp; since I had a great uncle who had also spent some time in a POW camp, I thought I'd ask about that. I remember him saying "I wish I could tell you they treated us well," as though he really wanted to say it but couldn't bring himself to, even for the sake of a kid who didn't know what he was asking about.

There are three or four key points in my life that sparked my interest in ethics and war, and that was certainly one of them.


(The others include a short article on Raoul Wallenberg that I want to say was in Boys Life but might've been in a National Geographic (needless to say Wallenberg is my favorite Michigan alumnus by far) and the anecdote from the documentary Shoah that is right at the beginning of "The Conract of Mutual Indifference," which convinced me to watch all nine hours of the film)