History of Violence

Edge.org has a video post (scroll to the bottom of that page) of Steven Pinker (my favorite linguist, although I’m behind on his books) discussing “A History of Violence” (he has a text version article on the same site; the video presentation was originally from TED.com). The basic premise is to debunk the notion that we live in increasingly violent times; he finds the exact opposite, relative to the broad sweep of history.

I found it interesting for two particular reasons: 1) in the climate of the Iraq war, the total violence is nowhere near as bad as previous wars, but the amount of coverage is exponentially more – even soldiers themselves are blogging and making videos. War truly has become reality TV – here’s a random youtube diary of a soldier there (from, of course, a TV show, but the footage is a soldiers own); 2) in discussing previous centuries and millenia, Pinker talks about the example of the OT wars (herem – peoples and cities reserved for destruction).

The herem of this biblical period has caused many people distress – Jews, Christians, and otherwise – for its ethical concerns. For those who wish to maintain the literal infallibility of the bible, they must construct a theology and context that allows God to literally order these acts while remaining just. Typically, such theology references all or part of the following: original sin (a concept disputed by much of Jewish theology), the sovereignty of God (another highly disputed concept in its nature and extent by Jews and Christians), justice of God, dispensationalism, and the resurrection.

Pinker’s reference to this issue reminded me of a book I read several years back entitled “The Authority of the Old Testament” by John Bright. Bright works to make the OT live in its own context, while still maintaining relevancy for the modern church. The herem simply does not work in the modern church, since that act would currently be classified as genocide by the Hague. The ethical implications of that are difficult to swallow in terms of “love your enemies,” so most Christians end up ignoring it (as most of the Jewish bible is ignored except for its character stories), or explain it away by one of the above arguments (sovereignty, dispensationalism, etc.). The problem is that no matter how one slices it, ethics becomes either (or both) capricious (sovereignty) or relativistic (dispensationalism).

Bright’s solution is to not take these herem directives as literally ordered by God, but instead as a reflection of ancient culture (wholesale slaughter of a culture was widely practiced in ancient society, so Israel was acting within its context) and one culture in particular trying to establish itself as a unique, monotheistic, theocratic society. It’s seem pretty evident from the context that these directives were not literally God-given, because they do not even match.

For instance, in Duet. 2:34 it states that at the battle Jahaz, “we captured all his cities at that time and utterly destroyed the men, women and children of every city. We left no survivor.” However, in Numbers 31:17-18 it orders, “Now therefore, kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known man intimately. But all the girls who have not known man intimately, spare for yourselves.” In one case, everyone is destroyed, in the other, the virgins are spared. There’s only one reason to keep the virgins – impregnate them. The harsh reality of ancient life was that life spans were about 40 years long (average), and infant mortality was atrociously high; wasting perfectly good child-bearers made no sense. From the perspective of the captured females, though, this amounted to – as Pinker calls it – rape.

This may seem too harsh of a judgment of God, but my point is if we want to not paint God in such a negative light, we need to stop putting such negative words and deeds into his mouth and hands. The Hebrew bible cannot be read so simply and one-dimensionally: that is, everything needs to be considered his words, his deeds, and it all needs to fit together like a 100,000-piece puzzle. Far too many people dismiss the bible because this simplistic approach is demanded by so many. This is why a genre specific and historically specific approach is required (what I argue for in a small example here).

Reading the bible in its historical context takes a great deal of effort, which is why so many avoid it. Arguing that it is in the purview of specialists won’t do, as it removes the responsibility we hold to have a faith that respects all human life: past, present, future, those we agree with, those we don’t, those who love us, those who hate us, those who understand us, those who despise us. Our faith is a direct reflection of the character of God, and we must think carefully about the claims we make of him.

It will do no good, I believe, to simply circle the wagons and demand that one is either for us or against us, based on a particular reading of the bible. I have had increasing trouble believing that we (I mean that very broadly, no particular subgroup of faith) have an absolute lock on our understanding of the Bible. Maybe I have read too much, or studied too much, but there is far too much variance of not only interpretation but the actual data itself, i.e., the biblical materials themselves in their historical context.

The proximate result of my argument is that I need to take each book on its own, and let it speak for itself, without the immediate need to force its harmonization with other books. That assumption is incredibly large and fraught with difficulty, in that it is built on a premise of absolute harmony between any two given books – why is this premise not challenged more? What two metaphysical, religious, spiritual books would one otherwise uncritically assume should align in every detail? I’m not arguing, carte blanche, that biblical books do not align; I’m simply not assuming it de facto.

The distal result is a work in progress. There are, necessarily, long-range effects on various parts of my personal beliefs and philosophy. I can’t fully articulate those as yet, but my hope is that my faith will be more clear to my own conscience, simple in its claims, and direct in its effects on my life.