Course Description

The conventional story on war- and peacemaking almost always speaks of great deeds by Great Men. It tells how genius generals win wars and how skillful diplomats strike peace deals; how heroic soldiers fight and how selfless peacemakers unite; and, crucially, how wars end where peace begins and vice versa. Inspired by Tolstoy’s narrative of war as an assemblage of serendipity and chance, this course will look at war/peace beyond the lens of rationality and of strategic interests. Following Latour’s reading of Tolstoy, it will introduce a less anthropocentric and – hopefully - more pluralistic perspective by allowing other actors to make peace/war, such as UN reports and US drones, reconciliation workshops and surveillance techniques, etc. Building on Foucault’s inversion of Clausewitz, it will explore war as a general grid through which modern society can be analyzed even – and especially - during so-called peacetime.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Vincent Le - Entry n. 1 (War and Peace)


Class 2: War, Peace and History by Vincent Lê

In the Epilogue to War and Peace, Tolstoy argues that history should be a scientific study into the real causes of social formations and transformations. Apropos traditional historicities, then, Tolstoy rejoins that history is caused neither by the exceptional wills of great men such as Napoleon; nor by the same great men as the singular embodiments of collective and popular Wills; nor by the clash of these great men with equally great intellectual productions, such as Robespierre’s reading of Rousseau’s Du Contrat Social. Such historicities are mere modernizations of ancient theologies of God as human history’s Prime Mover. As such, all historicities hitherto, whether ancient or supposedly modern, simplify and mask the complex multiplicity of heterogeneous but interacting agents that assemble together to overdetermine the totality of the causes of historical events and situations. For instance, although Napoleon is praised as the singular driving force of the Napoleonic Wars, Tolstoy points out that information from the warfront was already out of date by the time it reached Napoleon’s headquarters. Consequently, by the time Napoleon’s chain of commands got back to the battlefield, his soldiers had been overtaken by new circumstances and chose to ignore his orders. By undermining traditional historicities of great men and mythic, causal Wills in this way, Tolstoy emancipates the full multitude of actors, namely the masses of people, as the true driving force of social morpthodynamics.

Homologously, in ‘Tolstoy and Tahrir’, Greer demonstrates that even though the single spark of Mohamed Bouazizi’s self-immolation did start a prairie fire by mobilizing millions of protesting Egyptians, this assemblage of wills ultimately forced history in directions quite different from those Bouazizi himself had willed. For it was only the Egyptian masses, previously reduced to the statistical turnouts of technocratic polls and rigged elections, whom ultimately emerged as historical actors by overthrowing Hosni Mubarak, one of history’s so-called great makers. And all without substituting one ‘exceptional’ man with another, or a party, or a parliament, or a trade union, or any other centralized organ to (mis)represent their will. Amidst the Egyptian revolution’s overdetermination by the masses, it would come as little surprise to Tolstoy that some Western historicists (read: theologians) pursued the technocratic embodiment of the popular Egyptian will via virtual matrixes such as Facebook and Twitter.

Tolstoy goes even further, however, when he argues for a decentering of all humans, whether great or small, as, not the sole entity privileged with agency, but merely one type of causal agent upon the historical field, which is ultimately determined in the last instance by chance and fortune. As such, it was neither Napoleon himself, nor his people, but the tide of historical facticity that functioned as the final determining factor in sweeping Napoleon into power in spite of the mass republican will against him, as well as eventually ebbing him into history’s dustbins despite his own singular will against his fate. And was it not also Bouazizi’s circumstantial factors beyond his own choosing, such as being laid off from his job and losing his home, when combined with his chance encounter with a female police officer who slapped him in the face, which ultimately sparked the Egyptian prairie fire? Whereas earlier Tolstoy established that all humans have in themselves the freedom to make history, he now qualifies that such freedom is always constrained and determined in the last instance by the facticity given to us by our particular historical conjuncture. In other words, when misfortune befell Bouazizi, he was free to choose to endure or to die, although the facts of his situation were clearly compelling him toward the latter possibility. As Greer explains by way of Tolstoy, man’s freedom, ‘his personal life’, does not exist in a vacuum all by itself, but is always-already caught up in the network of his ‘swarmlike life’ that is determined in the last instance by the structural sea of historical necessity. In the last analysis, what Tolstoy and Tahrir Square evince is that anyone, indeed anything, can make history, even if we do not know that we can, and even if we may only do so out of conditions which are not of our own choosing. …

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