Courage: The Politics of Life and Limb

3. Political Courage and Justice

three Political Courage and Justice Political Courage and the Problem of Violence Thus far courage has been explored in the context of war and­ battle. This exploration reveals a deep relationship between a warrior ’s courage and the love of honor. It also brings to light something deeper: in making himself martially courageous, man creates for himself moments of human possibility—possibilities of self-­ overcoming, fraternity, and transcendence. Making oneself courageous and sharing danger with one’s fellows opens the way to meaningful life in communities of shared cares and responsibilities. In addition, the recreation in civic life of beneficial habits associated with martial courage makes martial courage consistently and deeply appealing in the course of human affairs. The honorable and selfless neighbor, after all, is always more appealing than the dishonorable and selfish. The courageous man is always better than the coward. There is, however, another way to look at martial courage and the love of honor. Insofar as martial courage is inextricably bound up with warriors and honor, it is also bound up with violence. As Jean G. Peristiany correctly observes, “It is not possible to read 83 84  Courage about honor and shame . . . without making frequent mental excursions and involuntary comparisons with the gesta of chivalry, with school gangs, with street corner societies, etc.”1 In other words, it is easy to imagine noble deeds for the sake of honor and fraternity, or heroes dying gloriously for the sake of friends and family, but it is just as easy to imagine petty thugs violently prosecuting the smallest of insults. One can think of a samurai slicing a peasant in half for making eye contact, men performing honor killings of “besmirched” sisters, and so on. Despite the self-overcoming, transcendence, fraternity , and meaningful community associated with martial courage , one must also recognize that it is bound up with the human capacity for violence and destruction. The association of martial courage and violence, it must be understood , is not arbitrary or episodic. Honor is, on principle, violent. In honor cultures, offences must be redressed, and redress is almost always violent. Redeeming honor needs violence because the stain of dishonor requires blood for its cleansing. This does not mean the offender needs to be killed—this is but a modern bastardization of an old code—but where dishonor pertains, the appearance of blood is necessary for “satisfaction.” According to Johan Huizinga, this blood aspect of revenge and redress is elemental. In the duel, for example , “it is the shedding of blood and not the killing that matters. We can call it a late form of ritual blood-play, the orderly regulation of the death-blow struck unawares in anger. The spot where the duel is fought bears all the marks of a play-ground; the weapons have to be exactly alike as in certain games; there is a signal for the start and the finish, and the number of shots is prescribed. When blood flows, honour is vindicated and restored.”2 Apologies are insufficient in honor cultures. Honor requires blood, and the drawing of blood, of course, requires real, empirical violence. Julian Pitt-Rivers claims that “satisfaction may be acquired through an apology which is a verbal act of self-humiliation or it may require, and if the apology is not forthcoming does require, avenging. To leave an affront unavenged is to leave one’s honour in a state of desecration and this is therefore equivalent to cowardice. Hence the popularity among the mottos of the aristocracy of the theme of nemo me impune lecessit (no man may harm me with impu- Political Courage and Justice   85 nity).”3 An apology, however, never fully bleaches the stain of dishonor because this form of redress requires the insulted to allow a diminishment of his prestige. It moves the offended in the right direction , but accepting a “mere” apology casts suspicion on one’s character. It diminishes one’s prestige because one will be suspected as too cowardly to do what really needs to be done—to draw blood. Redressing an insult thus goes beyond the particular insult. As PittRivers puts it, “The satisfaction by which honour was restored was something more than personal satisfaction, for it was accorded by the appeal to the test of courage regardless of the outcome. The duel [for example] finished the matter; the quarrel could not honourably be prosecuted thereafter, either by the contestants...