‘War and Peace’

Inside the Peace Corps office in Georgetown is a Volunteer lounge where we can hang out if we happen to find ourselves spending time in the Guyanese capital. It’s a luxurious setting, with computers, a wireless connection for high-speed internet access, really comfortable couches and chairs, our mailboxes, and glorious, glorious air conditioning. And to sharpen our mental faculties, there are walls covered in bookshelves stocked from the excess weight previous Volunteers have shed from their luggage before departing the country. So far I’ve read a dozen of these orphaned volumes, most recently ‘War and Peace’ written by Leo Tolstoy in 1869. Every time I sat in the lounge I found myself staring at the massive spine of this sprawling 1,408-page book. And it stared back at me smugly, mocking me, and making everyone in the room feel uncomfortable from the tension between us. That is until a couple of weeks ago, when I finally pried it off its lofty perch and dove into the story ensconced beneath its tattered covers.

Tolstoy interweaves the narratives of hundreds of characters, both fictional and historical, into a portrait of life for the Russian nobility during the Napoleonic Wars at the beginning of the 19^th century. To add heft to this doorstop of a book, he also includes extensive philosophical musings about the nature of history’s course, whether leaders are responsible for creating history or just dragged along by it and, of course, a contemplation of the concept of free will. The result is a surprisingly absorbing novel (although Tolstoy would have contested describing it as a novel) that pulls you in like Lost (and ends in much the same way…)

Some of the topics Tolstoy philosophizes about (especially in the final 100 pages of the book, where the story ends rather abruptly and is replaced by a repetitive rant about the nature of history) actually touch on themes related to serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer. These include: 1) the contingency of one historical event on other events that preceded it, 2) the continuity of history, and 3) deemphasizing the individual’s role in shaping history and assigning that role instead to the collective decisions of large numbers of people.

Contingency (Well, that depends…)

Contingency is a fancy way of saying that one event is influenced by the events that precede it. In other words, the course that history can take is limited by history itself. Tolstoy writes,

“If I examine something I did a moment ago in virtually the same circumstances that I am still in, there can be no doubt that my action appears to have been free. But if I start to pass judgement [sic] on something I did a month ago, now that my circumstances have changed I am bound to recognize that if that deed had not been done many of its beneficial, agreeable and even inevitable consequences would never have taken place. And if I allow memory to take me back even further to something I did ten years ago or more, the consequences of my actions are even clearer but it will be difficult for me to imagine what might have happened if it had not taken place. The further back I go in memory, or, to put it another way, the longer I postpone judgement [sic] of my action, the more dubious my view of its freedom becomes.”¹

In other words, choices I’ve made in the past have influenced the spectrum of choices available to me right now, but I can only realize that fact if I look far enough into my past. Taking this a step further, choices made before my birth also have implications for the possible trajectory of my life. Free will is apparently less free than one would imagine.

In my own life, I’ve seen contingency play out in a dramatic way. In 2004 I had been accepted into Northern Arizona University, where I planned to study vertebrate paleontology (dinosaurs- think of the character, Ross, from Friends) in the geology department. The sudden death of my stepfather caused me to change course and stay in Illinois, where I enrolled at Northern Illinois University instead. I still majored in geology, but rather than study dinosaur fossils I learned about microscopic fossils called diatoms, which could be used to reconstruct the climate of Antarctica over tens of thousands and even millions of years. The man who introduced me to this fascinating area of research, Dr. Reed Scherer, eventually became my doctoral advisor, leading me further down the new path my decision had laid out before me. My academic life took an interesting turn that it might not otherwise have if I had gone to college in Arizona. It was also at Northern Illinois University that I met my lovely wife, who is now serving with me in the Peace Corps in Guyana! Both meeting my wife and studying climate science in graduate school were contingent on my decision to attend college in Illinois rather than in Arizona.

Just as an individual’s life is shaped by its past, the path followed by a country is shaped by its own history. Citizens of one country may respond differently to world events than citizens of another country, purely because the event is perceived through a different cultural or historical lens. For example, Guyana is smaller and less developed than the United States, which means that it has contributed substantially less to greenhouse gas emissions than the U.S. However, Guyana has extensive virgin rainforest cover that can help trap greenhouse gases. Conserving the forests and developing them in a sustainable way can safeguard an important natural resource for the country. On the other hand, clear cutting the rainforest may provide financial benefits that boost development in the short-term, but over the long haul it would destroy the resource as well as contribute to the accumulation of greenhouse gases in Earth’s atmosphere. Therefore, while the U.S. can make its biggest impact on reducing greenhouse gases by cutting the rate of emissions, Guyana can make a bigger impact by conserving its forests (which it is doing as part of a Low Carbon Development Strategy in partnership with Norway). History and geography have influenced how each country approaches the solution to the problem of controlling greenhouse gases in the atmosphere.

Continuity (Another day older and deeper in debt…)

Continuity is the almost imperceptible accumulation of changes over time. Continuity and contingency are interrelated, but continuity deals more with the slow drift of a life’s course, while contingency describes the effect that singular decisions (like deciding to attend one university over another) have on someone’s life. To understand continuity, first think of who you were as a 12-year old. What was important to you? What kinds of problems did you have? Now think about who you were at 22-years old. Were the same things important? Did you have the same problems? (Hopefully not!) Now try to identify the precise moment when you changed from the 12-year old you to the 22-year old you. You can’t, because from one day to the next there is very little observable change. Each day shades into the next, and it’s only when you compare slices of life separated by substantial time that you can recognize how dramatically you’ve changed.

Just as daily events accumulate imperceptible changes to mold an individual’s life, this same slow drift of changes can shape the culture of a country. It takes time and practice to recognize how often you misunderstand things you observe in a new culture purely by viewing them through your own cultural lens.

Deemphasizing the Individual (Get over yourself!)

Tolstoy goes into great detail about how leaders fool themselves into thinking that they are controlling the course of history, when, in fact, they are merely acting as the face of a historical trend that would have happened with or without them. He goes on to say that everyone has an opinion about current events, and that ultimately history is written by the person or people who guessed correctly what would happen in the future. Someone always guesses right, but not because they’re geniuses, rather because they just happened to get it right once or twice. These people come to be viewed as leaders, but once they start guessing wrong, which inevitably comes to pass, the spotlight shifts to someone else and history moves on. Perhaps that’s why power is fleeting: Individuals become the face of a movement and eventually come to believe that they are controlling the direction of events. As soon as they consciously try to steer events one way or another, history moves down its own path, leaving the “leader” behind to wonder what happened to their power. In Tolstoy’s mind, therefore, history is directed more strongly by the collective actions of vast multitudes of people rather than the chosen few who go on to be immortalized in history books.

There are any number of examples of leaders receiving too much credit (or blame) for shaping current events. It’s humbling and perhaps a little freighting to consider just how little can be done to stem the tide of history.

War and Peace Corps

My Peace Corps experience thus far has touched on each of these philosophical ideas brought up in Tolstoy’s ‘War and Peace.’ While serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I find it important to remember that historical contingency and continuity have shaped my new surroundings differently than what I’m used to from home. I need to consciously remind myself to interpret the country through a Guyanese lens; what seems perfectly logical to me may not make any sense to the Guyanese way of thinking. Different historical events in each country influence decision making at both the individual and national level (contingency), while the day to day drift of ideas and concerns focuses public attention onto different issues in each country that are unique to the country’s history, geography, economy, etc. (continuity). Furthermore, as humbling as it is, with all the grandiose intentions we Volunteers bring to Peace Corps service, I’m also beginning to recognize the more limited impact I will be able to make in my community (deemphasizing the role of the individual).

Peace Corps Volunteers are sent off to other lands to affect change: to combat illiteracy, to teach English, to change public health practices, to help build critical infrastructure, etc. At the end of the day though, what determines success or failure is whether or not the people we are trying to help are open or willing to change. If they aren’t, than all the time, money, effort and good intentions in the world are not going to make a difference. If, on the other hand, people are hungry for change, Volunteers can serve as an important resource for the community and the country as a whole. It’s humbling to think that success as a Peace Corps Volunteer depends just as much on hard work and lofty aspirations as getting placed in a community that is ready for change. Because of this, I anticipate leaving Peace Corps service feeling less like the influential force for change that I dreamed about during the application process. Instead I’ll be more like a drop of water swirling around in an eddy within the vast ocean that is the social fabric of Guyana. That’s not to say that service will be pointless or unfulfilling, only that my perception of how change is affected will become more pragmatic. And hopefully, with that recognition, my efforts in Guyana will become more effective, I’ll grow as an individual, and I’ll have a whole set of contingencies to contemplate somewhere down the road…

¹ Tolstoy, Leo. War and Peace. Trans. Anthony Briggs. New York: Penguin Group, 2006, 1348.

The Peace Corps office is in nondescript building located on a side street in the northwest corner of Georgetown. Without the metal sign glinting in the tropical sunshine, there would be nothing to make this building stand out. Most of Georgetown is like this. There are very few buildings with ostentatious façades or eye-catching store fronts; you have to take the time to enter a building to learn what lies within. One example is a café called Lily’s, which would be so easy to walk past without ever noticing. However, once you step inside, you’re treated to the sound of a small fountain providing the soothing sounds of flowing water, walls covered in artwork, and delicious, reasonably-priced café-style food (a must for a Peace Corps Volunteer). What is it about the country’s history or cultural outlook that makes the nondescript building such a prominent feature of the capital city?