Consider violence. Violence is at times deplored, as in the actions of the criminals we lock up in prisons — the sadistic killer, the brutal rapist, the wife-beater, the child abuser. And it is sometimes celebrated, when we see soldiers defending our country, men defending their honor, tyrannical bullies getting what they deserved. Violence, it seems, is the most effective action when all other options are exhausted; so it is the ultimate in power. Or so it is perceived.

Actually, the fact that it is the most effective action when other options are exhausted means that violence is the ultimate expression of powerlessness. You do not attack someone physically if they offend you when you are strong; most likely you would brush off the slight. Violence enters the picture in situations of dire weakness; it is the behavior of a cornered animal fighting for his life.

Consider this, then: If the word “violence” generally refers to the extreme physical behavior, what term do we place on the attitude that underlies it, the sense of powerlessness? Crimes occur because they are acts of people who grasp at power while drowning in powerlessness; crimes are petty acts of domination. Why shouldn’t it be the powerlessness and not the violence that is addressed as the real problem?

Well, probably because all of us are invested in violence.

Aggression is a slippery slope. There are people who get really upset and express it loudly in word and deed — everything but the actual fist-in-stomach. Where’s the line between that and the guy who shoots you in the forehead? Where does violence end and nonviolence begin? What is nonviolence? Is the person who is yelling at me for stepping on their foot being nonviolent? What about the guy who honks his horn because I’m driving too slowly? What about the peace activists who loudly denounce the views of people who disagree with them?

There’s a very intelligent self-defense instructor and street philosopher whose website I stumbled across: Marc MacYoung, former gang member and street punk. According to him:

People who engage in violence without ever “stooping” to physical violence are not being pacifistic. In order to get their way, they are trying to control the degree of violence in which they participate.

So far, perhaps it seems that I’m denouncing the existence or expression of anger, which is the prime outward manifestation of violent aggression. I’m not. But in my own exploration, I’ve found that the root of anger is fear — and that fear is born of powerlessness.

Now consider the Game of Power, which I referred to in October. You play the Game essentially to dominate other people, or to prevent yourself from being dominated by others. Everyone has different goals — some play to maintain their role and nothing more; many play to get to the top; a few try to escape it. But in one form or another, it exists wherever there is a relationship between two or more people. Why? Again, because of powerlessness.

So, essentially: If we feel powerless, we play the Game to gain power. And conversely, if we play the Game, we feel powerless.

What has this to do with violence, you ask? Physical acts of violence are founded on powerlessness; it is an extreme manifestation of a much larger phenomenon. Aggressive acts that are not physically injurious also carry violent intent. Expand that idea, then, and it becomes clear that any act of domination is a form of violence because it places one in a position of power over another, and thus perpetuates powerlessness. Moreover, an act of domination is founded on the belief that one will not be powerful unless one dominates another.

Thus, the Game is a tremendous cycle of violence which has been well-masked to suit many different forms of people, but all moves in the Game have in common the intent to dominate — that is, after all, the definition of the Game.

Pretty intense, huh? I remember discussing the concept of “nonviolent” violence with my friend Glenn at Teaching Drum; at the time, I didn’t quite understand what was so violent about our society. I mean, there were definitely violent things about it — our treatment of the environment, of the poor, of criminals, of other races and religions. But we certainly don’t have murders and rapes occurring on every block in America; they are still the exception rather than the rule. So that’s cool, right? At least there’s no violence in my neighborhood. But that’s like the doctor decreeing that you’re in perfect health until you get sick enough to warrant a diagnosis. That was my ignorance, thinking that absence of violence was the same as peace. No, the truth is, we all live in a world of violence, overt or not.

But I realized something else lately: The only way not to play the Game is to play it. The most convenient way to be free of the Game is to be a hermit, but then you’re just avoiding it; all of the same issues will be there if and when you go back. As long as you live in society and aren’t enlightened –which is most of us, except for some rare few! — you have to play.

The good news is that the Game is actually a school — everything that happens is an opportunity to gain more personal power (power within self, as opposed to power over others). I’m currently reading a book called The 48 Laws of Power, which gives many interesting rules to follow and apply to your own life in order to gain power over others, or prevent others from dominating you. Something I’ve noticed is that many of the laws follow very closely to Toltec ideas of gaining power, while others are the direct opposite.

It is, I think, all in your intent. Those who play to win have as their intent total dominion of others. Those who play to transcend the Game have as their intent total inner peace and harmony with the world. Most of us fall somewhere in between. Many situations in life have potential to catapult you one way or the other, based on your intent; and many situations require the same skills to survive, whatever your intent. It’s like playing Monopoly: Everyone’s playing to win, those are the built-in rules; but within the rules, you could play ruthlessly to win, or just realize it’s a game and have fun with it — or you could use the opportunity to watch how winning or losing affect you and others, and learn some lessons from the observation.