In 1941, J. Glenn Gray received two letters in the mail. One was his doctorate, officially naming him a philosopher. The other was his induction from the U.S. military into the Second World War. He fought for four years in Europe and Africa, recording his thoughts in a journal and letters to friends, and years later he wrote this book reflecting on the experience.
To be sure, this is a book about war. But it is really much more; despite the misleading title, Gray's conviction is that the warrior lives within all of us, civilian or soldier. If you're looking for a WWII memoir, this isn't it. What you'll find is a deeply stirring philosophical meditation on war, love, death, freedom, history, religion, psychology, human community and friendship, the construction of meaning, guilt, dehumanization, the attractions of violence, and what it means to be human. The author never ceases to struggle through the tension between imagining a world without war, if such a thing is possible, and confronting humanity as a species that needs warfare to sustain its very vitality. Gray refuses to flatly condemn violence as something wholly irrational and undesirable. Instead, he grapples with the ways in which it renders our lives meaningful, giving us purpose and adventure, making passionate love possible, showing us aesthetic beauty and communal ecstasy, and allowing us to purge ourselves of our destructive impulses. The question he poses is -- can we find an activity through which to channel those impulses without violence? No easy answer is given.
One powerful insight Gray forces us to accept is the danger of what he calls "abstract hatred." He observes, counterintuitively, that the soldiers battling at the front possess the least enmity toward their enemy, whereas those directing the fighting from non-combat positions, or those not involved in the military at all, are the most bloodthirsty. This results in funny anecdotes where soldiers are shocked to receive letters from girlfriends back home urging them to kill as many Japs or Germans as possible in a "do it for me babe" fashion. The explanation for this discrepancy is that for non-combat observers of the war, the enemy is a mere abstraction, constructed through images, sentiments and ideas to form a one-dimensional picture. For soldiers in the thick of battle, conversely, the enemy is a concrete experience, leaving much less to the imagination. It's easy to hate what you can't see.
I am reminded of a survey taken during WWII in which 50% of the U.S. military responded that the entire Japanese nation should be wiped out after the war. Unmitigated genocide. However, those respondents in non-combat positions were more likely to advocate extermination than those actually fighting. The same pattern can be observed in genocides which become actual, such as in Bosnia and Rwanda, where the state had to bus people into ethnically mixed communities from the outside to carry out the bloodbath. This is despite popular stories of grassroots, organic violence with neighbors slaughtering neighbors as if possessed by madness. To pick a less violent example of the phenomenon, it only appears puzzling that the areas of the United States where immigrants are least likely to settle -- white, conservative, rural communities -- are also the most rabidly anti-immigration if you disregard abstract hatred. The same applies for Britain, where the neighborhoods least affected by Polish immigrants are the most opposed to Brexit.
I wrote down notes or copied quotes exceptionally frequently for this book; you won't go more than a few pages without passing upon some remarkable sentence or passage. Consequently, there's too many insights to write about here, but I would highly reccomend this book to anyone with an ounce of curiosity.