In a famous Italian war song, soldier Piero is walking on the frozen Alpine slopes when he sees a man in the distance. A man who is carrying the very same gloomy thoughts as Piero is, but who is wearing a uniform of a different colour. The singer's voice incite Piero to shoot him quickly: If you're quick, he won't even realize he's dying, sings the song. Yes, replies Piero, But I'll have the time to see the eyes of a dying man. The hesitation proves fatal: the enemy soldier sees Piero and doesn't return the courtesy.
The song is not very famous, at least not outside Italy, but the underlying paradox of human benevolence is as old as humanity itself. How could the human mind evolve to such a point as to create a special instinct for social exchange or even empathy? Game theory tries to create mathematical models to explain the combinatorial rules of this ancient syntax. Fencing plays them out.
To what point is it beneficial to me not to hit you? And if I don't, will you hit me in turn? These opposing impulses are inseparables from the body in which they are felt: they are also the base for engagement. Distance yields detachment, and yet it also creates the necessity for fast mind reading: this is the very base for empathy, even if it comes, like in fencing, from the edges of awareness.
Reading your opponent enables you to exploit and use. But it also has the opposite effect: in total contrast, it makes us able to empathize with them, as we see them as beings like ourselves. It is non verbal communication at its highest. It is also why fencing is so emotionally demanding: it requires the most subtle unconscious perceptions to govern our reactions, as well as synchronously match them with the appropriate measure of control. And all of this within 300-400 milliseconds, at levels beneath awareness. How Machiavellian is that?
Gianna