Pacifism: exploring non-violence.

 Pacifism: exploring non-violence.

Introduction.

Quakers are known for their consistent repudiation of war. But times change. Wars change. Our understanding of heaven and hell changes. Do we need to re-think our readiness to fight (in defence of self, or others, or in defence of our commercial interests)? Not all Quakers affirm the peace testimony; some fought in the second world war. What follow are some of the thoughts that occurred to me.

Quaker Pacifism.

A principled refusal to fight under any circumstances, is the best known feature of Quakerism. The 'Quaker Peace Testimony' is clearly and forcefully expressed in many places, and by many witnesses. 

Thus, William Dewsbury wrote (in 1655) "And the word of the Lord came up to me and said, "put up thy sword into thy scabbard; if my kingdom were of this world, then would my children fight", which word enlightened my heart and discovered the mystery of iniquity, and that the kingdom of Christ was within, and the enem[y] was within, and was spiritual, and my weapons against them must be spiritual, the power of God." 

In 1693, William Penn wrote "A good end cannot justify evil means, nor must we ever do evil that good may come of it". 

Robert Barclay, in 1678, underlined the consistency of this pacifist stance with the direct teaching of Jesus in such gospel passages as: "Resist not evil", "Give also thy other cheek", "Love thine enemies" and  "Pray for those that persecute you and those that calumniate you". He could have added "Blessed are the peacemakers".  Yet many people who profess, as Christians, to follow the teachings of the "Prince of Peace", find themselves going to war, and praying to God for victory. 

However, Nietzsche scoffed at these teachings of Jesus, calling it slave morality by which meekness is elevated and nobility downgraded. I think many fellow Britons would agree with Nietzsche and would rather chance a fight than concede defeat without a struggle.

The refusal to fight with 'outward' weapons therefore runs right to the heart of what it is to be a Quaker. Do we respond to violence with violence, like the dominant type of savage human? Or do we avoid all (unnecessary) killing? Is war even good, for the species?

The two great wars of the 20th century brought home to millions of perfectly ordinary Europeans  these questions about the morality of war. The first World War seems to have been the devastating result of imperial pride. It quickly became obvious that the foot-soldiers on either side were being tricked  by their leaders into sacrificing their own lives and murdering their neighbouring brothers. Compulsory conscription was introduced in 1916. Some 16,000 (predominantly Quakers) sought exemption on conscientious grounds (political or religious). The majority were refused and were sent to prison. It took  courage, but the State did eventually recognise that there could be a conscientious refusal to fight. 

The second World War emerged from the nineteen thirties in much the same way as the first – as an imperial war. It was only at the end of the war that the moral depravity of the Nazi regime was unambiguously documented. Then (in retrospect) one might conclude that standing up to Hitler might have been the right thing to do.

In the present century, there have been, and still are, a surprising number of small wars in various parts of the world that do not demand, and largely escape, our notice: Syria, Yemen, Ethiopia, Myanmar, Sudan. Perhaps racial or religious wars, exacerbated by scarcity and population pressure.

However, several other wars of the present century are presented to us by our media as just wars.  We are encouraged to consider the crimes of the enemy regimes (whether of Saddam Hussain, Bashar al-Assad, or Vladimir Putin) sufficient to justify war. Or a sufficient threat to our own peace. We pay for shells and drones to kill Russians and Palestinians, thereby  stimulating those to kill Israelis and Ukrainians. Sincere moralists might still believe that there is such a thing as a just war; e.g. when the enemy is undeniably wicked, and the only way to stop his terror is by fighting him (and winning). Note, however, that we are only presented the case for our own side of the dispute, and a brief reflection will suggest that many of our 'enemies' appear to be equally convinced of the justice of their war aims. 

But what if there were an undeniably bad man with a bomb, or a delusional maniac with millions of brainwashed followers? How would we stop him? Would it really be wrong to fight him and his armies? Is the principle of non-violence absolute?

Is pacifism a survival strategy, or an admission of inferiority, or a claim to superiority? There seems to be a case for testing, and continually re-testing, the Quaker Peace Testimony.

Grounds for a policy of non-violence.

[1] "Peter: Put up again thy sword into its place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword". Matthew's text rather argues that violence is dangerous to the perpetrator, particularly if you are outnumbered.

[2] There is a visceral, unthinking, reluctance to spill blood, and to take a life. This could be seen as a squeamish objection to war. 

[3] One is loath to harm family, and friends, and by extension anybody with whom one can empathise, and who we can see as a friend. (This thought doubtless occurred to many soldiers in no-man's-land, on Christmas Eve 1914.)

[4] The 'Gandhi tactic': take possession of the moral high ground. Passive resistance, in a very public but harmless way, can show strength of feeling against a powerful minority. (This method of winning requires the foe to have some awareness of morality, which doubtless covers most cases, but maybe not all. )

[5] The 'Margaret Fell' position which might be paraphrased as 'We Quakers do not pose a threat. We combat, but not with outward weapons.'

[6] The 'Ranyard West' position. We shall always misjudge the rights and wrongs of a dispute if we are a party to it. Force may often be necessary but that can only be decided by an independent entity like the United Nations.) By this standard, the Kuwait war of 1990, was legal; the Iraq war of 2003, criminal. 

[7] The 'William Penn' position: that the 'collateral death' of a single innocent non-combatant is an unacceptable, criminal, action. 

[8] The position of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane: to teach a new morality he took possession of the high ground at the expense of his own life. Did he choose to die and be remembered rather than to live and be forgotten?

By what principles do we wish to be judged?

Are we trying to be intelligent, sympathetic, modern citizens? 

Or are we building a new Jerusalem, accepting the whole prescription that Jesus laid out for us: a community of equals, based on love, co-operation, sharing of goods, caring for the needy, binding up the wounded, forgiving and being forgiven; trying to persuade others that we have found The Truth and are in the process of creating for ourselves heaven on earth?

Or are we going to listen more to our feelings, as guidance from our true nature, eschewing what make us feel guilty and embracing what warms and gladdens us? 

By whom do we wish to be judged?  By ourselves, our families, our friends?   Who are our friends?

Conclusions.

I endorse grounds [1] to [7] above. I fully support the aim of creating the sort of world I would like to live in; i.e. 'heaven on earth'.  But I do not, for myself, feel called on to follow Jesus the whole way. I think that survival is our ultimate duty 

My father (Ranyard West) taught that, inside a civilized country, a police force is necessary to control rebel elements; so also in a civilized world to control strife between nations. But even that force need not involve killing. (Note that civilised countries no longer exact the death penalty of their criminal citizens.)

To postulate a rogue state with no moral sense is merely to hypothesise; such a state may not exist.

Try first the route of friendship and understanding. Try also the route of arbitration. Retain the 'moral high ground', by avoiding that which make one feel guilty. Make sure that others know your moral preferences. Avoid being misled by your own leaders into actions that are both criminal, and damaging to millions of innocent bystanders. Make sure your leaders know your position in good time, so that their policy is not decided in haste and in error. 

An attempt to accept passive defeat and affirm the absolute rejection of violence may be to attempt to leap an impossible, but also an imaginary, hurdle.  

Can this be called a Peace Testimony?