The summer has also given us a glimpse of social breakdown— mass murders in Norway shattering a determinedly peaceful nation; riots and looting in major British cities.
It has given pause for thought.
Pundits of all political stripes have been quick to point the finger. Most of it has been to repeat party slogans from already entrenched political positions, sniping over the parapet at the enemy.
Suggestions as to causes have been many. Solutions have been few and unimaginative.
It caused me to think again of the great tradition of love and nonviolence shared by Jesus, the Buddha, the Taoists. Surely, here is the solution? I think so, but not in any simplistic way.
When I teach nonviolence in philosophy classes, invariably someone raises a hypothetical case like: what about a killer attacking someone you love, or, what about the terrorist who has placed a bomb, has the information, and you have caught him? In such cases, violence is the solution. Kill the assailant. Torture the terrorist. This summer, the issue has been rather: the mass murderer in Norway, the thugs looting British cities ... Violence is the answer. Crack down hard. Arm the citizenry. The logic is compelling. Almost.
The problem with such cases is that by the time we get to thousands of youths rioting and looting, or a racists/fascist killing youngsters, as a society we have already "lost the plot." In those instances, there is no easy loving and nonviolent solution.
So in what ways can love and nonviolence help?
It helps in day to day simple and mundane caring and loving: living the example of Truth. In the Lindisfarne community we say, "To be as Christ to those I meet, to find Christ within them." This of course is time consuming, long-term. It is the work of youth-workers in Hackney and Manchester, of parents everywhere, of pastors and rabbis and imams. It is the work of new-monastics buried in the world as yeast in the flour.
Of course, there are no guarantees. As the truism says, "The good die young." (Jesus was in his early thirties.) Love is often rejected.
As I have pondered the social breakdown of this summer, my question has been, "What can I do?" For sure, I can't fix it. I can't bring back the Norwegian young people whose families grieve even as I write from the safety and beauty of our garden in Ithaca. I can't repair buildings burnt in rioting, or repair the trust broken in English communities.
But I can renew my commitment to love and nonviolence. I can set my face to the daily disciplines of the new monasticism. I can seek to be a different person, to live the life of the Realm of God. I can help to effect loving change in those areas where I have influence.
+Ab. Andy
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