A stark contrast

 

I am aware today of a stark contrast. This weekend, Jane and I led a retreat for our spiritual community focusing on study. We enjoyed a rich treat of deep conversations, honest self-disclosure, and spiritual support. Yet, lurking in the background for all of us was the war in Ukraine. In the comfort and safety of our homes (our retreats remain online for the time being) we enjoyed one another's company, aware that others had fled their homes and, for some, homes had been destroyed. A life of civility and safety had suddenly been violently disrupted. The news from Ukraine is patchy, as media is disrupted, but we fear the worst. 

During our retreat, at the back of my mind questions nagged away: what must it be like to face what Ukrainians are facing? How would I cope? What would I do?

Some things are clear. I do not fully understand the geo-politics of the situation. I have incomplete information. I cannot truly imagine how I would feel if I were there. I write my thoughts a safe distance from the turmoil and fighting.

Something else is clear for me. For almost forty years I have been developing an understanding of the prevalence of human violence and what a nonviolent response to violence might look like. In my book published last year Pragmatic Nonviolence: Working Toward a Better World (Leiden: Brill, 2021) I suggest that: 

Nonviolence is a practice that, wherever possible, seeks the well-being of the Other by refraining from violence and acting according to lovingkindness

My claim is that if we developed nonviolence in our interpersonal day-by-day interactions the world would be a better place. If nations developed nonviolence strategies rather than resorting all too easily to lethal violence the world would be a better place. By and large nations are doing better. Europe has not seen a war between the major powers for 77 years. Some call it "the long peace." Such is a major achievement, and the reluctance of NATO so far to intervene directly and militarily in Ukraine is, in part, an attempt not to break that long peace. Diplomacy, trade, and compromise are always preferable to war, for war is always unpredictable and tends to escalate. To tear down is easy. To build up is time-consuming and difficult. The missile destroys the bridge in a second. To rebuild the bridge takes months at best, and perhaps years.

What would lovingkindness look like for the people of Ukraine, for the people of Russia, for the military personnel of both nations? How might violence be restrained? Nonviolent resistance to, and non-cooperation with, an occupier is costly, but ultimately prevails. War is costlier, might prevail in the short term but ultimately fails. We do well to remember the nonviolent revolutions that ended the Soviet Union in 1989-91. Dictators come and go. Tyrannical regimes have a limited lifespan. For the past 500 years the world has been leaning toward—sometimes leaning back from—but in the end always leaning toward freedom. Nations now for the most part show reluctance to use military force in anger, to expand empires, to take someone else's land. The world response to Putin's war is testimony to that fact; as is so far a refusal to "send in the troops." That preference is given to economic and trade sanctions, diplomacy, and collective moral opprobrium is good; a sign of strength, not of weakness.

I do not know if I have personally developed sufficient courage to face what many are facing in Ukraine. By courage I don't mean courage to use violence but courage to exercise lovingkindness in the face of violence. 

For the moment, we anxiously watch the developing world situation and pray for de-escalation, wisdom for world leaders, and for peace.

Be kind today,

+Ab. Andy

Image at the head of this blog © James Fitz-Gibbon