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The
Trappist monk Thomas Merton brought a special gift to American social
struggles: contemplation. Faced with the burnout of so many young people,
veterans of the civil rights and then the anti-Vietnam war efforts, Merton,
while not himself an activist, brought an uncanny appreciation of the
spiritual hemorrhaging that endless interventions caused. From the invidious
split between people who pray and people who act, was born a new, integral
person, who prays and acts with a harmonious balance between them. This
ground-breaking article was first published as an FOR pamphlet. Merton
died a year later in 1968.
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Nonviolence is perhaps the most exacting of all forms
of struggle, not only because it demands first of all that one be ready
to suffer evil and even face the threat of death without violent retaliation,
but because it excludes mere transient self-interest from its considerations.
Those who practice nonviolent resistance must commit themselves not to
the defense of their own interests or even those of a particular group:
they must commit themselves to the defense of objective truth and right
and above all of human beings. Their aim is then not simply to prevail
or to prove that they are right and the adversary wrong, or to make the
adversary give in and yield what is demanded.

July-August 1979
cover drawing by
Naomi Camilleri.
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Nor should nonviolent resisters be content to prove
to themselves that they are virtuous and right, that their hands and heart
are pure even though the adversary's may be evil and defiled. Still less
should they seek for themselves the psychological gratification of upsetting
the adversary's conscience and perhaps driving that person to an act of
bad faith and refusal of the truth. We know that our unconscious motives
may, at times, make our nonviolence a form of moral aggression and even
a subtle provocation designed (without our awareness) to bring out the
evil we hope to find in the adversary, and thus to justify ourselves in
our own eyes and in the eyes of "decent people."
Christian nonviolence is not built on a presupposed
division, but on the basic unity of humankind. It is not out for the conversion
of the wicked to the ideas of the good, but for healing and reconciliation.
Let us, however, seriously consider at least the conditions for relative
honesty in the practice of Christian nonviolence.
- Nonviolence must be aimed above all at the transformation
of the present state of the world, and it must therefore be free from
all occult, unconscious connivance with an unjust use of power. This
poses enormous problems, for if nonviolence is too political it becomes
drawn into the power struggle and identified with one side or another
in that struggle, while if it is totally apolitical it runs the risk
of being ineffective or at best merely symbolic.
- The nonviolent resistance of the Christians who belong
to one of the powerful nations and who are themselves in some sense
privileged members of world society will have to be clearly not for
themselves but for others, that is for the poor and underprivileged.
(Obviously in the case of Negroes in the United States, though they
may be citizens of a privileged nation, their case is different. They
are clearly entitled to wage a nonviolent struggle for their rights,
but even for them this struggle should be primarily for truth itself
- this being the source of their power.)
- In the case of nonviolent struggle for peace - the
threat of nuclear war abolishes all privileges. Under the bomb there
is not much distinction between rich and poor. In fact, the richest
nations are usually the most threatened. Nonviolence must simply avoid
the ambiguity of an unclear and confusing protest that hardens the war-makers
in their self-righteous blindness. This means that in this case above
all nonviolence must avoid a facile and fanatical self-righteousness,
and refrain from being satisfied with dramatic self-justifying gestures.
- Perhaps the most insidious temptation to be
avoided is one which is characteristic of the power structure itself:
this fetishism of immediate visible results. Modern society understands
"possibilities" and "results" in terms of a superficial
and quantitative idea of efficacy. One of the missions of Christian
nonviolence is to restore a different standard of practical judgment
in social conflicts. This means that the Christian humility of nonviolent
action must establish itself in the minds and memories of modern people
not only as conceivable and possible, but as a desirable alternative
to what they now consider the only realistic possibility; namely, political
technique backed by force. Here the human dignity of nonviolence must
manifest itself clearly in terms of a freedom and a nobility which are
able to resist political manipulation and brute force and show them
up as arbitrary, barbarous, and irrational. This will not be easy. The
temptation to get publicity and quick results by spectacular tricks
or by forms of protest that are merely odd and provocative but whose
human meaning is not clear, may defeat this purpose.
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December
1975
cover drawing by
Paul Peabody.
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The realism of nonviolence must be made evident
by humility and self-restraint which clearly show frankness and open-mindedness
and invite the adversary to serious and reasonable discussion.
Instead of trying to use the adversary as leverage
for one's own effort to realize an ideal, nonviolence seeks only to
enter into a dialogue in order to attain, together with the adversary,
the common good of everyone. Nonviolence must be realistic and concrete.
Like ordinary political action, it is no more than the "art of
the possible." But precisely the advantage of nonviolence is that
it has a more Christian and more humane notion of what is possible.
Where the powerful believe that only power is efficacious, the nonviolent
resister is persuaded of the superior efficacy of love, openness, peaceful
negotiation, and, above all, of truth. For power can guarantee the interests
of some, but it can never foster the good of all. Power always protects
the good of some at the expense of all the others. Only love can attain
and preserve the good of all. Any claim to build the security of all
on force is a manifest imposture.
Christian nonviolence, therefore, is convinced that
the manner in which the conflict for truth is waged will itself manifest
or obscure the truth. To fight for truth by dishonest, violent, inhuman,
or unreasonable means would simply betray the truth one is trying to
vindicate.
A test of our sincerity in the practice of nonviolence
is this: are we willing to learn something from our adversaries? If
a new truth is made known to us by them or through them, will we accept
it? This is important. If they see that we are completely incapable
of listening to them with an open mind, our nonviolence will have nothing
to say to them except that we distrust them and seek to outwit them.
Our readiness to see some good in them and to agree with some of their
ideas (though tactically this might look like a weakness on our part),
actually gives us power: the power of sincerity and of truth. On the
other hand, if we are obviously unwilling to accept any truth that we
have not first discovered and declared ourselves, we show by that very
fact that we are interested not in the truth so much as in "being
right." Since adversaries are presumably interested in being right
also, and in proving themselves right by what they consider the superior
argument of force, we end up where we started. Nonviolence has great
power, provided that it really witnesses to truth and not just to self-righteousness.
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