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Winter 2001-2002
Issue 20

Life On A Limb-The Interview with Tre Arrow
by Miriam Green

The Challenge of Peace In Time of War
by Betsy Toll

My Father's Clouds: Commercialism in a Can
by John Borowski

Focus on America's Failed War on Drugs: DARE to Tell Your Kids the Truth Quandaries of a Thinking Parent
by "Mama" Sandee Burbank

In Search of a Prime Directive
by Brian Bogart

The Best Security: Make Sure Your Neighbors Are Happy
by Avishai Pearlson

Physicians' Perspective: Tolerance with Wisdom, Not Anger with Revenge
by Rick Bayer, MD

Dreams of Kindness, Love & Grace
by Carolyn Berry

Which Way to Bloomingdale's
by Erico

Dream Weaving-ReDreaming the Dream of Your Life
by David Lang

Leaving Home: People of Peace Stand Together
by Ness Mountain

 

Betsy TollThe Challenge of Peace in Time of War
by Betsy Toll

"We have yet to shape and clearly articulate, even for ourselves, a vision of peace defined not in relation to violence, but as an energetic and creative, vibrant, diverse, and engaging state unto itself."

As the heart-breaking news from New York sunk in on September 11, I was shattered. As I grieved I was chastened that such violent and enormous loss was required to bring home to Americans the urgency of the pain, frustration, injustice and rage simmering around the world at our intrusions and policies. I grieved that this incredible loss must happen to finally bring us to our knees and to our senses.

That afternoon, my teenage daughter wept in fear and anger. "Why did they do this to us? I hate them for doing this. I hope they die. It's the start of World War III," she sobbed. Seasoned by Viet Nam protests and numerous movements since then, I assured her she was wrong. "No, no, my darling, that isn't what this will mean," I replied. "This horrible violence will finally, finally wake us up."

Yet months later, bombs are falling, flags are waving and American ignorance and arrogance are in full bloom. With each new plane crash or power outage that winter brings, we will shudder fearfully and speculate darkly, and it feels like even with the enormity of Sept. 11, nothing really has changed at all.

Around me, friends question the validity of a philosophy of nonviolence in dealing with such madness. I point out that philosophy is not even the point. If we desire increased safety, and the rule of law and justice as opposed to terrorism to create a climate of international support and stability, then active commitment to non-violent strategies is the only obvious choice. Dropping bombs on a ravaged people who bear no responsibility for the Sept. 11 atrocities can only inflame seething resentment and legitimize retaliation. A pragmatic, strategic analysis leads directly to an energetic, just, non-violent response. This response would have moral clarity and garner international respect, support and inevitable success in reducing danger and moving us toward meaningful, sustainable peace.

Amid the rapidly rising tides of war, my increased immersion in the currents of peace has moved me to engage actively to expand this dialogue on the pragmatism of non-violence, and to support efforts for fundamental cultural change, even as I try to comprehend the horrific reality of geo-political warfare conducted both against me and in my name. In that regard, at the winter solstice celebration that my organization, Living Earth, sponsors each year, we will take contributions for UNICEF's refugee relief efforts, and also to support the courageous resistance and refugee work of RAWA, the Revolutionary Afghan Women's Association.

Moral purity is hard to come by. It is challenging to note that on their website, RAWA indicates possible support for certain military actions (strategic commando raids, for example) against the Taliban, and affirm their undying hatred of fundamentalism anywhere. Yet as I read of their dedication and fearlessness I am challenged by glimpses of life that I can barely stand to even imagine. Were I to suffer the barbarity, brutality and madness that Afghan women and girls confront every day, I cannot imagine that I would have RAWA�s astonishing courage. I also cannot be sure I might not be driven to their pain-born views that allow violence against the perpetrators of their suffering.

It is comfortable for me to think my time-honed commitment to nonviolence would hold all life sacred under any conditions, that I would renounce all violence under even the most horrific circumstances. Yet I cannot afford the sanctimony required to judge others who have been steadily, systematically and savagely wounded beyond human tolerance. The fundamental contradiction, of course, is that peace cannot come from violence, now or ever. Philosophy notwithstanding, RAWA's work is radically courageous, and overwhelmingly focused on providing bare survival help to the flood of refugees, and we will offer as much support as we can.

Peace activists hear all too often these days that non-violence is equivalent to playing dead, or that, as one flag-waver spit at my husband recently, "peace is death." After digesting that epithet for a moment, I realized the man had a point, though perhaps not the one he intended.

The pallid vision that has come to be associated with "peace" does look a lot like flat-lining. It's a rather dull version of a Sunday school heaven or a medicated psych unit: no bright colors, no rambunctiousness, no loud noises, only pastel homogeneity, calmness, maybe soft ethereal music: peace as death, or near-death, anyway. In this vision, peace is a total absence of energy, dynamism, exuberance, responsivity, and vitality, all qualities that are common positive references when people talk of their experiences in war or wartime. There must be room in a world at peace for brilliant colors, thundering rivers, crashing tambourines, howling winds, cacophonous birdsong, and exuberant human-song as well.

So, in such a dangerous time as this, with so much adrenaline and headiness about patriotism and belonging, danger and fear, how do we define peace other than as the absence of conflict? How do we define peace on its own terms in a meaningful, credible and compelling way? And how do we include in that definition strong, pro-active means of responding to conflict, including violent attacks, in effective and non-violent ways?

We have yet to shape and clearly articulate, even for ourselves, a vision of peace defined not in relation to violence, but as an energetic and creative, vibrant, diverse, and engaging state unto itself. Communicating that vision effectively beyond ourselves will be the next challenge. Countless skillful, creative, and visionary individuals have been working across disciplines for years defining various aspects that will ultimately be integrated into this vision: economists, ecologists, systems thinkers, the labor and social justice movements to name a few. The monumental challenge presented now to each of us is to increase our partici-pation in the cultivation and expression of that vision, and in forging links between the innumerable disparate and multicolored threads that in time will be woven together into the whole-cloth of a world that is truly and vibrantly at peace.

Betsy Toll is director of Living Earth: Gatherings for Deep Change. Living Earth is committed to empowering non-violent activism, nurturing awareness of interdependence, and cultivating deep cultural change. She hopes to stimulate a much-needed dialogue among progressives and "cultural creatives" aimed at formulating dynamic visions of meaningful, sustainable peace. Living Earth's 4th annual Winter Solstice Celebration is scheduled for Dec. 15 at the Friend's Meeting House in Portland. For info: 503-772-2636 or livingearth@earthlink.net.

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