5 800110 005361
Saskia van Goelst Meijer
This dissertation studies nonviolence in the context of
Humanistic Studies, a multi-disciplinary academic field that
criticallly explores issues of (existential) meaning and
humanization; the personal and social aspects of 'good living'.
From this background this study focusses on contemporary
nonviolence, using this term not only to point to the absence
of violence, but to that which can take its place. Nonviolence
is thus understood as a substantive method to create societal
and interpersonal change, and even as a paradigm.
The aim of the study is twofold. Firstly to descern if it is
possible to understand nonviolence a concept independent
from specific cultural, religious or practical context. Secondly
to see if from such an independent notion it is possible to
develop a framework for analysis and practice.
The Gandhian understanding of nonviolence is the
startingpoint ot this study. However, many developments in
nonviolence theory and practice have taken place after
Gandhi. This dissertation studies the way Gandhian concepts
have caried over, and are changed and expanded by other
thinkers and practitioners and what remains the same.
From this search it is concluded that five basic elements
form the core of contemporary nonviolence: satya (truthseeking), ahimsa (non-harming), tapasya (self-suffering),
sarvodaya (the welfare of all) and swadeshi/swaraj (relational
autonomy). Together they point to a specific way of wielding
power called integrative power, which lies at the heart of
nonviolence.
Profound Revolution
Saskia van Goelst Meijer (1976) finished her
Masters degree in Humanistic Studies with a
thesis on Gross National Happiness, linking
existential questions and international
development. She is interested in
investigating the interface between questions
of personal meaning and social justice. She
obtained her PhD, with this dissertation on
contemporary nonviolence, and currently
works as Assistant Professor at the
University of Humanistic Studies in Utrecht.
Profound Revolution:
Towards an Integrated Understanding
of Contemporary Nonviolence
Saskia van Goelst Meijer
Profound
Revolution
Towards an Integrated
Understanding of Contemporary
Nonviolence
DOCTORAL DISSERTATION
drs. S.L.E. van Goelst Meijer
University of Humanistic Studies
Profound Revolution. Towards an Integrated
Understanding of Contemporary Nonviolence
Utrecht: Universiteit voor Humanistiek,
2015 – Proefschrift
NUR-code: 734
© Saskia van Goelst Meijer
Printed by Lulu.com
PROFOUND REVOLUTION:
Towards an Integrated Understanding of
Contemporary Nonviolence
DIEPGAANDE REVOLUTIE:
Naar een geïntegreerd begrip van hedendaagse
geweldloosheid
(met een samenvatting in het Nederlands)
PROEFSCHRIFT
ter verkrijging van de graad van doctor
aan de Universiteit voor Humanistiek te Utrecht
op gezag van de Rector Magnificus
prof. dr. G.J.L.M. Lensvelt-Mulders
ingevolge het besluit van het College voor Promoties
in het openbaar te verdedigen
op 26 augustus 2015 om 18.00 uur
door
Saskia Lissette Eelke van Goelst Meijer
geboren op 02 november 1976 te Amsterdam
Promotor
Prof. dr. Joachim Duyndam,
Prof. dr. Peter Derkx,
Universiteit voor Humanistiek
Universiteit voor Humanistiek
Beoordelingscommissie
Prof. dr. Christopher Key Chapple, Loyola Marymount University,
Los Angeles, USA
Prof. dr. Herman Noordegraaf,
Protestants Theologische
Universiteit, Groningen
Prof. dr. Guido Ruivenkamp,
Wageningen University &
Research Centre en Universiteit
voor Humanistiek
Prof. dr. Christa Anbeek,
Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam
en Universiteit voor Humanistiek
Persons in power should be very careful how they
deal with a man who cares nothing for sensual
pleasure, nothing for riches, nothing for comfort or
praise or promotion, but is determined to do what he
believes to be right. He is a dangerous and
uncomfortable enemy because his body, which you
can always conquer, gives you so little purchase
upon his soul.
Sir Gilbert Murray
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
XI
CHAPTER 1
Introduction:
Nonviolence, Research, Humanistic Studies
THERE IS NO WORD FOR IT
RESEARCH ON NONVIOLENCE
QUESTION AND METHOD
HUMANISTIC STUDIES
NONVIOLENCE AND HUMANISM
HUMANISTIC STUDIES AND NONVIOLENCE
OVERVIEW OF RESULTS
FIVE ELEMENTS
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
SUGGESTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH
3
3
7
12
15
16
23
29
30
41
43
CHAPTER 2
Humanization and Development:
Constructive Program as Structural Nonviolence?
HUMANIZATION
INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT
POST – DEVELOPMENT
MODERNITY(IES) AND STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
NONVIOLENCE
FIVE ELEMENTS
PRINCIPLE AND STRATEGY
CONSTRUCTIVE PROGRAM
INTEGRATIVE POWER
CONSTRUCTIVE PROGRAM AND MODERNIZATION
NONVIOLENT DEVELOPMENT?
UNDEVELOPING THE NORTH
ENDOGENOUS DEVELOPMENT
TOWARDS CONSTRUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT?
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
49
49
54
56
58
59
60
63
64
69
70
71
72
75
78
79
VII
CHAPTER 3
The Power of the Truthful: Understanding
Satya in Nonviolence Through the Work of
Gandhi and Havel
INTRODUCTION
GANDHI’S TRUTH
TRUTH TELLING IN WESTERN DISCOURSE
HAVEL’S STORY-LOGIC
CONSTRUCTIVITY
SATYA IN NONVIOLENCE
83
83
85
90
96
100
104
CHAPTER 4
For the love of all: Ahimsa in Nonviolence and
Radical Ecology
INTRODUCTION
RADICAL ECOLOGY
AHIMSA
GANDHI’S AHIMSA
AHIMSA AS AN ELEMENT OF NONVIOLENCE AFTER GANDHI
RELATING TO THE OTHER
109
109
114
120
122
126
129
CHAPTER 5
The Nonviolent Sacrifice: The Role Of Tapasya
In Nonviolence
INTRODUCTION
NONVIOLENCE
TAPASYA
TAPASYA IN NONVIOLENCE
INTEGRATIVE POWER
RENÉ GIRARD: MIMETIC DESIRE
JESUS’ SACRIFICE
THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS
TAPASYA AS NON-SACRIFICIAL SACRIFICE
ALAY DANGAL
135
135
137
139
140
144
146
148
149
153
156
CHAPTER 6
Interdependent Independence: Swadeshi/Swaraj as
Relational Autonomy in Nonviolence
INTRODUCTION
SWADESHI
VIII
161
161
164
SWARAJ
RELATIONALITY
NVR
SWADESHI/SWARAJ IN NONVIOLENCE
170
172
176
182
SUMMARY
187
SAMENVATTING
199
RESOURCES
215
CURRICULUM VITAE
235
SAMENVATTING
237
IX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Taking a moment to think about who have been part of
the project over the years makes me realise just how
lucky I am and how the cliché that it takes a village (to
do basically anything of value) is quite true.
If it were not for the work of Michael Nagler who's
amazing books and classes on nonviolence were the
start of my engagement with the topic, this dissertation
would not have existed. Michael, your work and that of
everyone at Metta, has exposed thousands of people
around the world to the subject of nonviolence in a
thought provoking way and with a constant call to
action. This project is one way in which I have
attempted to answer that call. Though I had to find my
own route, I hope I have done justice to the foundation
you provided and for which I am very grateful.
Of course, this project could also not have happened
without Joachim Duyndam and Peter Derkx becoming
my supervisors. I would like to thank them for all they
have done.
Writing your PhD can sometimes be a lonely
endeavour, and even though this project often felt like a
solo
journey,
many
people
offered
support,
encouragement and friendship along the way. My
colleagues Hanne Laceulle and Isolde de Groot had
XI
their own roads to travel but therefore understood the
ups and downs of such a journey very well. Isolde,
thank you for reminding me that it can actually be
done! Hanne, thank you for your unrelenting support
and friendship, even at the times that I was not able to
respond in kind. Your time will come soon, and I'm
cheering all the way!!
Ulla Jansz, thank you for providing incredible
support when it was most needed. You read everything
I sent you with interest and care, no matter how
unfinished it was and always came back with sound
feedback, valuable insights and much moral support. I
could not have finished it without you and now that I
have I hope we will still, at least once a year, enjoy a
good long walk together through purple fields!
Carmen Schuhmann, we have spent time together
at the UvH in different capacities over the years, first
as students and friends, then also as colleagues. I
cherish the depth and sincerity with which you
approach this odd but interesting and very valuable
field of ours. Thank you for being there whenever it was
needed most, both at and outside of the UvH, and for
joining me in studying nonviolence. You where there at
the start of this project and I hope we will dive into the
subject together many more times!
Hans Alma, we found more and more links in our
work over the years and got to know each other better
and better through joint projects, presentations and
trips. Thank you for all you have done to keep me
connected to humanistic studies and to provide me with
a space to continue my work. Now that we are close
colleagues I hope our friendship and joint interests will
keep on growing!
XII
In addition to academics, there is another aspect to my
life, taking place in Drenthe. At the end of a road, at the
end of a town, tucked away in a corner (litterally) of the
country, is were my home has been for the last five
years. Moving to Drenthe from what is known there as
'the West', was an adventure in itself. The start of my
new life was somewhat bumpy, but whatever happened,
I have been truly blessed throughout with the
community that I have landed in. All the neighbours at
the Nieuweweg, especially the families Habing,
Walda/Schipper, and Van der Werf have been
neighbours in the truest sense of the word. I often feel
empty-handed in comparison, and hope that I will be
able to find ways to reciprocate (although you will tell
me it's not necessary).
For one family especially, I find it hard to express
my gratitude in words (but of course I am going to try!).
Jolande, Kees, Tom and Arjan Duursma, and Jan too.
Everything above applies to you, and more… At the
most difficult moments you helped to make them more
bearable and in times of celebration you added to the
joy. Thank you for who you are, for what you do and for
all those countless times that you shared your
knowledge, your friendship, your tools, your car, your
horse, your broody hen, your kriegerties, your pallets,
your wine, your beer, your metworst, your boede, your
table, your home and your heart.
Living in two worlds is enriching and challenging at the
same time. Although for me their continuation is so
obvious it is sometimes difficult to explain one world to
XIII
another. I'm so glad that it was possible to make a
small attempt at bringing them closer together. For this
I have to thank my former 'buurwichie' Leonie van der
Werf. At the end of the book a translation of the
summary in the local dialect of (South-Eastern) Drenthe
is added. Living in Drenthe means living with and in the
local language since language, locality and identity are,
as in many other places, closely connected.
Surprisingly or not, it turned out to be quite possible to
express 'formal university stuff' in a language that is
often considered (by speakers and non-speakers alike)
to be merely colloquial. It has brought me much joy to
see this translation come into being and I hope that the
two worlds that mean so much to me can through it be
a bit more opened to each other. A heartfelt thank you
goes to Leonie for making this happen. She put a lot of
care, time and effort (carved out from her already very
busy life) into this project. I hope (and am quite sure)
that the new job she will soon start will provide her
with many more opportunities to cherish and teach
others the value of being multi-lingual within your own
country.
I feel also blessed that my life in Drenthe is filled
with many more people besides the neighbours, who all
give it colour, substance, and joy. They are too many to
be named here individually, but you know who you are!
However, three of them need to be mentioned
especially:
Ida te Lindert and Wim Heusinkveld provided a
warm home away from home, though still close by, at
the Maanhoeve when I needed it. This helped me to get
back on my feet as soon as was humanly possible. I am
XIV
very happy that meanwhile we have found two other
passions to keep us connected: music and socks!
Marrit Piersma, very recently came along and
almost immediately formally joined DNW31. Your help
gives me room to keep the different streams of my life
going forward. I enjoy getting to know you through our
working together and am very thankful that you not
only share the vision but the action too!
Also connecting the different aspects of my life are my
two wonderful 'paranimfen' Suzan Hordijk and Jolanda
van Dijk, who between them close the Utrecht-Drenthe
gap. Thank you for all that you have done, both
connected with this project as well as with all the
others I dragged you (and yours) into over the years.
Suzan, I love and admire your ability to be open to the
energy of every being, and find ways to support it. I am
grateful for all the support that you give me, and the
beings around me, time and again. I hope we keep
singing, keep riding and keep creating together!
Jolanda, nos conocemos desde hace mucho tiempo y
nos hemos visto en las buenas y en las malas. No
importa el clima, nuestra amistad mejoró las cosas.
Compartiendos risas, un amor por otro mundo, y ahora
también una nueva lengua (aunque yo todavía no soy
muy buena en eso). ¡Gracias por todo, y espero tenerte
a mi alrededor por mucho tiempo más! Además trajiste
a dos personas maravillosas a mi vida...
Sasia y Estella; niños del mundo. Gracias por ser
quienes son, me hace tan feliz de verles crecer. Ustedes
manifiestan un poco de este nuevo mundo global que se
XV
está desarrollando. ¡Espero que haya contribuido un
poquito a que su futuro sea bueno dentro de el!
Of course such acknowledgements always fall short.
Countless others have over the years contributed to
what has finally become this dissertation. The people I
have met during my travels, wherever they were, who
demonstrated the unending multiplicity of this world
and of being human within it. These meetings have
been invaluable. Also, all those whom I joined in
making music, which provided moments of joy,
relaxation and filled me with new energy, all fellow
spiritual seekers, fellow world-changers, friends,
colleagues, and all 'creatures great and small' that are
part of my life, this could not have happened without
you.
THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING A PART.
Saskia van Goelst Meijer
Zwartemeer, 2015
XVI
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Nonviolence, Research, Humanistic Studies
lesson number one from human history on the subject of
nonviolence, is that there is no word for it.
Mark Kurlansky (2007)
THERE IS NO WORD FOR IT
Nonviolence has been a part of every major religious
tradition and has been practised for centuries
(Kurlansky, 2007; Martin, 2005; Nagler, 2004). Yet, no
language in the world has a general term to express the
idea of nonviolence as an authentic and proactive
concept. It is only referred to as a negation of
something else. Nonviolence is not violence.
In his book Nonviolence: The History of a
Dangerous Idea Mark Kurlansky (2007) claims that this
is because nonviolence is a profoundly revolutionary
concept that “seeks to completely change the nature of
society” (Kurlansky, 2007, p. 5) and is “a threat to the
established order” (idem.). The notion, he states, has
therefore been marginalized and discarded as “a
fanciful rejection of one of society's key components”
(idem).
3
Michael Nagler has a slightly different explanation. The
lack of a proactive term, he says, is not due to some
(conscious or unconscious) conspiracy, but to the fact
that the idea is indeed counter-intuitive, yet also
primordial and therefore very hard to express. He
argues that in ancient literature it was quite common to
refer to such profound notions in seemingly negative
terms because it was felt that
phenomena like love, absolute courage, and
compassion (…) cannot be fully expressed in fallible,
conditioned human language (Nagler, 2004, p. 44).
We could only point to them, by abnegating the
opposite. But, he goes on to say, because this was a
common
practise,
people
would
immediately
understand such an abnegation as pointing to authentic
and substantive. And so, the negating terminology is
ancient, and although we do not understand it
immediately as a positive any more, the term has stuck.
But that leaves us today with the question: if
nonviolence it is not violence, what is it?
Marginal concept or not, nonviolence has often been
treated as something profoundly dangerous and its
active proponents have been regarded as highly
suspicious and as threats to (national) security and
stability (Kurlansky, 2007). This might seem odd for
something that is at the same time regarded as
harmless and powerless.
Nonviolent action is known to invoke tremendous
violence in those to whom it is directed. Examples of
regimes that brutally beat, arrest, torture or kill
4
nonviolent activist abound.1 Apparently, Kurlansky is
right in noting that there is something deeply
threatening about nonviolence. Perhaps, this is
connected to René Girard's analysis that violence, and
the mechanism of 'scapegoating' in which the peace
and cohesion of one group is secured by (violently)
outcasting specific others, are essential characteristics
of human societies.2 The violence that nonviolence
provokes could well be an example of Girard's
primordial violence, that is needed to maintain the
social order, which nonviolence “seeks to change”
(Kurlansky, 2007, p. 5). On the other hand, Michael
Nagler then might also have a point with his claim that
nonviolence itself is something primordial, and so
different from what most people are used to that there
is (certainly in contemporary languages) no word to
express it.
Whatever the case, people who have actively
promoted nonviolence in recent times, have stumbled
over this lack of adequate terms. It caused them time
and again to figure out for themselves what it means.
Taken at face value, nonviolence has often been
1
Some striking examples can be found in the excellent documentary “A force more
powerful” (York, 1999), not just of state violence in response to nonviolent action, but
also in interpersonal dynamics. A clip that shows an episode from the Civil Rights
Movement in the USA, never failed to shock my students (as it did me the first time I
watched it) whenever I have shown it as part of a lecture. A young African-American
protester, well-dressed and composed, silently sits at a whites-only lunch-counter in
the Southern United States. He is part of a sit-in protest to integrate restaurants. After
a few palpable moments of tension, a white customer throws his glass of milkshake at
the young man after which others jump up and drag him off his bar-stool and viciously
beat him up. Police, billy club in hand, watch on, later arresting the young man for his
unlawful conduct (sitting at a lunch-counter). The shock is of course due to the violence
towards a clearly unarmed man who is not behaving in any obviously threatening way,
but also to the fact that both the police and the white customers seem to find the
beating quite justified.
2
See chapter 4 in this volume for a more in-depth exploration of Girard's theory.
5
understood to mean passivity, non-interference or even
cowardice. To explain that this was not at all what they
were getting at, practitioners of nonviolence have, in
many instances, come up with their own way to
describe the pro-active nature, and explain it to others
in contextually relevant terms. Gandhi, for instance,
coined the new term satyagraha (holding on to truth) to
express his method for waging struggle. People in the
Philippines used the phrase alay dangal (to offer
dignity). But these different terms do not clear up the
question as to what nonviolence is. Is one expression of
it (satyagraha) the same as another (alay dangal)?
Nonviolence is still the term that is most widely
used,
certainly
in
research
and
in
broader
(international) discussion on the topic. There is
something to be said for settling for this term to use in
a wider context and finding context specific ways of
expressing it in particular instances, because it leads
each movement and person to deeply reflect on what,
in their situation, is the bottom line. Noting the
inadequacy of the term, I still hang on to it in this
study, simply because it is the most commonly used
term.
In this study I describe nonviolence in a five-fold
way. The five terms that I use are not substitutes for
the term nonviolence, but point to elements, or aspects
of it. Because this book is a collection of independent
articles, each reflecting an aspect of the study as a
whole, some overlap and repetition of information is
inevitable. Each article on its own needs, for example,
an introduction to concepts and their specific uses, and
needs to provide context for the topic at hand.
Furthermore, the articles represent, at least to a
6
certain extent, the course of a work in progress.
Notions that were in some articles not yet fully
developed, are more so in others. I trust that this book
as a whole nevertheless provides a complete and indepth rendition of this study.
This chapter serves as an introduction to the study.
In the next sections I will describe where this study
stands with respect to other studies on nonviolence or
related subjects and outline the research question and
purpose. Subsequently, I will discuss the importance of
nonviolence for and its relation to humanism and
humanistic studies. In the last section I will give an
overview of the results and some suggestions for future
research.
RESEARCH ON NONVIOLENCE
People have been engaged with nonviolence for
centuries and during all that time people have also
been developing it, thinking about it, testing it out and
gathering evidence. To a certain extent this can be
called research, though mostly not academic research
(Martin, 2005). Research efforts have become more
systematic from the 19th century onward, especially
since the satyagraha movement led by Gandhi.
The roots of contemporary nonviolence as a method
for social action lie in the work of Mohandas Gandhi,
who used mass organized nonviolence for the first time
to create major social and political change (Barak,
2003). Finding roots for his approach in many of the
world’s religious traditions as well as in the works of
Thoreau, Tolstoy, the British suffrage movement and
others, he acted as both a thinker and experimenter to
7
develop his method. His work later inspired many
others to develop their own approaches to nonviolence.
Though Gandhi himself was not a scholar, his work
has become the subject of much academic work. The
most famous is probably the study by Joan Bondurant
(1965), resulting in the book Conquest of Violence
which later had a profound influence on the Civil Rights
Movement in the United States. Other important
studies include work on the Gandhian approach in
general (Brown & Parel, 2011; Mamali, 1998; Richards,
1991) on specific aspects of his work (Bilgrami, 2002;
Gonsalves, 2010; O’Brien, 2006) and his influence on
others (Ardley, 2002; Panter-Brick, 2008; Roberts &
Garton Ash, 2009; Scalmer, 2011). Study has also been
done into the relevance of Gandhian concepts for other
fields like economics (Dasgupta, 1996; Ghosh, 2012; T.
Weber, 1999, 2011), post-colonial thinking (Abraham,
2007; H. Trivedi, 2011), and ecology (Burgat, 2004;
Cox, 2007; Næss, 2005a).
Most of the nonviolent movements that came after
Gandhi have also received quite some academic
attention. Examples include the Civil Rights Movements
and the life and work of Martin Luther King (Ansbro,
2000; Bruns, 2006; Farmer, 1998; R. H. King, 1996;
Roberts, 1968), the Tibetan Independence Movement
(Ardley, 2002), the French Larzac movement (Alland &
Alland, 2001; G. Williams, 2008) or the Sarvodaya
Movement of Sri Lanka (Chowdhry, 2005; Thodok,
2005).
Although much attention has been paid in the above
mentioned studies to the philosophical backgrounds
and the relation between philosophy and practice,
many, if not most research into specific movements is
8
of a sociological nature. The focus is there on questions
like: who or what are these movements and what do
they do? Who are the key figures? How did they
develop?
Examples
of
such
research
include
(Chenoweth, 2011; Zunes, Kurtz, & Asher, 1999). In a
similar way, research has been done into nonviolent
groups, elements or episodes within large scale
conflicts, revolutions or uprisings. Examples include the
role of nonviolence in the Second World War (Sharp,
1959; Stoltzfus, 2001), in the collapse of the Soviet
Union and other European communist regimes (Bleiker,
1993; Eglitis, 1993; Miniotaite, 2002; Roberts, 1991), in
the Arab Spring (Achcar, 2013; Muravchik, 2013; Tripp,
2013) and in the Palestinian Intifada (Hallward, 2011;
Hallward & Norman, 2011; Pearlman, 2011).
One of the foremost researchers on nonviolence is Gene
Sharp, whose work is also used by activists all over the
world. Taking a rigorous and systematic approach
Sharp describes hundreds of specific nonviolent tactics
(Sharp, 1973a, 1973b, 1973c) and discusses the use of
civilian based defence as a viable alternative to warfare
(Sharp, 1980, 1985). However, where nonviolence is a
moral imperative for people like Gandhi, King or Havel,
who stress that its moral framework is just as, if not
more, important than the actual actions, Sharp sees
nonviolence as simply more effective than warfare
(Martin, 2005). The difference between these two
approaches is often described as principled versus
strategic nonviolence (Nagler, 2006). In Sharps
strategic description, the moral framework for (the
choice for) nonviolence is considered much less
relevant (McCarthy & Kruegler, 1993) for the outcome
9
and the process of a nonviolent struggle. Sharp’s
strategic approach to nonviolence focuses mostly on
the best way to obtain the desired ‘objective’ outcome
(for instance the overthrow of a regime). His work has
been very important for understanding the working of
specific tactics and for understanding the power
dynamics that play a role in a nonviolent struggle.
Sharp's work in turn inspired research by others
(Chenoweth, 2011; Helvey, 2004; Mattaini, 2003), and
forms the basis of the research and practice of the
Albert Einstein Institution (Holst, 1990; McCarthy &
Kruegler, 1993; Sharp & Albert Einstein Institution,
2010).
But the strategic approach to nonviolence is not
shared by all. I already mentioned how most nonviolent
leaders emphasise the moral aspects at least as much
as the specific tactics. More recently, another aspect
has been getting more and more attention, namely the
psychology of nonviolence. Inspired by the principles
showcased by mass nonviolence, specific interpersonal
methods for change have emerged. Probably the most
well known is Nonviolent Communication, developed by
Marshall Rosenberg (Rosenberg, 2003, 2005). Another
that also features in this study is Nonviolent Resistance
to teenage violence as developed by Haim Omer (Omer,
2004, 2011; Omer, Schorr-Sapir, & Weinblatt, 2008;
Weinblatt & Omer, 2008). These methods and their
effects also have themselves become the subject of
subsequent study (Burleson, Martin, & Lewis, 2012;
Hilsberg, 2005; Lebowitz, Dolberger, Nortov, & Omer,
2012; Nash, 2007; Sears, 2010). What these
interpersonal methods emphasise is the connection
between action, moral conviction and the psychological
10
needs, skill and tools that are necessary for
nonviolence. In a more general sense these
psychological aspects of nonviolence have been getting
attention within peace psychology. Examples of such
work include (Kool, 2007; Mayton, 2009; Pelton, 1974).
Lastly, the study of nonviolence also takes place
within Peace and Conflict studies (Malley-Morrison,
Mercurio, & Twose, 2013; Matyók, 2011; Webel &
Galtung, 2007), be it in a marginal way (J. Johansen,
2007). This is possibly related to the fact that peace
and nonviolence are by no means synonymous,
although they are sometimes understood as such. Many
peace groups advocate nonviolence, whether strategic
or principled, but the important difference with
outspokenly nonviolent groups or actors is that the
latter focus on the means (the way to come to social
change, peace or other specific goals) and the former
on the end goal of peace, which means many different
things to many different people. Peace, may for
instance imply the end or absence of war and violence
(negative peace) or it might imply social justice,
freedom and autonomy for all, or might even include
efforts towards a sustainable world (positive peace)
(Galtung, 1969).
Neither positive nor negative definitions of peace
automatically imply nonviolence as a means to ensure
peace. Nor does the term peace itself necessarily imply
nonviolence. There is a big difference between thirdparty,
nonviolent
intervention
or
protective
accompaniment as the organization Peace Brigades
International (PBI)3 is doing, and the deployment of
3
See: www.peacebrigades.org
11
armed peacekeeping forces. Yet, both aim to create
peace.
QUESTION AND METHOD
According to all above cited research there is
something that can be called nonviolence and which
can be adopted by groups and individuals. However, it
proves to be very hard to find clear and explicit
definitions (Govier, 2008). This is perhaps due to the
fact that most studies have focussed on specific
elements, outcomes or aspects of nonviolence, on the
work of specific nonviolence practitioners or thinkers.
Or they have focussed on specific contexts each giving
a definition that is linked with the focus of their study.
Some solve this by first defining violence and then
using nonviolence in its literal sense, to point to any
method that does not use, or actively counters violence
(Arendt, 1970; Galtung, 1969; Govier, 2008). However,
with the exception of those who adhere to strategic
nonviolence, for most practitioners and thinkers,
nonviolence points to something more than just the
absence of violence, physical force or war. Rather, it
points to a substantive approach, and sometimes it is
even referred to as a paradigm (Nagler, 2004). As I
have touched upon in the introduction, it has proven
very hard to come to a suitable term for this
substantive approach, so the word 'nonviolence' is still
used, though it causes confusion. The lack of a clear
and generally accepted definition for nonviolence adds
to this confusion.
It is my view that it is important to come to a more
comprehensive understanding of nonviolence, if we are
12
to assess its usefulness and possibilities in different
circumstances. In this research I have attempted to do
so, and come to an understanding of nonviolence that
does not rest on specific circumstances, but points to
its universal characteristics. This has led to the
following research question:
What is contemporary nonviolence?
To which the following sub-questions have been added:
Can we understand contemporary nonviolence
independent of specific contexts?
Which universal characteristics of nonviolence can
be found?
What do these entail?
This research question points at the formation of a
definition of nonviolence based on universal elements
or characteristics that can be found. Many different
forms of definition exist. In this case, the research
question points to a theoretical definition (Hurley,
2011). Such definitions are meant to propose a way of
thinking about a phenomenon and are to an extent
normative, not only descriptive. The five-fold model
presented here as nonviolence should be taken as a
hypothetical construct (Cronbach & Meehl, 1955)
consisting of groups of related attitudes, behaviours
and so on, containing surplus meaning. Thus, I do not
merely attempt to point out what nonviolence is, or
report how the term is used, but attempt to come to a
theory that can be used for understanding and further
analysis of nonviolence and can be further developed.
13
The research has been a literature study into the
work of nonviolence thinkers, practitioners and
movements.
The
Gandhian
understanding
of
nonviolence has been the starting point of my study.
However, even though Gandhi’s work provides an
important basis for understanding nonviolence, many
developments have taken place in nonviolent practice
and theory after Gandhi. To come to an understanding
of contemporary nonviolence it is therefore important
to go beyond Gandhi and also study the way the
Gandhian concepts have been taken up by others. In
doing so I have looked at which concepts have carried
over to the work of other thinkers and practitioners and
how these concepts have been developed and changed
and what remained the same.
In a similar vein, although I have looked at the life
and work of many thinkers, practitioners and
movements, my study does not specifically focus on one
of them. My question was not how each specifically
understood nonviolence or practised it, but which
overarching or universal elements (if any) could be
found. However, in the description of my research
results in the articles or chapters in this volume I do
refer to many of the above mentioned individuals and
movements, as examples or to clarify and explore the
different elements of nonviolence.
It became clear that nonviolence understood solely
in a strategic sense does not allow us to understand
most of the reasoning and moral aspects that are for so
many a fundamental part. I understand nonviolence
here therefore in a principled sense and this study
focuses on the philosophical and intentional aspects of
nonviolence, within which the strategies take shape.
14
The aim of this study then is twofold. First is to discern
if it is possible to understand nonviolence as a
substantive and pro-active concept, independent of
specific cultural, religious or practical contexts. And, if
so, what that would look like. The second is to see if
from such an independent notion it is possible to
develop a framework for analysis and practice of
nonviolence.
HUMANISTIC STUDIES
This research was carried out in the context of
humanistic studies, a multi-disciplinary academic
discipline that critically explores issues of (existential)
meaning and humanization, or personal and social
aspects of ‘good living’. Humanistic Studies is
grounded in humanism, a worldview or meaning frame
(Derkx, 2015) that emphasizes the value, dignity and
agency of human beings. The aim of humanistic studies
is to give a theoretical and practical shape to the
humanist pursuit for a meaningful life in a humane
(global) society, to critically question and examine its
humanist foundations and to contribute to the
development of this modern humanist meaning frame
(Alma, Derkx, & Suransky, 2010).
In relation to existential meaning, humanistic
studies asks and tries to answer questions like: how
and when do people find meaning in their life? What
makes their life valuable, meaningful, appropriate?
Which frameworks do they apply to determine their
attitude to life and society? What happens when people
experience a sense of loss of meaning? And so on.
15
Where humanization is concerned it studies issues
concerning the fostering of more humane social
relations. Questions that are asked in this context are:
how can we organize social constellations and societies
so that every person can have a humane and
meaningful life? Can we create social circumstances
that foster the experience of meaning? What would
those look like? How can we address social exclusion
and unequal power relations on different levels (see
also Jacobs, 2002)?
The study of nonviolence is, against this backdrop
an important one, I feel. I think that the theory and
practice of contemporary nonviolence shares insights
and a number of important normative premises with
humanism. Yet, I also believe that nonviolence as I have
described it in this thesis addresses some difficulties
that contemporary humanism and consequently also
humanistic studies are confronted with. They are
mainly related to the connection between (existential)
meaning and humanization. In the following section I
will explore the importance of and relation between
nonviolence and humanism and humanistic studies.
NONVIOLENCE AND HUMANISM
Humanism has a long standing tradition in The
Netherlands is a worldview that holds on to values such
as
freedom
and
self-determination,
justice,
righteousness and solidarity, tolerance, appreciation of
diversity and respect for human dignity (Duyndam,
Alma, & Maso, 2008). Characteristics of a humanist
view of life are confidence in one’s own insight and
powers of observation, orientation towards dialogue
16
and an aversion to dogmatism. It is especially since the
Enlightenment that humanism is considered a
philosophy of life in which the human perspective is a
defining factor in the understanding of, and giving
meaning to, life and to the world (Derkx, 2011).
Peter
Derkx,
professor
of
Humanism
and
Worldviews at the University of Humanistic Studies,
tries to come to a contemporary understanding of
humanism that fits the 21st century, and has elaborated
on this most recently in his contribution to the Wiley
Handbook of Humanism, (Derkx, 2015) and his book
Humanisme en Nooit Meer Ouder Worden (Derkx,
2011). He posits that humanism is a meaning frame
with four characteristics. The first characteristic is that
humanism is a context-dependent human product. This,
he states, is an epistemological tenet, which implies
that from a humanist perspective, worldviews, life
stances or meaning frames can’t be conceived as
objective or neutral positions. This implies that as far as
worldviews, life stances or meaning frames are
concerned, objective or neutral positions can’t exist:
No human is in a position to survey the landscape of
different meaning frames from a neutral height and
say how – apart from his own experience and history –
life and world should be understood (Derkx, 2015, p.
2).
The remaining three characteristics are of a moral kind.
The second characteristic that Derkx mentions is that
all human beings are equally endowed with human
dignity and ought to treat each other as such. Derkx
links this characteristic mostly to individual autonomy
and personal responsibility. Each individual can only
17
decide for him or herself how he or she wants to live,
no one else can do this in his/her stead. However, when
Derkx connects equality to the recognition of the
dignity of all, the larger social context also becomes
important. Only societies that recognise this equal
dignity of all people can be called humanistic,
expressed for instance through the recognition of or
standing up for, human rights (Derkx, 2011). This
characteristic therefore also has a political connotation
and is connected to humanization (Schuhmann &
Goelst Meijer, 2012). Thirdly, Derkx asserts that selfdevelopment, linked to positive freedom and autonomy
is a moral imperative for humanists. People should use
their freedom and autonomy to develop themselves and
strive to give their life purpose and meaning
(Schuhmann & Goelst Meijer, 2012). For the last
characteristic of humanism Derkx follows Todorov
(2003), in stating that humanists ought to cultivate love
for specific, vulnerable, unique and irreplaceable
people and make them the “highest aim of his or her
actions” (Derkx, 2015, p. 5). This characteristic has
both personal and political implications (Derkx, 2011).
Not only do we as individuals connect to specific people
in our lives, societies need to foster options for
individual choice in people’s lives and prevent people
from harming the (options for) individual development
of others.
Thus, personal responsibility, autonomy, love for
unique and irreplaceable people and self-development
take centre-stage in Derkx’s view on humanism. This
seems to point to a concept of humanism that is mainly
focussed on individual well-being and good living.
Although he mentions the importance of the social
18
aspect of humanism by stating that people’s actions
only get their full meaning from the responses of others
and that the social element of human life is not second
to the individual aspects (Derkx, 2011), the focus
remains on the individual. In this definition of
humanism, the equality and equal dignity of people
refers to their personal, individual responsibility for
their life and its fulfilment.
However, as I have mentioned above, the principle
of equality implies humanization. Somehow the human
rights and the equal opportunities for each to live a
meaningful life, need to be guaranteed and fostered
(Schuhmann & Goelst Meijer, 2012). Derkx mentions
that people are deeply social beings and that tensions
between the individual and the social good should not
be overlooked and goes on to say that it is unhelpful to
think of the pursuit of personal meaning as necessarily
opposed to the greater good (Derkx, 2011). However,
the text says very little about how the two aspects are
related, or about the way these tensions should be
handled. That this is nonetheless an important part of
humanism and something that should be worked out, is
stressed for instance by Nimrod Aloni in his book
Enhancing Humanity (Aloni, 2007).
Aloni describes four approaches to the matter of “how
to be a human being” (Aloni, 2007, p. 5) that can be
considered the founding traditions of contemporary
humanism (Schuhmann & Goelst Meijer, 2012) They
are:
(1) a classical-cultural approach which begins in
ancient Greece and continues in various forms in
Rome, the Renaissance, and the New Era until the
19
present day; (2) a romantic naturalistic approach (…);
(3) an existential approach built on existential and
phenomenological literature and research; and (4) the
radical-critical approach that coalesced in the
"counterculture" of the 60s (Aloni, 2007, pp. 5–6).
The first three traditions ring through in the
description of contemporary humanism summarized
above, but the fourth, the radical-critical approach does
so much less. This critical approach stresses the need
for awareness of and change in the existing social
reality. This social reality is not neutral but rather
normative and does not grant equal opportunities to all
people and all ways of life. The pursuit of personal
meaning takes place within socio-political contexts.
Furthermore, these social realities directly and
indirectly affect the ways in which people are able to
pursue their personal fulfilment and lead a meaningful
life. They also affect the things that count as personal
fulfilment. Moreover, the self-development of one can
interfere with that of another (Schuhmann & Goelst
Meijer, 2012). Power relations and the ways in which
they are (socially) organized thus play a big role in
something as private as the pursuit of a meaningful life.
In contemporary humanism as described above, the
importance of social relations and human rights is
mentioned and it is acknowledged that the individual
and the social good can sometimes be opposed. But this
seems to be a thin base, compared with the radicalcritical approach that Aloni describes.
Thinkers in this radical tradition emphasize, for
instance, the deep psychological effects of oppression,
poverty, lack of education and lack of insight into larger
societal mechanisms. These forms of deprivation harm
20
people’s abilities “to take their fate into their own
hands and act towards changing and improving the
reality of their lives” (Aloni, 2007, p. 48). Central in this
critical-radical tradition is not just the fulfilment of
personal meaning (whether or not in relation others),
but “the development of critical awareness and moral
sensitivity” (idem.) and finding ways to “rationally,
morally and responsibly cope with the main challenges
facing humanity in the last third of the 20 th century”
(idem.). The critical-radical tradition stresses the
necessity of social engagement and critical selfreflection, aimed not just at assessing how one’s own
life is developing, but how it is developing in light of
that of others. Dynamics of power, opportunity and
opposition are central in this respect.
The principle of equality, that has been described as
a humanist fundament, implies that striving towards
humanization is important as is critical reflection on the
connection between humanization and personal
meaning. When engaging with the search for a
meaningful life, the question of what this will mean in
light of humanization processes needs to be taken into
account. The dehumanising aspects of personal
development and personal meaning need to be
assessed and addressed. Engaging with this kind of
reflection makes the tensions between processes of
personal meaning and self-development and processes
of humanization stand out.
For one thing, when we have to make room for the
meaningful fulfilment of the lives of others, our own
fulfilment might be compromised. For another, striving
towards the personal fulfilment of our lives is not
necessarily humanizing. When different trajectories of
21
personal fulfilment clash, humanization seems to
amount to a form of conflict management. Curiously,
questions of conflict and conflict management do not
really feature in the description of contemporary
humanism, nor are they central to humanistic studies
(Schuhmann & Goelst Meijer, 2012). The perspective of
nonviolence, with its emphasis on both meaning and
worldview, and on power relations, social justice and
relationality has, in my view, a lot to offer in this
respect.
That this perspective is not totally new in (Dutch)
humanism, can be gained from the work of Jaap van
Praag, founding father of the Dutch humanist
movement. His experiences in the Second World War
have always been a source of reflection in Van Praag’s
work. Both before and after the war Van Praag was an
active member of different peace organizations and
emphasized nonviolence. The humanist worldview was
to him an expression of his attempts to live a nonviolent
life, and was connected with respect for life and human
dignity (Goelst Meijer, 2012). He wrote:
What it means to be truly human can’t be understood
from the individual fulfilment of existence, because
man can only be fully understood as a human being in
the world, between fellow human beings. Thus, the
message of humanism is the enunciation of the
possibility of an existence in which man, on every
stair of development realizes himself through his
concern with the non-self (Praag, 2009, p. 69).4
4
Translation SvGM.
22
As in nonviolence thinking as it is presented in this
study,
Van
Praag's
ideas
expressed
here
a
fundamentally relational view on ‘what is means to be
human’. Such a relational view is also described by
other humanistic thinkers like Hans Alma (2005), who
explain that processes of meaning giving and personal
fulfilment take place in the space of a relationship
between an individual and other people or the world.
Confrontations with the views of others lead us to a
more complex form of being human. But this relational
view does not imply that these meetings with others are
always easy or conflict-free. Conflicts are part and
parcel of every aspect of life. But this is not necessarily
a bad thing. Conflicts force us to engage with new
perspectives and can ultimately help to create a more
complex way of understanding reality. Humanization is
then not just about the prevention or removal of
conflict, but about handling or preventing its
destructive aspects (Schuhmann & Goelst Meijer,
2012), or in other words about 'waging good conflict'
(Lindner, 2009).
HUMANISTIC STUDIES AND NONVIOLENCE
As stated above, nonviolence as it has been presented
and analysed in this study is about more than the
removal or absence of violence. It represents a way of
dealing with social relations that both incorporates
questions of meaning and of humanization and deeply
relates them. For this reason alone nonviolence is of
interest for humanism as a worldview and for
humanistic studies as the academic discipline focussed
on meaning and humanization. But there are more
23
specific ways in which humanistic thinking could
benefit from reflection on and critique from the
nonviolence paradigm. As an example, we can look at
the first characteristic of contemporary humanism as
stated by Derkx. This epistemological premise is very
much in line with the ideas on truth and lifeperspectives in the nonviolence paradigm that I have
tried to capture with the term satya5.
The basic premise of satya, one of the five elements
of nonviolence, is that even if there might be something
like an objective or ultimate reality, people can only
know and understand it in a relative, contextual sense.
Opposing and conflicting truth claims constitute an
appeal to: “develop new and more complex conceptions
and visions of reality, of different strategies of being in
the world, of new forms of good living, both personal
and social” (Goelst Meijer, forthcoming). 6 This connects
to Derkx’s statements about humanism and meaning
frames in general, that these are constantly evaluated,
challenged and changed by people’s experiences, by
applying reason and through encounters with others.
To a large extent then, the first characteristic of
humanism overlaps with ideas found in the nonviolence
paradigm. However, a note of difference creeps up
towards the end of this section of his article in the
handbook of humanism.
In the plea for humanism as an 'inclusive' meaning
frame it is stated that an attitude akin to the humanistic
one described by Derkx can also be found within other
religions and worldviews. “Some Christians, Muslims,
Jews etc. are humanists because they accept the core
5
6
See chapter 3 in this volume.
Chapter 3 in this volume.
24
humanist principles” (Derkx, 2015, p. 3). Although I
think it is important to recognize that notions like
personal responsibility for one's life, autonomy, love for
unique and irreplaceable people and self-development
can be found within every other world religion or
worldview, and although I do believe that this is
essentially what is meant here, I think that the claim
that those who adhere to these principles are therefore
humanists (regardless of their faith) is somewhat
problematic. By claiming that all who adhere to these
notions in their religion or worldview are therefore
humanists, whether they view themselves as such or
not, we run the risk of embarking on a slippery slope of
appropriation.
It is perhaps noteworthy that in a different article,
in the edited book Waarvoor je Leeft (Alma & Smaling,
2010) Derkx himself writes something along the same
lines:
Humanism is to some people a word they use to
denote their own worldview and with it all kinds of
things they value positively: individual freedom,
tolerance, humaneness. (…). If we want to prevent
that humanism becomes a receptacle of all kinds of
things that we find good or bad according to our
individual preferences, we should take the history of
humanism seriously and depart from the most
important meanings humanism has had in the past
centuries (Derkx, 2010, p. 43).7
But the remark in the Handbook of Humanism seems to
disregard that specific history. Religious believers,
oriented towards personal responsibility, autonomy,
7
Translation SvGM.
25
self development and love for specific individuals (and
who find motives for this within their respective
religions), might not agree with or adhere to humanism
as a life stance, with its specific history, at all.
Moreover, in the handbook Derkx speaks not just about
humanism, but about humanists and who is or is not
one. Thus it becomes a question of identity. By
assigning the identity 'humanist' to everyone, even
those who specifically consider themselves Muslim, Jew
or belonging to whichever other specific faith, who
nevertheless also adhere to these four tenets, one runs
the risk of stepping over their 'otherness' (Irigaray,
1996), and create precisely the receptacle he says not
to want. There is a tension between the wish to define
humanism as open, tolerant and dialogical as possible
and at the same time define it as a very specific
worldview.
As Derkx addresses in his article, humanism itself is
a diversified worldview and there will be many groups
who call themselves humanist, who do not agree with
his definition. But, it is one thing to try and define what
humanism is (even if not everyone agrees), but quite
another to claim this identity for others who do not
claim it for themselves.
I think that the statement in the Handbook of
Humanism forgoes something that in the nonviolent
paradigm, specifically in relation the notions of satya 8
and ahimsa9 is very important. It is perhaps best
described in the words of philosopher Irigaray (1996)
as the recognition of “the other as other”. Irigaray
states:
8
9
See chapter 3 in this volume.
See chapter 4 in this volume.
26
Recognizing you means or implies respecting you as
other, accepting that I draw myself to a halt before
you as before something insurmountable, a mystery, a
freedom that will never be mine, a subjectivity that
will never be mine, a mine that will never be mine
(Irigaray, 1996, p. 104)
I think that here the nonviolence paradigm has
something to offer for thinking through humanism. It
certainly offers some important insights for the
academic discipline of humanistic studies, concerned
with creating a just world in which all can live a
meaningful life. ‘Drawing oneself to a halt’ is also one
of the implications of the element tapasya, part of
nonviolence, which is described in this study. 10 That
this attitude is important in nonviolence is not only
expressed by nonviolence thinkers like Gandhi, but also
for instance by Evelin Lindner (2006, 2009, 2010),
founder of the network on Human Dignity and
Humiliation studies.11 She explains how the recognition
of limits in both action and intention are important in
dynamics of humiliation and dignity. To her, humiliation
and the removal of dignity form the core of violence
and violent conflicts (Lindner, 2006). To safeguard the
dignity of all, it is important to cultivate an attitude of
humility and of something that John Koller has
described as “epistemological respect for the view of
others” (Koller, 2004, p. 88), as other, without the
necessity of a claim. That this is not an easy endeavour
can be easily understood from the clashes between
10
11
See chapter 5 in this volume.
See www.humiliationstudies.org
27
different religious and cultural groups, both within and
between countries the world over. But humanization is,
in my opinion, connected to cultivating precisely this
attitude.
That the cultivation of such an attitude is not
something far-fetched, and in fact quite possible to
achieve by ordinary people, prove the different
examples cited in this study. But these examples also
show that training, and a firm commitment to
nonviolence are necessary.
In situations in which we are surrounded by others
that are thinking, feeling and acting in ways that are
similar to our own, the practice of making space for the
other will not be so hard. Cultivating love for unique
and irreplaceable others, an element of contemporary
humanism, becomes a salient issue in situations of
conflict, violence and humiliation. This love is not
cultivated by reflection and reasoning alone, but by
practice and by engaging in situations in which it is put
to the test (Schuhmann & Goelst Meijer, 2012). In the
theory and practice of nonviolence, as described in this
study, this cultivation takes centre stage and the
practical examples show that in certain circumstances,
conflicts and situations of oppression can be humanised
from within.
It is remarkable that nonviolence receives little
attention in Humanistic Studies and that the emphasis
on nonviolence has all but disappeared from
contemporary humanist thinking, even though it lies at
its foundation. Yet, as described above, nonviolence
addresses a lot of topics that are important for
humanism and humanistic studies. Both strive, from a
value laden (normative) perspective for a humane and
28
just (global) society in which each person can live a
meaningful life in dignity. Both emphasize the role and
importance of an existential perspective and of
worldviews and connect meaning to humanization. In
nonviolence the emphasis is on concrete social (and
personal) practises. It is for all of these reasons that I
think nonviolence is an important and relevant topic of
study for humanistic studies.
In the next section I will present an overview of my
understanding of nonviolence, its five elements and
how they are linked together by way of a first
introduction. In the last section, I will make some
suggestions for further research based on my
understanding of nonviolence and on the importance
and role I see for nonviolence as a topic for study in
general and specifically within humanistic studies.
OVERVIEW OF RESULTS
Looking at all these different practises and analyses of
nonviolence five elements stand out that are present in
each account. The nonviolent approach rests on the
search for truth (satya), the firm intention not to
commit harm (ahimsa), aiming for autonomy and selfreliance (swadeshi/swaraj) while limiting oneself
(tapasya) so the well-being of all (sarvodaya) can
emerge. These five elements, in their Sanskrit terms
originating from Gandhi’s work, together form a
dynamic framework, that is the core of contemporary
nonviolence.
The terms were (re)conceptualised by Gandhi in a
new way that made them applicable in contemporary
society. As a result of all nonviolent efforts and
29
experience gained after Gandhi’s struggle, the meaning
of these terms has expanded even more. Although
Gandhi mentions all five terms throughout his work, he
never made the claim that they together formed
nonviolence. Gandhi was not looking for a systematic
framework. The term he used for his nonviolence was
satyagraha (holding on to truth). But to explain
satyagraha he referred to each of the terms.
It is my assertion that, when we analyse instances
of principled nonviolence, these elements are all
present. This does not mean that each individual or
group working with nonviolence necessarily uses all
these terms, but it does mean that the dynamics they
represent are always to be found. Nonviolence,
consisting of these five elements, amounts to a specific
form of wielding power, best captured with the term
integrative power (Boulding, 1990; Nagler, 2004).
In the following sections I will give a brief
introduction to these five elements and the way in
which they are linked together and come to an answer
to the research question. The subsequent chapters of
this book consist, with the exception of the first, of
articles that each focus on one element specifically. In
the next section I take some more time to address the
last element, that of sarvodaya, because this element is
not addressed in an article of its own.
FIVE ELEMENTS
The first element, explained more in-depth in chapter 3
of this book, is that of satya, meaning ‘truth’ in
Sanskrit. This might seem odd because conflicting
truth-claims, can and often do lead to violence. Yet,
30
satya points to a very specific understanding of truth,
or rather to a form of truth-seeking, that prevents this.
For Gandhi the search for truth forms the essence
of his work (M. K. Gandhi, 1927a). He is convinced that
there was such a thing as universal truth, yet that
people could only understand it in a relative sense.
Gandhi wants people to examine each situation, and
understand what is at stake for all involved. Although
people should strive to understand the truth of every
situation, one can never claim to be all-knowing. In
Gandhian thought, truth is based in experience
(Bilgrami, 2011a). We can experience something to be
true, yet someone else can come to an opposite
conclusion based on his or her own experiences. These
truths cannot cancel each other out because both
experiences are real. In times of disagreement, it could
be that the other party sees something more of the
truth than we do, even though we are convinced that
we are right. This does not mean that we should give
up our own ideas about the truth; it means that we
allow for the possibility for both truths to exist. This
would make satya an extremely relative concept, except
each experience still has universal value. The
experience of truth does not lead to a rule for everyone
to follow, but it does lead to a rule for oneself to follow.
Satya therefore implies that “we are dedicated to the
truth we perceive, to the truth we understand” (Thakar,
2005, p. 20). If we live from our own truth as we
understand it, setting an example, we can share our
truth with others and others their truth with us
(Bilgrami, 2011b; Thakar, 2005).
This element also takes a central place in the work
of Václav Havel, and in this study I have focussed on his
31
ideas to explore satya. Havel’s work shows that satya
demands that we see the world as an arena where
different truths meet and interact, something that he
denotes with ‘the logic of stories’. Both Gandhi and
Havel stress that the personal and the political, the
individual and the public quest to live in truth as
intertwined. The personal search for one’s identity and
truth are done in private, but acting upon one’s truth, is
a public act and has social consequences. So, the role
of satya in nonviolence is not just a moral imperative to
‘live in truth’, but a call to action, to participate in the
creation of social realities that are more nonviolent.
The second element is that of Ahimsa, addressed more
in-depth in chapter 4 of this book. Ahimsa literally
means ‘the absence of the intention to do harm’.
Gandhi adapted ahimsa from a philosophical notion that
he found to be too “negative and passive” (Parekh,
2001, p. 46) and widened it with ideas from other
religions and secular thinkers that were “activist and
socially oriented” (idem.). Blended they “yielded the
novel idea of an active and positive but detached and
non-emotive love” (idem).
Ahimsa also points to addressing harm, for instance
through
social
service.
When
we
encounter
circumstances in which we or others experience
injustice and we do not venture to remedy the situation,
we are, from the point of view of nonviolence, to a
certain extent complicit. Thus, acting without the
intention to do harm, means addressing the problems
we encounter as best we can. However, we should
address the situation in a way that does not create
32
harm in itself. In other words, we can’t fight injustice
by inflicting harm on the perpetrators.
Ahimsa is that element in a process of nonviolence
which calls one to make a qualitative shift in our
relationship to others. Instead of hating our opponents
one should cultivate goodwill and disinterested love
towards all others, regardless of the attitude the other
takes towards you. This means, as M.L. King has put it
‘condemning the sin, not the sinner’ (M. L. King, 2001).
Ahimsa thus also requires satya, a search for and an
understanding of the different viewpoints of others and
their needs.
Whereas in nonviolence thinking this is understood
foremost (though not solely) in a social way, a very
similar attitude is developed in relation to the natural
world, in the context of Radical Ecology. Radical
Ecology is a way of thinking that asks how a radical
transformation of human “being in the world” can be
brought about, that would allow humans and nonhuman beings both to flourish. In this study I have
compared the notion of ahimsa to this specific way of
relating to 'the other' that Radical Ecology proposes.
The shift in attitude that is proposed by Radical Ecology
is not in the first place related to dealing with an
antagonistic other (although nature is sometimes cast
that way in western thinking), but with an 'other' that is
a different life form. However, in both cases the other
has a different outlook on life, and different needs for
flourishing that might conflict. Although the term
ahimsa is seldom mentioned in a radical ecological
context, the shift in attitude it represents is very
similar, amounting to “saying “yes” to all living beings”
(Aristarkhova, 2012, p. 637).
33
The third element, tapasya, which is the subject of
chapter 5, is usually the most difficult to grasp,
certainly from a western point of view. Its most
common translation in the context of nonviolence; selfsuffering, brings to mind the idea that nonviolence
involves accepting the violence or wrong-doings of the
other without responding to them. This interpretation is
linked to another common misinterpretation of
nonviolence as passivity and acquiescence (Roedel,
2007). However, tapasya points to something
completely different.
Tapasya implies the willingness to suffer instead of
retaliating when confronted with violence or injustice
and subverts the ‘reasonable’ idea of eliminating
suffering for oneself. This breaks the cycle of violence.
It is not the same as giving in. It means addressing the
violence by not participating in the dynamic it calls for;
fight, flight or freeze. Tapasya is thus an agent for selftransformation and strongly related to ahimsa. An
example is the firm internal struggle to overcome ill
will to the opponent. The removal of ill will is part of
ahimsa, engaging in the struggle to do so is a form of
tapasya, and so, tapasya also points towards dedication
or discipline.
Tapasya is related to satya when it is understood as
a means to “penetrate the heart” of those to whom we
are appealing. By making the suffering visible by
undergoing it openly, it becomes clear that the
injustices people face are afflicted on them by other
humans. That means that it can also be stopped
(Tercheck, 2011), but for that to happen, the problem
has to be acknowledged.
34
In the context of this study I have compared tapasya
to the work of philosopher René Girard. To Girard
violence is connected to sacrifice. However, in their
writings on nonviolence, Gandhi, King and others speak
of the role of sacrifice in nonviolence and the
dedication of one’s life to the well-being of all. The
sacrifice that tapasya refers to is the creation of a
situation in which the humanity of all people can rise to
the surface, rather than adhering to self-preservation at
the expense of the other.
Girard himself remains sceptical about the practical
realities of a nonviolent society, but he states that it
would mean “the complete and definitive elimination of
every form of vengeance and every form of reprisal in
relations between men” (Girard, 1987, p. 197). I
maintain that this is what is meant by tapasya.
The fourth aspect is that of swadeshi/swaraj. An indepth exploration of this notion can be found in the
final chapter of this book, chapter 6.
Swadeshi means 'from one’s own' (swa-) 'country' (deshi), though the most commonly used direct
translation is self-reliance (Cox, 2007). In a political
sense swadeshi implies economic and socio-political
self-reliance. For individuals it means to be as selfsufficient as possible, to have agency and self-efficacy
and create the circumstances that allow you to do so.
Swaraj means 'self-' (swa) 'rule' (raj). This can refer to
political autonomy. But it also implies autonomy at the
personal
level.
Where
swadeshi
points
to
empowerment,
creating
the
conditions
for
independence, swaraj points to actual autonomy and
self-rule (Jahanbegloo, 2013).
35
Put together swadeshi/swaraj point to something
slightly different than autonomy in the traditional
sense, with which it is often compared (Prabhu, 2008).
Rather it points to a form of autonomy that is
understood as relational. Relational autonomy departs
from the premise that people are essentially social
beings, whose identities develop within relations
(Sherwin & Winsby, 2011) and who’s autonomy is
constrained and complicated by but also made possible
through relationships. Swadeshi/swaraj points to a form
of autonomy in which becoming fully human, fully
oneself does not rest on freeing oneself from these ties
(Prabhu, 2008), but is rather seen as a search for a
“contextually sensitive decision making processes”
(Cox, 2007, p. 114). In such a relational approach it
becomes crucial to analyse the effect and role of norms,
values, institutions, attitudes and beliefs to see how
they help or hinder the (capacity for) autonomy
development for each person (ibid.) (satya) and to then
act in such a way that helps to increase the capacity for
autonomous action for each (ahimsa, sarvodaya).
In this study I look at a specific practice of
nonviolence to clarify this concept further: a method for
working with violent and self-destructive children
developed by Israeli Psychologist Haim Omer. Omer’s
method is to a large extent concerned with
empowerment and creating circumstances in which
parents (and by extension also the child) are not swept
away by each other’s responses. Instead they learn to
deal with the violence in a way that addresses the
problem, and also helps the family as a whole to
function better. Swadeshi/swaraj points to such an
attitude of autonomy within a web of relations.
36
The final aspect of nonviolence is sarvodaya, or the
welfare of all. This is the one element that does not
have a separate chapter in this book and so I will
elaborate on it here more in depth.
The term sarvodaya, was coined by Mohandas
Gandhi, and in his work this notion points mostly to his
ideas on the socio-economical organization of India as
an independent country, specifically the betterment of
the poorest and marginalised. However, as with most of
Gandhi’s notions, sarvodaya had much wider
implications (see also: Mayton, 2001). Sarvodaya points
also to the desire and attempts to resolve problematic
situations of conflict or injustice with literally the
welfare of all in mind, even the parties that could be
taken as the perpetrator of violence. The notion in this
wider sense has travelled to all other modern
nonviolence movements, though often under different
names, as a central element of a nonviolence process.
The word sarvodaya appears in Gandhi’s work first as
the title of his paraphrased translation of John Ruskin’s
book Unto This Last (1921) into his native language
Gujarati. Ruskin’s book was to a large extent a critique
of modernity, specifically of modern industrial
capitalism (Parel, 2008). According to Ruskin and
Gandhi, modern economic thinking made the mistake of
seeing self-interest as the sole motivator of human
action. It had overlooked the importance of “social
affection” (Parel, 2008, p. 25). According to Gandhi and
Ruskin, a healthy economy would take both self-interest
and social affection into account. Related to this was a
critique of the concept of wealth. True wealth does not
consist of possessions, which hold only relative value,
37
according to a corresponding human capacity. A car,
for instance, is only valuable to someone who knows
how to drive it, or has someone around who can. People
without this capacity will not see much value in a car, it
will cost money for nothing. To Gandhi and Ruskin, the
most fundamental capacity humans have is life itself.
Hence, the essence of economics should be the
preservation and enhancement of life.
We must search for wealth not in the bowels of the
earth but in the hearts of men… the true law of
economics is that men should be maintained in the
best possible health, both of body and mind, and in
the highest honour (M. K. Gandhi, 1999a, p. 406).
Thus, a healthy economy is one that empowers and
uplifts people, and is centred around their well-being in
their broadest sense (Parel, 2008).
Sarvodaya was created by Gandhi from the root sarva,
meaning ‘everyone’ or ‘all’, and ‘udaya’ - uplift or
betterment. Put together it means ‘the uplift of all’,
or in a more wider used translation ‘the welfare of
all’. As the title of his paraphrased translation it
pointed straight at one of the most fundamental
points that Gandhi found in Ruskin’s book and
wholeheartedly agreed with, an opposition to
utilitarianism. Contrary to the utilitarian notion of 'the
greatest good for the greatest number', sarvodaya
really means the welfare, uplift or benefit, of each and
every person (Richards, 1991).
Sarvodaya stands in contrast to utilitarian thinking
because it opposes the notion that the good of the
minority can be sacrificed for that of the majority. On
38
the other hand, sarvodaya does not imply that the
welfare of the group comes before that of the individual
either. Both have to be taken equally into account, the
individual and its social embeddedness are both vital
for human well-being. However, it is understood that
the welfare of the group consists of the welfare of its
members. As Gandhi summarized one of Ruskin’s
tenets: “the good of the individual is contained in the
good of all” (M. K. Gandhi, 1927a, p. 157). Once again,
the relational view of humanity is stressed here. That
this also implies a firm connection between ends and
means becomes clear from the work of Glyn Richards
who writes:
The utilitarian approach, if it had been applied to the
political life of India, would have led to the forcible
ejection of the British on the grounds that the greatest
happiness or good of the greatest number in India,
namely the Indians themselves, would have resulted
from it. Gandhi could not countenance such an
approach because it involved rejecting ahimsa and
relinquishing sarvodaya (Richards, 1991, p. 45).
In this research I use the term not in this original
economic sense but as a wider notion, hinted at in the
final part of the quote by Glyn Richards above.
Sarvodaya then points to an attitude or a stance from
which things are to be handled, namely from an
attitude that is tuned to the welfare of all present in a
specific situation.
One particular contemporary practice that is closely
connected with nonviolence and highlights the salient
aspects of sarvodaya is that of Restorative Justice
(Johnstone & Van Ness, 2007; Sullivan & Tifft, 2006;
39
Van Ness, 2010). Restorative Justice is a practise of
addressing crimes in a way that does not seek
retribution (an equal amount of harm dealt to the
perpetrator through punishment), but seeks to repair
as much as possible the damage that is done and the
re-integration of all parties (Wallis & Tudor, 2008), i.e.
with the uplift or well-being of all in mind. In different
terms:
Restorative Justice aims to restore the well-being of
victims, offenders and communities damaged by
crime, and to prevent further offending (Liebmann,
2007, p. 25).
That this is no simple matter is affirmed by Liebmann
when she writes:
Even if goods are returned or insurance claimed or
wounds healed, there are still likely to be emotional
scars for the victim. The hope is that, rather than aim
to simply restore what has been lost, a dialogue
between victim and offender can transform the crime
into something different, so that the experience can
be a healing one for all concerned (Liebmann, 2007,
pp. 25–26).
However, in spite of these difficulties, Restorative
Justice is often proposed as a nonviolent way of dealing
with crime. I cannot deal with all the complex
discussions connected with Restorative Justice as they
exists, nor is it my aim to discuss the topic here in such
depth. I merely want to cite it as an example of a field
in which solving difficult circumstances with the
welfare of all (involved parties) in mind is central. The
40
way nonviolence has been understood in this study
implies that in this context the damage done to the
victim should certainly not be ignored. It does mean
that a deep reflection has to take place on what
'welfare' means for each of the involved parties. And
furthermore, on how a situation in which the welfare of
all is fostered, can be created. This dynamics makes
sarvodaya an integral part of nonviolence.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
These five elements, although here separately explored,
form a coherent and dynamic whole that constitutes
nonviolence. It is not enough to equate nonviolence
with one of the elements. As I understand nonviolence,
each of these elements have to be present, because
they supplement and support each other. The five
elements together form a framework which can be used
as a tool for analyses as well as a starting point for
formulating practice.
Nonviolence, understood in this five-fold way,
implies a specific form of wielding power, for which I
use, following Kenneth Boulding (1990), the term
integrative power. For Boulding, from the three basic
ways of wielding, integrative power is the most
important in comparison to the other two; threat and
exchange power, which are often together paraphrased
as ‘the carrot and the stick’. Integrative power is the
power of and through human relationships. It is
connected to everything that establishes a relation
either personal or in the form of institutions or
organizations. Of course, both threat and exchange
power also make use of a relationship between parties,
41
without a relationship neither a threat nor a reward
would have any bearing. Yet, the threat or reward are a
tool through which a relationship is influenced.
Integrative power does away away with this 'gobetween' and makes use of the relation directly. In
chapters 2 and 4 this concept is explored in-depth.
When we look at nonviolence as a praxis, we can also
divide it into two distinct but related sections,
‘constructive program’ (M. K. Gandhi, 1927b) and
‘obstructive program’ (Nagler, 2004). Obstructive
program - the various forms of protest against and noncooperation with violence and injustice- is the most
widely known part of nonviolence.
The constructive side of nonviolence points to the
development of new (social) structures that embody
and support the nonviolent realities one strives for. On
the other hand, constructive activities can themselves
become a form of protest when the creation of
alternative (parallel) institutions becomes a way to
circumvent those that are deemed violent or
problematic. In a way, constructive program aims at
structural nonviolence. Chapters 2 and 6 specifically
address the constructive side of nonviolence.
Therefore, my summarized answer to the main
research question 'what is contemporary nonviolence?'
is that contemporary nonviolence is a pro-active and
substantial mode of conduct, of which the universal
characteristics
are
satya,
ahimsa,
tapasya,
swadeshi/swaraj and sarvodaya, as explained above and
explored in more detail in the rest of this book.
Together they amount to a specific form of wielding
42
power, here denoted with the term integrative power.
In addition, nonviolence has both an obstructive and a
constructive side, which both are expressions of these
five elements.
SUGGESTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH
I think it is important to continue developing theory
and conducting research on nonviolence in all its
aspects. Even though there are many nonviolent efforts
going on around the world today (see for instance:
Chenoweth, 2011), the facts and narratives of these
efforts seldom reach mainstream news or research
agendas. Even in a field like Peace and Conflict studies,
the focus is only rarely on nonviolence. Because
nonviolence is quite invisible as a distinctive
phenomenon on research agendas globally, it remains
in many respects quite poorly understood. I think that
the development of good theory on nonviolence in all its
aspects is a pressing need. Such theory should
parsimoniously convey what nonviolence is. It should
be able to explain occurring instances, and it should
help to identify the instances when they occur. It
should, furthermore, help us understand where to look
and what to look for (McCarthy & Kruegler, 1993) and
open up new areas of research and can serve as a
starting point for future practice. I have attempted to
contribute to this with this research, and my
suggestions for further research include the following.
In a general sense I think it is important to come to a
more integrated understanding of nonviolence, both in
its practices and strategies as well as in its
43
philosophical underpinnings, and especially on their
relation to each other. Much of the research done into
nonviolence has been done within specific disciplines
and domains which has made it hard to come to shared
conclusions and to integrate the different findings into
a coherent theory. Quite likely, this contributes to the
fact that nonviolence is still such a marginal subject
(see also J. Johansen, 2007). My research is an attempt
to come to such a more integrated understanding,
however, the five-fold model of nonviolence that I have
presented here should itself be the object of more
scrutiny.
An integrated understanding of nonviolence would
make it easier to investigate beliefs, subject claims to
criticism and identify points of consensus (McCarthy &
Kruegler, 1993).
From such an integrated
understanding, research could be more coherently
structured. It could perhaps lead to the establishment
of nonviolence as a specific field of study, within which
different sub-areas can be identified, without loosing
the opportunity for proper research accumulation and
theory building. This would also be beneficial for the
development of further nonviolence practices.
An integrated perspective of nonviolence would
make it easier to gain insight into the relevance of
nonviolence for other fields. Above, I have described
the relevance of nonviolence for humanistic studies, but
linkages with other fields like psychology, political
theory, economics and religious studies could (and
should) be more rigorously explored.
From my own perspective, I would like to stress the
importance of further developing the connection
between nonviolence and humanistic studies. My main
44
suggestions would include investigating the historic
relations between nonviolence thinking and practice
and the work of key figures in (Dutch) Humanism, such
as Erasmus and, more contemporary, Jaap van Praag
(see also Goelst Meijer, 2012; Schuhmann & Goelst
Meijer, 2012), Bart de Ligt and others.
Furthermore, resilience (as a translation of the
Dutch term geestelijke weerbaarheid, which more
emphasizes the inner, mental or spiritual aspects of
resilience) has been an important research topic over
the past few years within humanistic studies and
continues to be relevant. Nonviolence provides
interesting notions for the ongoing study of this form of
resilience.
Likewise, nonviolence provides a salient question
for the topic of ‘pluralism’, which has become the focus
of the humanistic research group on globalization
studies. Nonviolence deals with both the importance
and the problematic elements of pluralism, and does so
in a way that links aspects of humanization and
existential meaning. Although nonviolence, specifically
stressed by the element of satya, underscores the
importance of diversity and complexity and of multiple
views on reality, it does not imply relativism.
Epistemological respect for diversity can only be
created when there is a firm will to not harm others,
without stepping over one's own 'truths'. In addition,
tapasya points to the willingness to ‘draw yourself to a
halt’. These elements exist in a tense relationship, yet
nonviolent practices provide clues as to how to make
them work together.
I have stressed in the section on humanistic studies
above that nonviolence is an example of an approach
45
that links issues of meaning and humanization. It
provides examples of ways to work towards
humanization from an existential angle and, likewise, it
provides examples of the ‘humanization issues’ raised
by
attempts
to
answer
existential
questions.
Nonviolence thus could provide clues for the
development of a humanistic approach to conflict
handling.
Lastly, because humanistic studies is a field that
combines academic study with (the exploration and
development of) specific practices, it would be
interesting to see how specific nonviolence practices
relate to humanistic practices, such as humanist
counselling or education, and if they could be relevant
for each other. Specific contemporary nonviolent
practices have been mentioned in this study like
'nonviolent communication', 'nonviolent resistance to
violence in families' and 'Restorative Justice'. The
relevance of these practices could be studied in relation
to, for instance, humanist prison counselling,
humanistic education and organizational practices. All
these are, I think, important topics to explore further.
46
CHAPTER 2
Humanization and Development
Constructive Program as Structural
Nonviolence?
Thanks to recent scientific developments the world has
shrunk to such an extent that the echo of an incident in one
part of the world vibrates in other parts with equal
intensity. But at the same time increasing contact
between and dependence upon different peoples and cultures
has ironically widened the gap between the haves and havenots and has opened up innumerable avenues of friction and
distrust.
Razi Ahmad (1993)
HUMANIZATION12
The background for this article is the academic
research at the University of Humanistic Studies in The
Netherlands, whose interdisciplinary research program
focusses on ‘meaning‘ and ‘humanization’. Humanistic
studies aims at understanding and fostering a good and
12
This chapter is submitted as: Goelst Meijer, S.L.E. van, Humanization and
Development: Constructive Program as Structural Nonviolence? To the: Journal for
Peace and Justice Studies.
49
meaningful life within just institutions and a
sustainable global society for all (Kunneman, 2002).
Meaning, here, refers to existential meaning, connected
with personal answers to questions like: what is the
meaning of (my) life? What makes life good and
worthwhile? What does it mean to be human? It refers
to a personal sense of connection to the world, that
one’s life is part of a larger context that transcends the
immediate here and now, has a purpose, a reason or
value (Smaling & Alma, 2010).
Humanization, the other cornerstone of humanistic
studies, is concerned with the efforts to create just
institutions that make a good and meaningful life
possible:
specific for humanistic studies is that the ways in
which people give meaning to their life is critically
examined with regard to a just and solidary society.
On the other hand the efforts towards a humane
society are critically examined. An individual should
in the envisioned society, be able to build a
meaningful existence (Smaling & Alma, 2010, p. 12). 13
Humanization and meaning are closely connected.
Within the context of humanistic studies, it is
understood that existential meaning is a vital aspect of
life for every human being. Here humanistic studies is
not alone, this assumption is supported by other
disciplines such as religious studies and philosophy but
also psychology and medicine, although not always part
of the mainstream discourse (see for instance:
Antonovsky, 1996; Eriksson & Lindström, 2006).
13
50
Translation SvGM
To Victor Frankl, Austrian-American psychiatrist and
founder of ‘logotherapy’, the ‘will to meaning’, is the
force that sustains life (Frankl, 1963, 1969). Frustration
of this will to meaning leads to a marked loss of wellbeing, even illness and death. On the other hand,
Frankl describes how people can sustain the most
incredible hardships as long as life is experienced as
meaningful. Frankl bases this conclusion on his work as
a psychiatrist and on his experiences in the
concentration camps of Nazi Germany. There, he
observed that even though all inmates were suffering
from physical exhaustion, diseases and extreme
psychological stress, some managed to survive while
others died, sometimes even from minor inflictions.
Frankl observed a clear link between having something
to live for and surviving. He stated that:
There is nothing in the world, I venture to say, that
would so effectively help one to survive even the worst
conditions as the knowledge that there is a meaning in
one's life (Frankl, 1963, p. 109).
From his analyses we can derive the notion that
meaning is not something that becomes important
when all other problems in life are solved, rather that it
is a fundamental aspect of each and every human life.
In her inaugural lecture as professor at the University
of Humanistic Studies, Hans Alma states that quite
often existential questions are seen as problematic, and
as stemming from some kind of life-crisis (Alma, 2005).
A crisis can damage the sense of coherence or control
that was hitherto experienced. This leads a person to
question the meaning of life. Finding an answer is
51
necessary for normal life to take its course again. In
other words, the existential question is seen as a
problem that needs to be solved, and once solved the
need for existential questions is removed. Alma
disagrees with this idea and her views resonate with
those of Frankl. To Frankl, meaning is not something
that should be sought to repair a damaged life in order
to go back to the ‘daily goings on’, meaning should be
part of those ‘goings on’. Both assert that the will to
(Frankl) and the search for and experience of (Alma)
meaning are inherently part of being human.
Recent empirical research into the role of meaning
in relation to well-being, supports this. For instance, a
study by Fry (2000), suggests that there is a positive
relationship between the experience of meaning in life
with physical and mental health and general
adaptation. Fry concludes from her study that a felt
sense of existential meaning helps to “ameliorate
suffering, pain and physical distress” (Fry, 2000, p.
384), that a sense of meaning gives hope, and the
courage to cope with difficult circumstances. This is
supported by Mascaro and Rosen (2005) who state that
because humans have such a powerful will toward
meaning, existential meaning should be seen as a good
in itself. It has intrinsic value, not just utility in the
search for well-being.14
If the experience of meaning is so pivotal to human
life, situations in which that experience is compromised
could be termed dehumanizing. Dehumanization, then,
comprises not only deprivation, marginalization and
14
Frankl takes this even further and states that well-being or happiness is not
something one can strive for directly, but that it can only emerge as a ‘by-product’ of
the search for meaning (see: Frankl, 1963, p. 140).
52
suffering as such, but also the subsequent damage to
the possibilities for leading a meaningful life. To inhibit
a person’s capacity to experience meaning is then in
itself a form of dehumanization. In that case
humanization can be defined as the creation and
maintenance of (social) circumstances that foster a
meaningful life for all.
On the global level, international development is often
perceived as an effort towards humanization, an
attempt to create global circumstances that make a
meaningful life possible for all. However, even though
contemporary international development aid has a
history of over 60 years its efforts have not succeeded
to bring about humanization for all. On the contrary, it
seems that the development in some parts of the worlds
has come at the cost of dehumanization in other parts.
In the context of development studies, there have been
many discussions about how this is possible. In the
early 1990s some scholars claimed that international
development itself was the problem. Such statements
were made by the ‘post-development’ school (Alloo et
al., 2007; Escobar, 1995, 1999; Jenkins, 2000; Luymes,
2006; Rahnema & Bawtree, 1997; Sachs, 2010;
Siemiatycki, 2005; Ziai, 2007b). Some went as far as to
call
development
enforced
modernization
and
economization amounting to a form of violence or
dehumanization (Ziai, 2007a). Others maintain that,
although efforts of development might not have always
been successful, a certain level of economic
development and modernization is vital for creating a
peaceful society that fosters a meaningful life for all its
inhabitants. In the next section I will explore
53
international
humanization.
development
as
efforts
towards
INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT
Although some trace the roots of international
development back to missionary work and colonialism
(Parfitt, 2002; Thomas, 2000), twentieth century
development efforts have always been closely
connected to the ideal of modernization, specifically
that put forth by Harry Truman in his inaugural speech
in 1948. Cowen and Shenton (1996) show that
development can actually be understood in two
different ways. The first is that of modernization,
technological and economic development. The second is
the amelioration of problems caused by these processes
of modernization, globalization and industrialization. In
this stance, development is linked to the fight against
poverty and to the improvement of living conditions in
the Third World.15
Specifically during the 1950s development aid
became a political act, linked to both decolonization
and the stand-off between the eastern and the western
blocks. Aid became a tool to win newly emerging
independent countries over to the communist or
capitalist sphere of influence. Originally, the term Third
World designated those countries that did not want to
join either side and sought alternatives (a third way).
15
Although I do realize that this term is problematic, I also realize that each term from
a range of terms with the same general meaning is in some way problematic. The terms
Third World, Global South and developing country each have their own history and
semantic difficulties and are each prevalent in specific discourses. For this reason I have
chosen in this article to use the terms indiscriminately, as referring to those countries
that are mostly at the receiving end of (mainstream) development aid.
54
In the late 1950s and ‘60s, multilateral institutions
and the governments of the industrialized countries
began to draw up development strategies for countries
receiving aid, and focussed on economic growth,
modernization and the central role of development
experts (Black, 2002). At the end of the 1960s, although
most development countries had managed to raise their
GDP at least 5%, it also became clear that the wealth
was not ‘trickling down’. The idea emerged that
development policies needed to be revised and
diversified, adapted more to local needs and become
more accommodating to women, minorities and the
poorest and most vulnerable in societies. By the 1970s
these ideas had given rise to many NGO’s, institutes,
researchers, and specialists of many different
backgrounds (Black, 2002). This multitude of
organizations and theories notwithstanding, the desired
results were reached only in a few instances
(Schuurman, 1993).
When at the beginning of the 1990s the Soviet
Union broke apart, the overall consensus seemed to
become that modern capitalism was the path for all.
Yet, a growing body of literature under the name of
post-development, began to offer a radical critique to
the theory and practice of international development as
modernization. These theorists argued that what was
needed was an alternative to development itself (Ziai,
2007a). They believed that the modernist development
paradigm that has permeated society is, by its very
nature, unable to create real humanization; to foster a
meaningful life for all as described above.
55
POST – DEVELOPMENT
Post-development critique states that development is a
distinct creation connected to a political and economic
ideology and specific social theory. Development
projects have a strong socially constructed aspect,
which reflects western thought and interests. Postdevelopment scholars like Escobar (1995, 1999), Esteva
(2010), Rahnema (2001; 1997), Sachs (2010) and Rist
(1997) viewed development as having invented
underdevelopment. Where most other development
alternatives were construed within the existing
framework of knowledge and power, the postdevelopment school tried to analyse, deconstruct and
criticize this discourse.
Esteva argues that the term Development is a “very
powerful semantic constellation” (Esteva, 2010, p. 11),
because it refers to a natural process of growth. This
view of development as a linear and teleological path
entailed the creation of social evolutionist ideology,
whereby ‘barbaric’ cultures and peoples could also
become ‘civilized’ over time. This resulted in a
problematic hierarchy of nations that are developed
and
thereby
advanced,
and
those
that
are
underdeveloped and therefore inferior. But it is only
from a certain angle that such could be said:
If one defined violent crime, racism, suicide, isolation,
alienation, environmental destruction and the like as
major indicators of a ‘bad’ or ‘underdeveloped’ society
the industrialized countries would hardly be at the top
of the ‘development’ scale (Ziai, 2007a, p. 8).
Post-development ideas have from the outset been
heavily criticized in their own right. Some have claimed
56
that
although
post-development
scholars
place
themselves outside the development discourse, they are
themselves essentialist, viewing development as a
uniform enterprise which it is not (see for instance:
Nederveen Pieterse, 2010; Parfitt, 2002; Thomas,
2000). They state that the complete dismissal of
development is unhelpful with regard to the problems
of poverty and marginalization that are a reality for
many. Yet, Ziai claims, this criticism notwithstanding,
some elements of post-development thinking are by
now widely accepted. The first is that the ‘traditional’
concept of development is indeed Eurocentric, the
western society as the norm and others as “imperfect
deviations” (Ziai, 2007a, p. 8). The second is that
development is connected to the exercise of power.
Since development is always framed as positive social
change, whoever gets to define the utopian reference
point is in a position of power over those who should
achieve it (Ziai, 2007b). It is these utopian reference
points themselves that post-development criticizes
(Rist, 1997). Furthermore, states Ziai:
Post-development
authors
have
convincingly
demonstrated that some measures undertaken in the
name of ‘development’ had disastrous consequences
for those supposed to benefit. The violence they had to
suffer was directly related to their disempowerment
concerning the question whether they wanted this
‘development’ and to the question who is in a
discursive position to define the common good and to
dictate what (and who) can be sacrificed to achieve it
(Ziai, 2007a, p. 9).
57
For post-development scholars, this violence is inherent
in modernization. But however convincing the
arguments of the post-development school are, they do
not offer an answer to the question how best to address
both the violence inherent in modernity, as well as all
the inequality, suffering and marginalization present in
the world. Post-development thought does not offer
many concrete suggestions on how to come to
humanization.
MODERNITY(IES) AND STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE
Johan Galtung coined the term ‘structural violence’, to
point towards violence and dehumanization that
happens through and is inherent in social structures.
(Galtung, 1969). Structural violence is not directly and
deliberately committed by individuals, but rather:
“shows up as unequal power and consequently as
unequal life chances” (Galtung, 1969, p. 171). Social
structures - policies, laws, cultural or religious
institutions - can provide settings in which violence is
committed by simply complying with the structure.
The classical theories of modernization, upon which
the concept of development is based, all assume that
modernity as it emerged in Europe should eventually be
established globally (Luymes, 2006; Sachsenmaier,
Riedel, & Eisenstadt, 2002). Development has been
construed as a form of power use by post-development
scholars like Escobar (1995, 1999) and Ziai (Ziai,
2007b).
They
see
development
as
enforced
modernization, favouring only one approach to the good
life, which hampers those who do not lead a
modernized life from deciding over their own future
58
and limits their autonomy (Rahnema & Bawtree, 1997).
Since the utopian points of reference for development
are decided by those who give the aid, development has
become a way of ‘shaping the world’ according to the
parameters of those who have aid to give (Habermann
& Ziai, 2007). It can be argued that the aid is given by
those who benefit most from the current global
structures and thus have something to gain from
keeping those structures intact. Post-development
criticizes this form of power wielding over the third
world, and calls for the (re-)empowerment of
marginalized countries and groups. The question is how
this is possible, since those in power will be reluctant to
give it up, leaving very little room for change. To postdevelopment thinkers many instances of development
are in fact forms of violence (Ziai, 2007a).
The paradigm of nonviolence offers a critique to
(enforced) modernization that is similar to that of postdevelopment. At the same time it offers suggestions for
humanization, through what is called Constructive
Program. It also offers a suggestion on how to
understand and counter the various forms of ‘power
over’ that are found problematic by the postdevelopment school. In the following paragraphs I will
try to explain these concepts.
NONVIOLENCE
The roots of nonviolence as a method for social action
lie in the 19th century in the works of Thoreau, Tolstoy,
the British suffrage movement and others, culminating
in the work of Mohandas Gandhi, who for the first time
used mass organized nonviolence to create major social
59
and political change (Barak, 2003). His work directly
inspired people like Martin Luther King, Lanza del
Vasto, Dom Helder Camara and even today functions as
a jumping off-point for many individuals or
organizations that use a nonviolent approach. Each
translates
Ghandi’s
concepts
to
their
own
circumstances, expanding and elaborating different
elements. This has led to the emergence of nonviolence
as a paradigm; a coherent set of ideas that provide a
framework for understanding (social) reality (Slattery,
2003). When analysing this paradigm, five basic
elements emerge, that form the core of contemporary
nonviolence: satya, ahimsa, tapasya, sarvodaya and
swadeshi/swaraj. These Sanskrit terms were reconceptualized by Gandhi in a new way that made them
applicable in contemporary society. Today, as a result
of contemporary nonviolent efforts and experience
gained since Gandhi’s struggle, their meaning has
expanded even more.16 The five elements together form
a framework which can be used as a tool for analyses
as well as a starting point for formulating practice. In
the following paragraph I will explore these five
principles.
FIVE ELEMENTS
The first element is satya, meaning ‘truth’ in Sanskrit,
and for Gandhi the search for truth formed the essence
of his work (M. K. Gandhi, 1927a). To Gandhi, truth was
both universal as well as particular. He was convinced
that there was such a thing as universal truth, yet
16
Not all nonviolent practitioners used these terms, but the principles can be found in
all work on nonviolence.
60
people could only understand it in a relative sense.
Gandhi wanted people to examine each situation, to get
to understand what was at stake for all involved, so as
to arrive at a fuller understanding of truth. Although
people should strive to understand the truth of every
situation, one can never claim to be all-knowing.
Bilgrami (2011a) explains how, in Gandhian thought,
truth is based in experience. We can experience
something to be true, yet someone else can come to an
opposite conclusion based on his or her own
experiences. These truths then do not cancel each
other out, both experiences being real. In times of
disagreement, it could be that the other party sees
something more of the truth than we do, even though
we are convinced that we are right. This does not mean
that we should instantly give up our own ideas about
the truth, it means that we allow for the possibility for
both truths to exist. This would make satya an
extremely relative concept, were it not for the fact that
each experience still has universal value. The
experience of truth does not lead to a rule for everyone
to follow, but it does lead to a rule for oneself to follow.
Satya therefore implies that “we are dedicated to the
truth we perceive, to the truth we understand” (Thakar,
2005, p. 20). If we live from our own truth as we
understand it, setting an example, we can share our
truth with others and others their truth with us
(Bilgrami, 2011b; Thakar, 2005).
Ahimsa, literally meaning ‘the absence of the intention
to do harm’, implies nonviolence on the physical level,
but also through words, behaviour and thoughts
(Nagler, 2006). Ahimsa came to mean not only
harmlessness in a negative sense, avoiding harm, but
61
also in a positive sense, as addressing ‘harm’ for
instance through social service. When we encounter
circumstances in which we or others experience
injustice and we do not venture to remedy the situation,
we are from the point of view of nonviolence to a
certain extent complicit. Thus, acting without the
intention to do harm, means addressing the problems
we encounter as best we can.
Out of the five elements tapasya is usually the most
difficult to grasp, certainly from a western point of
view. Tapasya translates as both ‘heat’ and ‘suffering’.
The role of tapasya in nonviolence is threefold. First, it
implies the willingness to suffer instead of retaliating
when confronted with violence or injustice. This breaks
the cycle of violence. It is not the same as giving in. It
means addressing the violence by not participating in
the dynamic it calls for; fight, flight or freeze. Tapasya
then becomes an agent for self-transformation. An
example is the firm internal struggle to overcome ill
will to the opponent (Burrowes, 1996; Pelton, 1974).
Tapasya also points towards dedication or discipline.
Living according to ‘truth’ might require discipline
which can amount to ‘suffering’.
The fourth element of nonviolence is sarvodaya, or the
welfare of all. In a particular situation it would mean
the welfare of all involved in the situation. Solving any
form of injustice or conflict through nonviolence means
addressing the injustice, not the person committing it.
In the Christian vocabulary of Martin Luther King;
‘condemning the sin, not the sinner’ (King, 2001). The
welfare of all can, for instance, not be served if
punishment for an injustice causes harm in its own
right. Means and ends have to be in accordance.
62
The fifth element is that of swadeshi/swaraj.
Swadeshi means self-reliance, being able to care for
yourself, act independently. In a political sense
swadeshi implies economic self-reliance and having
your own institutions. For individuals it means to be as
self-sufficient as possible, to have agency and selfefficacy and create the circumstances that allow you to
do so. Swaraj means self-rule. This can refer to political
autonomy. But it also implies autonomy at the personal
level, like not giving in to impulses or habits or
coercion by others (tapasya), not violating the
autonomy of others (ahimsa), being able to make your
own choices based on the truth as you understand it
(satya), with a view to the welfare of all (sarvodaya). It
is thus a relational concept of autonomy, meaning that
one’s autonomy can only exist in relation to that of
others.17 Taken together these five elements form the
basis for a process of nonviolence.
PRINCIPLE AND STRATEGY
Nonviolence is often understood in two distinct ways:
as either a principle or as a strategy (Nagler, 2006). Of
the two, strategic nonviolence has been the most widely
studied. Strategic nonviolence points to nonviolence as
a method for struggle, which can be applied for a
number of (strategic) reasons. Either because one does
not condone the use of violence on religious, ethical of
cultural grounds or because one feels nonviolence is
17
To completely explore the concept of relational autonomy here, would take too
long. For an excellent introduction to the concept see: (Mackenzie & Stoljar, 2000) and
for an in-depth exploration of its role in nonviolence see chapter 6 in this volume.
63
simply the most sensible method.18 A thorough study of
strategic nonviolence and the various methods that can
be applied in its context has been done by Gene Sharp
(Sharp, 1973b). He refers to nonviolence as a way of
confronting the opponent’s power by performing a form
of “political Jiu-Jitsu” (Sharp, 1973b, pp. 451, 453),
using various forms of protest, non-cooperation, and
nonviolent intervention. What his study addresses only
to a limited extent, as is true for strategic nonviolence
in general, is the correspondence between ends and
means and the importance of nonviolence as an
attitude.
Nonviolence as an attitude, applied in all parts of
life, is what is referred to as principled nonviolence
(Nagler, 2006). Someone adhering to principled
nonviolence would use the various strategic methods
when engaged in conflict or struggle, but would in all
other circumstances also try to apply nonviolence.
Where strategic nonviolence focuses solely on
behaviour,
principled
nonviolence
focuses
on
nonviolence as a way of being in the world (rooted in
the fivefold framework outlined above) from which
behaviour, but also thought, speech and understanding
of the world follow.
CONSTRUCTIVE PROGRAME
When we look at nonviolence as a praxis, we can also
divide it into two distinct but related sections,
‘constructive program’ (M. K. Gandhi, 1927b) and
‘obstructive program’ (Nagler, 2004). Obstructive
18
Possible reasons are that the opponent is much stronger, or that one cannot get the
necessary weapons, or the use of violence would harm the public opinion on the cause.
64
program - the various forms of protest against and noncooperation with violence and injustice- is most widely
known. Yet, for Gandhi, obstructive program was only
an aid to the constructive side (. Many have recognised,
like Gandhi did, that it is not enough to get rid of
dehumanising practices without creating something
better to take its place:
In cases where political revolutions have taken place
but the population is not organized to exercise selfdetermination, the creation of a new society has been
extremely difficult. In some cases, the usurpation of
power by a new dictatorship has been the result; in
others,
there has been political regime change
without
fundamental
social
or
economic
transformation (Sheehan, 2006, p. 5).
Gandhi created a program of 18 points, all of which
were to contribute to the uplift of the country (M. K.
Gandhi, 1927b). To Gandhi, constructive programe
meant building the new society in the shell of the old
(Sheehan, 2006) and comprised the “construction of
complete independence by truthful and nonviolent
means” (A. Gandhi, 1997, p. 4) (. It aimed at building
self-confidence among the people and at the creation of
structures that would satisfy human needs in a just
manner. Robert Burrowes observes:
the constructive program is (…) designed to facilitate
the development of new social structures that foster
political participation, cultural diversity, economic
self-reliance, and ecological resilience. (…), if new
types of structures are not being created to replace
the old, then even a successful nonviolent defence will
65
merely deliver control of the old and inadequate state
structure to a new elite (Burrowes, 1996, p. 216).
Gandhi was adamant that the subjugation of the
Indian people by the British was partly due to their
own, miss-perceived weakness and that it was by the
correction of this perception that swadeshi and
subsequently swaraj would be possible.
Given that Indians had contributed to their state of
dependence and subjugation, Gandhi reasoned that
they had a role to play in reclaiming home rule.
India’s political autonomy, according to Gandhi,
depended on social and cultural reform (L. Trivedi,
2007, p. 6).
Although Gandhi’s 18-point program comprised
such things as access to appropriate education,
promotion of health and hygiene, the use of local
language, economic equality and the empowerment of
women, the main focus came on the production of
khadi, or homespun cotton. This served both a very
concrete, and a number of deeply symbolic, but no less
important goals. Before colonization the production of
cloth had been a major village industry and Indian
fabric was considered one of the best in the world.
During colonial rule, it was one of the main products
the British took from India. Taking back the production
of cotton cloth both damaged British economic profits
and made affordable cloth once again available to all
Indians. Furthermore it showed that there was nothing
inferior about India’s traditional methods. In other
words, constructive programe was aimed at creating
66
swaraj and swadeshi at the personal level, so that those
could become a political reality as well.
Gandhi was not the only one for whom a
constructive program was crucial. One of his
contemporaries, Abdul Ghaffar Khan, for instance,
started his nonviolent resistance to the British
occupation of the Northwest Frontier Province by
opening schools for the local population (R. C.
Johansen, 1997).19 Eventually, this developed into the
organization Khudai Khidmatgars.20
Shaped in the image of an army, but completely
dedicated to nonviolence the Khudai Khidmatgars
were committed to create economic, social and
political change. The Khidmatgars worked completely
voluntary dedicating their work to God, their oath
stating that ‘…I am a Servant of God, and as God
needs no service, but serving his creation is serving
him, I promise to serve humanity in the name of God
(Easwaran, 1999, p. 111).
The Khidmatgars “opened schools, worked on local
development
projects,
promoted
hygiene
and
sanitation, and maintained order at public meetings”
(R. C. Johansen, 1997, p. 59). Women were admitted to
their ranks, on an equal standing with the men. The
Khidmatgars:
did not simply vow to use non- violence in a crusade
to oust the British. (…) Ghaffar Khan and his coworkers sought to help people win self-respect and
human dignity through human solidarity - a solidarity
19
20
This area is part of today’s Pakistan and Afghanistan
Kudhai Khidmatgars translates as Servants of God
67
with others that would hinge on refusing to use
violence against another person (R. C. Johansen,
1997, p. 59).
Like Gandhi, Khan was convinced that the Pashtuns
themselves were to a large extent responsible for their
occupation. 21 Not that the British were not responsible,
on the contrary, their treatment of the Pashtuns was
brutal and devastating. But Khan believed strongly that
the blood feuds and tribal rivalry that was such an
intricate part of the Pashtun culture, would have to end
in order to create a healthy society. “He was convinced
that the pervasive violence of his society was
responsible for its inability to uplift itself” (R. C.
Johansen, 1997, p. 58).
The fact that Gandhi and Khan both understood the
predicament of their peoples as partly their own
responsibility is an important, though perhaps
somewhat problematic aspect. They did not maintain
that in case of injustice it is the responsibility of the
victim. What they did maintain has something to do
with their view on power. To Gandhi and Khan (and
later to others like Martin Luther King and Vaclav
Havel) the powerlessness of their peoples is a
perceived powerlessness. They maintain that there is
another form of power that could be applied that is able
to counter the power that perpetrators have over
victims. They understand nonviolence as a way to
harness what Kenneth Boulding (1990) calls integrative
power.
21
68
Pashtuns are one of the largest ethnic groups in Afghanistan today.
INTEGRATIVE POWER
Power is often related to our ability to make others do
what we want, regardless of their own wishes or
interests (M. Weber, 1991). In a more general sense,
Boulding states it is a way to ‘get things done’. For
Boulding, from the three ‘faces’, or ways of wielding of
power, integrative power is the most important in
comparison to the other two; threat and exchange
power, which are often together paraphrased as ‘the
carrot and the stick’. Integrative power is the power of
human relationships. It is connected to everything that
establishes a relationship either personal or in the form
of institutions or organizations. Love, respect,
legitimacy and consent are all expressions of
integrative power. Although it is the power that is least
understood, it is the kind of power that underlies all
other forms. In everyday life most forms of exercising
power consist of a combination of the three faces. But
there are certain emphases. Exchange power is most
prominently present in anything connected to the
economy, but also to everything that uses incentives
(the carrot) to get things done. Yet, for instance,
legitimacy and trust, both forms of integrative power,
play a huge role in the stock exchange, and without
regulations and the penalties to back them up
production and trade cannot proceed. Threat power is
present in the military, but also in anything else that
uses some form of penalty to make things happen (the
stick). The military symbolizes threat power, but cannot
exist without exchange power in the form of money, nor
without integrative power in the form of morale and
legitimacy. Underlying all forms of power is integrative
power. Systems and institutions can only function if
69
people cooperate. Even in the staunchest dictatorships,
as soon as enough people stop cooperating, the system
collapses.
Because all human beings exist within relationships,
integrative power is open to all, even to those who are
traditionally assumed to have no power. “It is this
definition of power, as a process that occurs in
relationships, that gives us the possibility of
empowerment" (Page & Czuba, 1999, p. 3). Boulding’s
analysis explains why nonviolence, understood as the
wielding of integrative power, can function as both a
means to resist violence and a means to create new
systems. When looking for alternatives to development
the creation of new ‘development structures’ and the
withdrawal of participation from those who are deemed
problematic is a step in that direction. In the next
section I will explore ‘constructive program’ as a way to
do so.
The constructive work was meant to evoke this
integrative power in people who saw themselves as
being at the mercy of threat and exchange power. Thus,
constructive program holds keys for humanization
(creating just institutions that foster a meaningful life).
It is a way to make it possible for people to perceive
themselves as being able to wield power, even though
from a certain angle they could be viewed as powerless.
CONSTRUCTIVE PROGRAM AND MODERNIZATION
Inherent in constructive program, is a firm critique of
modernization (A. Gandhi, 1997; Jahanbegloo, 2013;
Terchek, 1998). Constructive program was meant to
address structural violence, in fact one could say it is
70
an attempt at structural nonviolence. From the point of
view of nonviolence, development as enforced
modernization is indeed a form of structural violence.
Not only because it disadvantages people who do not
lead a modern life, but also because it enforces a way of
life that favours a limited amount of aspects of the
human experience (Jahanbegloo, 2013). Khan and
Gandhi emphasize traditional approaches in their work,
which has often led to the idea that they are
traditionalists. They are not.22 They both use and
criticize aspects of modernity and tradition alike.
Furthermore they use traditional approaches to the
good life to criticize modernity, because modernity
hardly criticizes itself. Gandhi’s criticism of modernity
focuses on its lack of restraints. Gandhi sees the
essence of modernity as ‘taking charge of the world’,
whereas to him the essence of the good life is to take
charge of ourselves, so we are free to decide how we
want to be in the world (Terchek, 1998).
In the next section I want to explore two
‘alternative’ development approaches that each in their
own way de-link development from modernization and
embody the nonviolent principles outlined above:
Endogenous development and Undeveloping the North.
NONVIOLENT DEVELOPMENT?
Concluding from the analyses above, a nonviolent
approach
to
development
would
resemble
a
constructive program, building institutions that harness
integrative power. It would be foremost based on local
visions of the good life, giving rise to a diversity of
22
For a more in-depth discussion on this matter see (Terchek, 1998)
71
development paths. From a nonviolent viewpoint, each
develops himself or his own society or community, with
a view towards the welfare of all. For this, it might be
necessary to restrain certain developments of one
group or person, so as not to harm or marginalize
others. Both Undeveloping the North (UtN) and
Endogenous development (ED) fit within this aim.
UNDEVELOPING THE NORTH
BUKO (Bundeskoordination Internationalismus, or
Federal Coordination of Internationalism) originated as
an overarching network of small German development
initiatives. Over the years, the organization grew
increasingly critical of the concept of development and
its consequences. In their search for ‘a truly global
perspective on liberation and emancipation’, ’the
political and utopian points of reference’ within the
organization shifted (Habermann & Ziai, 2007). BUKO
focussed on formulating a new kind of internationalism,
in which the need and action for global change were
conceptualised from both the North and the South.
In this, they not only intended to reject the aspects of
domination in modernity’s promise of development,
but also investigated the extent to which people in the
north were complicit in it (Habermann & Ziai, 2007,
p. 215).
The organization opened up to other groups, working
on other themes related to social justice and global
change, such as racism, feminism, immigration rights
and queer issues, which it saw as inherently connected.
To the participants in BUKO the implications of the
72
rejection of development went beyond development
itself. It was connected to the rejection of a hegemonic
model of understanding the world, in which a specific
mode of behaviour was both explicitly and implicitly
enforced (see Spehr, 1997). In this light, the dismissal
of development as done by the post-development school
was not enough, because it still implied that: “If
development was to be implemented in the South, and
it failed in the South, it is there that we should look for
alternatives” (Habermann & Ziai, 2007, p. 212). But, if
we are looking for a truly global perspective on
humanization, opposition and change should not only
come from those who are affected most negatively by
the current global situation. Those who benefit should
also re-evaluate the current situation and instigate
change.
Undeveloping the North refers strictly speaking not to
a geographical area, but to a social order and a
system of domination which is based on the unequal
access and exploitation of labour and nature. (…)
Undeveloping means disempowering the North,
pushing back asymmetrical access and domination in
all its dimensions, (…) in order to provide space for
autonomous ways of living (Habermann & Ziai, 2007,
p. 216).
Christoph Spehr links UtN to autonomy, when he states
that the North has to be restructured so that it can
become self-sufficient and does not have to lean heavily
on the resources of the south as it does now (Spehr,
1996, 1997). Spehr explains that UtN is conceptualized
as an attempt to curb those structures that force
people(s) to give up their labour and (natural)
73
resources at every cost. This is something that happens
throughout the world, regardless of the location.
Indeed, the global North has too much intervention
power vis-à-vis the global South. But UtN also involves
curbing environmentally destructive practices and
revaluing locally appropriate techniques and ways of
life (Spehr, 1996). Likewise, it involves curbing the
global sector, both through divestment as well as
individual non-participation. Buying local is one
example of how this can be practised. Thirdly, UtN calls
for the reform of global labour and the de-privileging of
formal work: reducing the emphasis on formal wage
labour. This would imply the access to basic social
security measures for all, loosening the compulsion to
‘sell at any price’ as well as rejecting the divide
between formal and informal labour and the division of
labour along gender lines. Fourthly, it involves radical
regional autonomy, re-establishing personal and localcollective (instead of corporate) control of spaces and
social relations and establishing (agricultural) cooperations catering to local needs, instead of the world
market. UtN implies taking completely different
viewpoints seriously, even if they are pre-modern or
stem from a very specific cultural background. Likewise
it implies not throwing away modern or technical
solutions simply because they are modern.
UtN is not a call to return to a pre-modern lifestyle.
Nor is it a romantic ideal of pure, natural, and simple
living. Rather, it is a call to the reduction of coercion
and the enhancement of global autonomy. It radically
politicizes subsistence (Spehr, 1997). Choosing a
lifestyle based on locally available resources (both
natural and social) and devoid of coercion quite likely
74
means taking a step back in terms of available options
and luxuries. Such a step back becomes a political act
when taken with a view toward global development and
humanization.
In other words Undeveloping the North is a radical
re-imagining
of
North-South
relations,
global
governance
and
global
economic
and
social
organization, that implies a radical restructuring of the
current way of life, especially in the North. Thus, it
calls for a situation in which people(s) are not forced to
comply with one specific model of the good life (in
moral, cultural, spiritual, economic and political sense),
but rather are free to find their own models. It is an
attempt at institutional diversity.
ENDOGENOUS DEVELOPMENT
Another approach that takes an alternative viewpoint
on development and radically criticizes its strong
emphasis
on
modernization
is
Endogenous
Development. Endogenous (from within) Development
refers to an approach that is based on people’s own
criteria for well-being and the good life (Hiemstra,
2010).
It is mainly, though not exclusively, based on locally
available resources, such as land, water, vegetation,
knowledge,
skills
and
competencies,
culture,
leadership and the way people have organized
themselves (Haverkort, 2007, p. 31).
Although ED is based in local practices, it has “an
openness that allows for the integration of outside
knowledges and practices” (Röling, 2007, p. 101). The
75
basis of ED thinking is to take the actual and specific
situations of a locality and work from there to come to
solutions to problems or to open up new roads for
development. Extra-local inventions are not cast aside
necessarily, but are
deconstructed and recomposed to suit local
conditions, perspectives and interests, and local
resources thereby become the conceptual standard
against which the utility of the extra-local is evaluated
(Jenkins, 2000, p. 307).
The approach, therefore starts by looking inward to
discover, recover, or invent the identity of the
territory, from which resources to drive and define
development can be generated (Ray, 1999, p. 259).
That this dynamic between intra- and extra local
resources is important explains Gaston Remmers when
he observed that in a certain project:
The contributions of outsiders, both with respect to
their knowledge (…) ideological convictions and
different background, have been able to break
through (…) local power structures and stimulate
individual profit making.(…) It must be stressed,
however, that endogenous development should also
be understood as a process over which the local
people have control (Remmers, 1994, pp. 148–9).
In other words, outside influences can lead to valuable
innovations or provide new perspectives when old
habits have become counterproductive. Yet, the
decision making process and thus, the control over
which outside interventions to incorporate should be in
76
local hands. ED does not imply non-modernization, but
it does imply controlled and selective modernization
and it implies taking local and traditional practices as
seriously as modern ones.
ED rests on the assumption that all communities in
principle have the capacity for self-determination and
development. Niels Röling states that ED as an
approach is especially important in terms of developing
self-confidence and creating just institutions (Röling,
2007). It generates a firm idea of and being grounded
in one’s own potential, wishes and needs and of one’s
place in the world.
That endogenous development is not only suitable
for countries ‘in the south’, proves the research done
by Van der Ploeg into ED initiatives in Europe (Ploeg &
Dijk, 1995; Ploeg & Long, 1994). Here also, ED
developed as a response to loss of local traditions,
environmental problems as a result of industrial
farming and the felt loss of local cohesion. European
farmers-organizations are trying to revive traditions or
prevent
local and
sustainable
practices
from
disappearing. The specific and very diverse styles of
farming that developed over centuries to cope with
ecological and social particularities were systematically
eliminated from scientific farming (Haan & Ploeg,
1994; Roep & Bruin, 1994). Yes, modern farming has
led to greater yields and has, from that angle, been a
success. But the environmental and social “side effects”
(Roep & Bruin, 1994, p. 219) are severe enough to
rethink the approach. Local strategies are not only
more suitable in an instrumental sense but are also
deeply meaningful. “Each style of farming reflects a
specific normative perspective on farm development
77
(how ‘good’ farming practices are socially defined)”
(Roep & Bruin, 1994, pp. 220–1). Furthermore, many
local practices (agricultural or other) are deeply
connected to cultural and social practices as well as
religious beliefs and views of one’s place and purpose
in life.
TOWARDS CONSTRUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT?
Of these two approaches, it is most easy to construe
Endogenous
Development
as
an
example
of
constructive program. It offers a pro-active approach to
development that fits the local context, from within. ED
emphasizes satya since part of the process is a search
for which elements of both tradition and modernity are
best suited in each situation. It emphasizes
swadeshi/swaraj in that it starts from peoples’ own
ideas about the good life and the process aims to
empower people to take their own development into
their own hands, on their own terms. This itself leads to
social changes, and is a way to harness integrative
power. It is perhaps less obvious to understand
Undeveloping the North as an example of constructive
program. From the perspective of nonviolence this
approach puts more emphasis on tapasya, asking the
global North to take a step back. But the approach also
calls for autonomy and self-sufficiency by emphasizing
that the global North should be able to take care of
itself. The two approaches together change the view
from development as something that happens in the
Third World to something that happens everywhere and
connect the development of one county to that of
another. Thus, a global vision for development is
78
created, geared towards sarvodaya, the welfare of all.
For this to happen, a drastic reform of global structures
and institutions is necessary. Local self-sufficiency is
something that can only be created pro-actively by the
people of the locality. Undeveloping the North can
therefore not be understood as merely an obstructive
idea. It is also a constructive program aiming to build
those (global) structures that allow for the welfare of
all.
SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION
In this article I have attempted to look at nonviolence
as a method towards humanization and used the
example of international development, to do so. From
the background of humanistic studies, which studies
existential meaning and humanization I have defined
humanization as efforts towards creating social
circumstances that foster a meaningful life for all.
International development is often seen as a
humanization effort, contributing to the improvement of
global socio-economic circumstances so the possibility
of a meaningful life can come within reach of all.
Development, as it is understood today, has a history of
roughly 60 years and is rooted in modernity thinking.
Development was meant to make a modern life possible
around the globe. Yet, development efforts have not
always been successful. Specifically from the point of
view of post-development thinking, development is seen
as a process of enforced modernization. Such a process
has been conceptualised as a form of structural
violence, systematically depriving non-modernized
people(s) of the power to define their own ways of good
79
living. Therefore, post-development thinkers are not
satisfied with development alternatives which are just
different ways towards the same goal. They want
alternatives to development, that can conceptualise
processes of humanization from a more inclusive angle.
Although some of the insights of post-development have
made it into the mainstream development discussions,
true alternative ways towards humanization have not
emerged on a global scale. Even the post-development
school itself did not formulate many concrete
alternatives.
Modern nonviolence thinking is rooted in the work
of Gandhi, upon which others have since elaborated
through theory and action. The nonviolent approach
rests on the search for truth (satya), the firm intention
not to commit harm (ahimsa), limiting oneself (tapasya)
so the well-being of all (sarvodaya) can emerge. Such a
process is firmly connected to the harnessing of
integrative power, which is connected to autonomy and
self-reliance (swadeshi/swaraj). Like post-development,
nonviolence inherently criticizes modernity. Specifically
those aspects that exclude all other views of ‘the good’
and thus contribute to a diminishing diversity. From the
perspective of nonviolence, constructive program is
way to combat structural violence. Constructive
program comprises autonomous and pro-active ways to
create new institutions, resting on the principles of
nonviolence, that allow for a diversity of approaches to
the good life, specifically those that are appropriate
within the local context. In a way, constructive program
aims at structural nonviolence. How to envision such
practices on a global scale can be seen from both
‘Endogenous Development’ as well as ‘Undeveloping
80
the North’, both of which embody nonviolence
practices. Neither one of these approaches are
presented here as a panacea. They have been tried in
practice on a limited scale and each present their own
problems. Yet they offer a truly alternative vision for
conceptualising global processes of development so
that they can become more humanizing.
The scope of this article does not leave enough
room to elaborate on all discussed concepts as in-depth
as they deserve, leaving quite some room for
discussion. Also, further studies into the different
aspects of humanization, nonviolence and their relation
to development should be done. Likewise, study into
the implementation and outcomes of approaches like
‘Undeveloping
the
North’
and
‘Endogenous
Development’, and how these relate to the theoretical
underpinnings elaborated above, would make the
discussion more nuanced. Yet, I hope to have shown
that from the paradigm of nonviolence it becomes
possible to think about processes of humanization in a
way that is not exclusively tied to one understanding of
the good life, and why this is important from both a
humanistic and a global perspective.
81
CHAPTER 3
The Power of the Truthful
Understanding Satya in Nonviolence Through the
Work of Gandhi and Havel
The logic of a story resembles the logic of games, a logic of
tension between what is known and not known, between rules
and chance, between the inevitable and the unforeseeable.
We never really know what will emerge from the
confrontation, what elements may yet enter into it, and how it
will end; it is never clear what potential qualities it will
arouse in a protagonist and what action he will be led to
perform by the action of his antagonist. For this reason alone,
mystery is a dimension of every story. What speaks to us
through a story is not a particular agent of truth; instead, the
story manifests the human world to us as an exhilarating
arena where many such agents come into contact with each
other.
Václav Havel (1988)
INTRODUCTION23
Conflicting global narratives on good or right living,
based on conflicting truth-claims, can and often do lead
to violence. We need not look far to find examples in
23
This chapter has been published as: Goelst Meijer, S.L.E. van (2015), The Power of
the Truthful: Understanding Satya in Nonviolence Through the Work of Gandhi and
Havel in: The International Journal on World Peace., vol. XXXII, no. 2
83
contemporary religious, ethnic or ideological conflicts
that confirm this. Yet, one of the central elements in the
practice of nonviolence is that of satya, a Sanskrit term
best translated as ‘truth’. In this article I will address
this paradox by arguing that satya points to a very
specific conception of truth, which I will explore by
examining satya in the lives and work of both
Mohandas Gandhi and Václav Havel. I use the term
nonviolence here not only to point to the absence of
violence in solving problems, but as a coherent set of
ideas and practices that provide a framework for
understanding (social) reality.
The roots of contemporary nonviolence lie, to an
important extent, in the work of Mohandas Gandhi.
Gandhi construed nonviolence, an ancient religious and
philosophical concept, into a new systematic and proactive way that made it applicable in contemporary
society. He used it as a guiding principle in his own life
and as a method for waging struggle against injustice
and oppression. Since Gandhi, nonviolence has been a
method of addressing conflicts and injustices for both
large social movements, as well as for private people in
interpersonal conflicts. An example of this latter case is
the method of Nonviolent Communication, devised by
Marshall
Rosenberg
(Rosenberg,
2003,
2005).
Prominent examples of nonviolent social movements
are the civil rights movement in the USA, the overthrow
of president Marcos in the Philippines of the 1980s and
the movement of Charter 77 in then Czechoslovakia, of
which Václav Havel was a distinguished member. Each
translates
Gandhi’s
concepts
to
their
own
circumstances, expanding and amending different
84
aspects. This has led to the emergence of a nonviolence
paradigm (Nagler, 2004), in which five basic elements
appear: satya or ‘truth’, ahimsa or ‘the intention not to
harm’, tapasya or ‘self-suffering’, sarvodaya or ‘the
welfare of all’ and swadeshi/swaraj or ‘authenticity and
relational autonomy’.
Each of these elements is a complex and layered
notion and each is equally important in a process of
nonviolence. I will focus in this paper specifically on the
element satya, or truth. I denote these concepts here
with the Sanskrit terms originating in the work of
Gandhi, because I believe these terms are able to
adequately capture this complexity. I pose that satya as
a central element is present in each nonviolent process.
This does, however, not necessarily mean that the term
satya itself is used in all circumstances. Even so, it is
my claim that although in different contexts different
terms are used, they point to what in a general sense
can be called satya. To clarify this concept and its role
in nonviolence I will start by explaining the origin of the
term in the work of Gandhi and go on to compare this
with the work of Václav Havel and his intellectual
mentor Jan Patocka who both focus overtly on the
importance of ‘living in truth’.
GANDHI’S TRUTH
Satya derives from the Sanskrit root sat meaning ‘to
be’. It refers both to truth in the sense of truthfulness
or honesty, and to truth as ‘that which exists’, or
reality. Gandhi’s search for truth is directed towards
understanding reality at the deepest level as well as
living in accordance with that understanding. This
85
‘search for truth’ formed the essence of his work. He
gave his socio-political struggles the name satyagraha,
meaning truth-force,24 and his life was to become a
string of ‘experiments with truth’ (M. K. Gandhi,
1927a). To Gandhi, truth is both universal as well as
particular. He is convinced that there was an Ultimate
Truth, but is equally convinced that people can only
understand it in a relative sense. What is more, one can
only find it in experience (Chatterjee, 1986).
Although Gandhi’s thought is firmly based in the
specific Hindu tradition of his native Gujarat, it is also
shaped by elements of other religious traditions like
Jainism and Christianity, as well as secular and political
works of, among others, Ruskin and Thoreau (Bilgrami,
2011a). Gandhi refutes the idea that an understanding
of truth and reality can come from knowing dogmas or
religious or theoretical principles. Fundamental to his
ideas on truth is the Jain concept of anekantavada or
“…the many sidedness of all phenomena” (Steger,
2006, p. 342). In explaining this position, Gandhi points
to the parable of the blind men and the elephant.
Wanting to know what an elephant is like, the blind
men gather round the animal and each examine the
elephant by touching it. Every man comes to a
completely different conclusion as to what an elephant
is like, based on the part it was able to touch. 'The
Elephant is thin and squirmy' says the one who has
touched the tail; ‘it is solid and steady' concludes the
one who has touched the leg. None are wrong, since
each has felt something that is indeed part of the
24
The word satyagraha was coined by Gandhi to denote his method for socio-political
change. It consists of satya, truth, and agraha, to hold on to, or to firmly grasp. Literally
it means ‘to firmly hold on to truth’, but it is mostly translated with truth-force.
86
elephant, but the complete elephant is all these parts
put together, and more. Gandhi’s satya is therefore not
(solely) a notion that departs from postulates about
truth. Gandhi departs from the premise that each truth
“carries the conviction it does for those who experience
it, and not for others” (Bilgrami, 2011a, p. 96). We can
experience something to be true, yet others can come
to an opposite conclusion based on their own
experiences. These truths then do not cancel each
other out, both experiences being real, but they each
represent different facets of reality. Gandhi states:
It has been my experience that I am always true from
my point of view, and am often wrong from the point
of view of my honest critics. I know that we are both
right from our respective points of view. (…) The
seven blind men who gave seven different
descriptions of the elephant were all right from their
respective points of view, and wrong from the point of
view of one another, and right and wrong from the
point of view of the man who knew the elephant (M.
K. Gandhi, 1999c, p. 410)
Thus, to Gandhi the realization that our truths only
represent facets of the ultimate truth leads him to an
“epistemological respect for the view of others” (Koller,
2004, p. 88).
When we take this at face-value, it would follow that
satya is an extremely relative concept, almost a matter
of taste. Yet in all of Gandhi’s life and work it shows
that he cares deeply and that his convictions are no
mere matter of taste. As said, to Gandhi satya has both
a relative and a universal meaning. Understanding
Ultimate Reality as plural Gandhi sees each particular
87
experience of truth as representing Universal Truth.
Therefore each particular understanding of truth does
have universal value, since it represents something of
the human experience (Bilgrami, 2011a). Gandhi called
people to examine each situation, to get to understand
what was at stake for all involved, so as to arrive at a
fuller understanding of truth. Although people should
strive to understand the truth of every situation, one
can never claim to be all-knowing. Therefore, in times
of disagreement, it could be that the other party sees
something more of the truth than we do, even though
we are convinced that we are right. This does not mean
that we should instantly give up our own ideas about
the truth; it means that we allow for the possibility for
both truths to exist.
Because Gandhi denies the possibility for any one
person or group to hold absolute truth, he also denies
the ability for any one person or group to pass ultimate
judgement, or to create dogmatic rules that everyone
should follow (Steger, 2006). Therefore, to Gandhi,
satya is intertwined with another of the fundamental
principles in nonviolence: ahimsa, or 'the absence of
the intention to do harm' (Nagler, 2006). Harm, here
does not only point to the effects physical, emotional or
verbal violence, but is also the consequence of ill will,
of negative attitudes and criticisms against others. As I
will explain below, Gandhi does not mean that one
should uncritically agree with all other views, what he
does mean has to do with the way in which we act when
confronted with a conflicting truth claim.
When we create universal principles from our own
experiences it follows that others, who do not follow the
same principle are wrong and deserve our criticism and
88
contempt. It is this attitude that to Gandhi lies at the
bases of violence. When confronted with an opposing
truth claim, we should not try to enforce our own view,
or coerce others into taking our stand. One cannot find
truth without practising ahimsa. In criticizing others we
place ourselves and our own view above others.
Instead, according to Gandhi, truth can only be found
through the interaction of competing views of reality
and the integration of those competing visions into a
more complex notion of truth (Cortright, 2008).
Similarly, Gandhi emphasizes the connection between
means and ends, which he sees as two sides of the
same coin. If human beings cannot have absolute
knowledge, neither can they have a full conception of
the ‘ends’ of their actions. But the means they use to
get there are “certain and concrete” (Cortright, 2008,
p. 215). Our means should therefore reflect our ends
and that leaves ahimsa, acting with the intention not to
harm, as the only defendable means trough which truth
can be realized (Steger, 2006).
To Gandhi, satya is also about putting his own truth
at the service of others, so that everyone has the
opportunity to develop a deeper level of satya. Each
particular understanding of truth, although not an
absolute, does have universal value since it represents
a part of reality (Bilgrami, 2011a). It is here that he
makes the connection with the other understanding of
satya, that of honesty or truthfulness. Our experience of
truth cannot lead to a rule for everyone to follow, but it
does lead to a rule for oneself to follow: “the very idea
of principles (or doctrines) is replaced by the idea of
exemplarity” (Bilgrami, 2011a, p. 118). Satya therefore
implies that “we are dedicated to the truth we perceive,
89
to the truth we understand” (Thakar, 2005, p. 20). If we
live from our own truth as we understand it, setting an
example, we can share our truth with others and other
truths become available to us. Since these truths are all
representations of Ultimate Truth, the confrontation
with other views leads to a new experience, making a
deeper understanding of satya possible.
When confronted with a view that is in direct
opposition to our own, or which is perceived as wrong,
the only option is that of persuasion, not coercion. By
completely and honestly acting upon the truth we
perceive, thus presenting a different reality, we might
persuade the other to change their view, or we might
change our own. The other option is to search for a
“mutually satisfactory and agreed-upon solution”
(Bondurant, 1965, p. 195). But this can only happen if
we take the experience and the truth of others as
serious as those of ourselves. Conflicts are thus an
opportunity to come to a higher, more complex
understanding of truth, provided they are dealt with
nonviolently. In other words, to Gandhi, real truth
emerges in the ‘in-between’, in the spaces between
different experiences that are related.
TRUTH TELLING IN WESTERN DISCOURSE
A lot has happened in the theory and practice of
nonviolence since Gandhi. Although the direct
connection with the eastern traditions and their
understanding of truth is not necessarily present in
each nonviolent process, the search for truth and living
up to it, certainly is. Sometimes it is phrased as
‘speaking truth to power’. In the practice of Nonviolent
90
Communication it takes the shape of looking for the
thoughts,
feelings
and
needs
we
have
and
communicating them honestly.
To investigate how this concept of truth in
nonviolence, emerges in other contexts than that of
Gandhi, I will explore the life and work of playwright,
activist and former Czech president Václav Havel, who
speaks and writes about ‘living in truth’ in the context
of a totalitarian regime. Although Havel does not
mention Gandhi in his writings, their ideas show a
remarkable resemblance. Like Gandhi, Havel’s aim is to
‘live in truth’, and like Gandhi the basis for this truth
lies for Havel in experience, pluriformity, responsibility
and selfless action.
Havel finds a philosophical foundation for his ideas
in the work of Jan Patocka (Findlay, 2002). Patocka,
phenomenological
philosopher,
student
of
bot
Heidegger and Husserl, was one of Havel’s intellectual
mentors and together with Jiří Hájek, Havel and
Patocka became the spokespersons of the Czechoslovak
dissident movement around Charter 77.
This movement gained its name from the publicly
disseminated document, the Charter, in which a group
of dissidents demanded that the Czechoslovak
government implemented the human rights it claimed
to grant its citizens by signing the Helsinki Accords. 25 It
25
The Helsinki Declaration on Principles Guiding Relations between Participating
States, was the result of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe, held in
Finland in 1975. Most European countries, including most communist states as well as
Canada and the USA signed the declaration. The signing states promised to respect
each other’s sovereignty, guarantee their citizen’s human rights, fundamental freedoms
and self-determination and to work towards international cooperation and the peaceful
settlement of disputes. Because the declaration did not have the status of a treaty, it
was not legally binding. It did however become an important document for various
resistance groups, specifically in communist states, on the bases of which they claimed
the right to resist and speak out openly.
91
eventually became one things the Czechoslovak
dissident movement rallied around. The charter was
openly signed, eventually by hundreds of dissidents.
The regime’s response to the publication of what it
called an anti-state document was harsh. Most of the
early signatories were arrested and spent years in
prison, Jan Patocka died as a result of the police
interrogation (Findlay, 2002; Havel, 2011; Kohák, 1989;
Pirro, 2002).
Havel is very explicit about his philosophical debt to
Patocka (Pirro, 2002), stating that reading Patocka’s
work at an early age had been “instrumental in shaping
his life” (Havel, 2011, p. xv) and that Patocka’s
Socratic-style lectures and seminars had been an
important inspiration to the dissident movement in
communist Prague (Havel, 2011). One of the areas in
which Havel is inspired by Patocka is his understanding
of the resistance movement as a work of philosophy – in
– action (Popescu, 2012), resting on a commitment to
‘living in truth’.
To Patocka, philosophy is the labour of searching for
morality and meaning in experience (Popescu, 2012).
Practising philosophy leads one to uncover the truth
about reality, specifically the reality of human existence
(Martínková, 2006). This in turn creates an imperative
to take up the responsibility to act in accordance with
that truth (Popescu, 2012). Part of the practice of
philosophy is what Patocka denotes with the Platonic
term ‘care of the soul’, the activity of carefully
examining reality, through the practice of Socratic
questioning (Chvatik & Abrams, 2011; Findlay, 2002,
2009; Martínková, 2006) to gain clarity about “what the
human being really is” (Martínková, 2006, p. 64). Once
92
one engages with this practice of philosophy it is no
longer possible to simply accept any solid certainties
about reality:
Nothing of the earlier life of acceptance remains in
peace; all the pillars of the community, traditions, and
myths, are equally shaken, as are all the answers that
once preceded questions, the modest yet secure and
soothing meaning, though not lost, is transformed
(Patočka, Dodd, & Kohák, 1996, pp. 39–40).
To Patocka, care of the soul does not only mean
questioning the cosmological or natural reality of
human existence, but social reality as well.
it means questioning the forms and patterns that are
being transferred by society and which we have been
taking for granted. It means reconsidering various
alleged truths about (…) the whole moving human
being in the world. It means a turn to authenticity –
living from what I am and trying to find out for
myself, without neglecting or hiding some unpleasant
and annoying aspects (Martínková, 2006, p. 64)
Living in truth thus also means accepting the painful
and problematic aspects of life, including one’s finitude.
In what Patocka has called a ‘naïve’ life it is possible to
hide behind false certainties and so to overlook the
problematic aspects. In a conscious life this overlooking
is not possible one must face up to the truth of
existence. But, says Patocka, by becoming aware,
transformation happens. Human reality:
is something that changes when we become conscious
of it. A naive and a conscious situation are two
93
different situations. Our reality is always situational,
so that if it is reflected on, it is already different by
the fact of our having relected on it (Patocka as cited
in Findlay, 2002, p. 54).
Perhaps not surprisingly, Patocka’s ideas show some
resemblance with the work of Foucault who has on a
number of occasions26 lectured on the subject of
parrhesia, or truth-telling as a moral and political virtue
(Foucault, 1983, 2010, 2011). Both Foucault and
Patocka look to Greek, and speciically Platonic,
philosophy to ground their ideas on truth. At first sight,
Foucault’s explanation of parrhesia seems to
completely overlap with Patocka’s ideas when he says:
parrhesia is a verbal activity in which a speaker
expresses his personal relationship to truth, and risks
his life because he recognizes truth-telling as a duty
to improve or help other people (as well as himself).
(…) the speaker uses his freedom and chooses
frankness instead of persuasion, truth instead of
falsehood or silence, the risk of death instead of life
and security, criticism instead of flattery, and moral
duty instead of self-interest and moral apathy
(Foucault, 1983, p. 5).
However,
looking
more
closely
at
Foucault’s
explanation, some important differences become
apparent that are significant, especially in the context
of nonviolence. Most important is that parrhesia in
Foucault’s analysis is agonistic. Parrhesia has to be a
form of criticism towards he interlocutor, not towards
26
Foucault gave two series of lectures on parrhesia in Paris at the Collège de France in
January – March 1983 and in February- March 1984, and one at the University of
California, Berkeley in October – November 1983.
94
the self, which is why Foucault connects it to danger. It
is only parrhesia if the parrhesiast (the person who
applies parrhesia) in some way runs the risk of being in
danger, of losing something he values because of his
criticism (a friendship, a job, even his life). And in this
sense, Foucault states that parrheisia is always
directed from below, from someone who deems himself
able to speak the truth, to above, towards someone
who holds some form of power to do damage to the
parrhesiast (Foucault, 1983, 2010, 2011).
In Patocka’s analysis, however, the other does not
take such a central place. For Patocka, living in truth is
done foremost for its own sake, because it makes life
meaningful and truly human. Insights into the essence
of human life compel one to take up the responsibility
to live accordingly. Instead of criticism, living in truth is
rather a form of selfless service. That such a life in
truth often amounts to a form of criticism because it
leads one to criticize existing social structures, or
because it leads one to step outside mainstream
notions, and that such a life is often indeed
uncomfortable and dangerous, is essentially a
coincidence.
Furthermore, for Patocka, direct criticism of others
is problematic because the practice of care of the soul
consists of an ongoing search for the essence of human
reality, an ever questioning attitude (Chvatik & Abrams,
2011; Martínková, 2006; Pirro, 2002). In this sense,
Patocka’s ‘living in truth’ is closely related to Gandhi’s
views on satya, where Foucault’s parrhesia is this not
so much (see also: Steger, 2006). Especially the
necessity for criticism towards the other in parrhesia,
which, as we have seen in Gandhi’s work, goes against
95
the grain of ahimsa and anekantavada, severs this
connection. Gandhi replaces criticism with exemplarity,
whereby one’s insights to truth compel one to act in
accordance with them, but do not compel others.
Examples of others might lead to new insights, but
these can’t be enforced. Therefore, not all kinds of
truth-practices can, in the context of nonviolence, be
denoted with the term satya. To gain a better
understanding of this idea of exemplarity in a very
concrete and practical sense, we can look at the work
of Václav Havel.
HAVEL’S STORY-LOGIC
One of the important ways in which Havel follows
Patocka is in the belief that introspection and giving an
account of that introspection through action is a way of
“both doing and transcending experience” (Popescu,
2012, p. 10). Contrary to Patocka though, Havel is not
an academic philosopher who strives to create a
coherent and consistent theory (Pirro, 2002), he speaks
primarily to ordinary people (Brooks, 2005). Havel is,
like Gandhi, an activist who is foremost concerned with
social change and with the application of ideas and
their practical effectiveness. But his work is grounded
in the practice of philosophy, of introspection, as
Patocka describes it and to a certain extent he turns
Patocka’s abstract philosophy into a concrete way of
resisting (Pirro, 2002; Tucker, 2000).
Havel starts his long career by writing plays, his
philosophical and political essays follow later. Both his
essays and his plays contain detailed analyses of the
workings of the totalitarian system and the way it
96
should or could be resisted. Havel’s life and work take
shape
in
the
context
of
the
communist
(post-)totalitarian regime of Czechoslovakia, after the
second world war. It is this regime that creates,
according to Havel, a situation that forces all its
citizens to live a lie.
This lie consists of the monolithic truth the regime
enforces, denying people to live in accordance with
their own truths. Following Patocka, and resonating
Gandhi, Havel sees this as a form of violence and he
proposes ‘living in truth’ as a way out. The regime also
uses overt violence to enforce compliance and to
dispose of any possible threat. But what is much worse,
Havel says, is the constant dehumanization it inflicts on
every individual and on society by imposing a
“monologically premised world view on a plurally
constituted reality” (Pirro, 2002, p. 231).
Havel illustrates this in his essay The Power of the
Powerless (Havel, 2009). There he depicts a
greengrocer who puts the slogan 'Workers of the World
Unite!' in his shop window, between the carrots and
onions. This poster has been given to him by the
government. He puts the slogan in the window not
because he believes in it or because he thinks it has any
bearings on his vegetables. He hangs the slogan so he
is able to survive within the system, thus perpetuating
it. He is probably right, if he does not hang the slogan,
he would probably lose his job. But by complying he
signals to all other citizens that this is the proper way
to behave, thus perpetuating the system. People, states
Havel,
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need not accept the lie. It is enough for them to have
accepted their life with it and in it. For by this very
fact, individuals confirm the system, fulfil the system,
make the system, are the system (Havel, 2009, p. 15).
The regime, with its monolithic truth, needs people to
focus on their own survival within the system. All
pervasive as it is, the system relies on compliance. It
cannot tolerate any views outside the ideology; it has
no room for different lived experiences. It exist for
nothing else than its own perpetuation. Were the
greengrocer one day to stop behaving in the way that is
expected of him, and start acting in accordance with his
own world-views, experiences, truths, he would not
have simply committed an individual offence, but
something that has a much wider impact “by breaking
the rules of the game, he has disrupted the game as
such” (Havel, 2009, p. 21).
Havel, who writes not as a scholar but is most of all
an author and playwright, sees this in the frame of
what he calls 'the logic of stories' (Havel, 2009). Havel
uses the term stories in a very specific way. To him, to
monolithic truth of the regime is not a story, in fact it is
the opposite. Stories, in the way Havel thinks of them,
are not depictions of unified truths but present an
arena where different truths and logics meet and
interact. He states:
Every story begins with an event. This event understood as the incursion of one logic into the
world of another logic - initiates what every story
grows out of and draws nourishment from: situations,
relationships, conflict. The story has a logic of its own
as well, but it is the logic of a dialogue, an encounter,
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the interaction of different truths, attitudes, ideas,
(…) that is, of many autonomous, separate forces (…).
Obviously, the totalitarian system is in essence (and in
principle) directed against the story (Havel, 1988, p.
3).
The regime, says Havel aims for the destruction of the
story. And the destruction of the story, is the
destruction of the human instrument of knowledge and
self-relection. Here, Patocka’s insights ring through. If
the greengrocer were to question the forms and
patterns that are transferred by the regime, and
reconsider its alleged truths, he would transform his
life from a naïve to a conscious one. But Havel also
shows why this ideology and the option of naivety is
alluring:
To wandering humankind it offers an immediately
available home: all one has to do is accept it, and
suddenly everything becomes clear once more, life
takes on new meaning, and all mysteries, unanswered
questions, anxiety, and loneliness vanish (Havel as
cited in Brooks, 2005, p. 495).
The ideology presented by the regime offers readymade certainties to hold on to and provides an
opportunity to ignore all life’s problematic questions.
And so, living in truth is not for the faint of heart.
Like Gandhi, Havel points to accepting the
consequences of one’s actions, as part of living in truth
and taking responsibility. Havel’s work emphasizes the
ability of seemingly impotent people to break through
this all-pervasive system and transform society by
taking responsibility for their individuality, through
99
speaking about and acting upon their personal truths
based in lived experience (Carey, 1992). As soon as
people set out to discover their own truth and live in
accordance with it, they provide others with an option
to discover their own humanity in turn. To phrase it in
terms of nonviolence: by presenting their own truths
next to that of the totalitarian regime, they help to
create a fuller picture of satya.
The main aim of Havel’s writings is not to overthrow
the regime (although his work has ultimately
contributed a great deal to that result). The aim is to
create immediate changes in the daily lives of ordinary
people so that they might recover their humanity
(Schell, 2003, p. 202). To Havel this humanity is found
in the ability of people to explore their own stories and
those of others, to live in a world of multiplicity and
make choices based on their own understanding of
truth and the perspectives of others, of the interactions
of different logics that arise in confrontations.
CONSTRUCTIVITY
In this last section I want to focus on the wider
implications of everything that has been discussed
above and there are two things that I would like to
highlight. One is the connection between the
obstructive and the constructive side of nonviolence
and the second other, related thing is the interrelation
between the personal and the political sides of
nonviolence.
Both Gandhi and Havel stress that the personal and
the political, the individual and the public quest to live
in truth as intertwined. The personal search for one’s
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identity and truth are done in private, although such a
process is always influenced by the social context.
Acting upon one’s truth, especially in the form of
exemplarity as I have described before, is a public act
and has social consequences. This is what Havel aims
to do through his writings. Framed in narrative
terminology Havel’s work presents a counter-narrative
(Bamberg, 2004) against the monolithic narrative of the
regime, providing others with a more complex concept
of reality and thus the ability to live more truthful, both
socially and private. Havel’s example of the
greengrocer makes this clear. The greengrocer does
not just become a better, more sincere person himself
by refusing to hang a slogan in his shop that he does
not believe in, he also contributes to a fundamental
change in the system. So, the role of satya in
nonviolence is not just a moral imperative to ‘live in
truth’, but a call to action, to participate in the creation
of social realities that are more nonviolent.
It is important to note here that every nonviolent
effort therefore includes both an obstructive and a
constructive program. Living in truth as Havel
describes can be an act of obstruction, disrupting the
workings of a monolithic system but it can also be an
act of construction, part of the creation of new
structures. This requires of course an individual
commitment. However, creating a more nonviolent
society requires a more structural approach as well,
“transforming the thinking 'I' into an acting 'we’”
(Pirro, 2002, p. 233).
101
Constructive program27 comprises autonomous and
pro-active ways to create new institutions, resting on
the principles of nonviolence, and points to “building
the new society in the shell of the old” (Jahanbegloo,
2013, p. 88) and the “construction of complete
independence by truthful and nonviolent means” (M. K.
Gandhi, 1927b, p. 4) Although the obstructive side of
nonviolence is most discussed and perhaps most
obvious, for Gandhi the obstructive program was only
an aid to the constructive side (Sheehan, 2006)
However, constructing nonviolent social institutions is
a long and tedious process and it is not something that
will wield immediate, visible results and is often
neglected. Robert Burrowes observes:
if new types of structures are not being created to
replace the old, then even a successful nonviolent
defence will merely deliver control of the old and
inadequate state structure to a new elite (Burrowes,
1996, p. 216).
That this is the most difficult part, we can see reflected
also in the case of former Czechoslovakia. Samizdat
writings, the creation of ‘floating universities’ and other
such “embryonic structures independent of the state”
(Uhl, 2009, p. 122) did lay a foundation for the creation
of a democratic Czechoslovakia. Havel’s writings had a
big influence on the re-emerging of civil society and the
public life (Larsen, 1994). However, these embryonic
structures were not developed enough and Havel as
president of the new, democratic Czechoslovakia was
ultimately unable to prevent the rise of new sentiments
27
For an in-depth discussion on constructive program, and several examples see
chapter 2 in this volume.
102
and structures that curbed ‘living in truth’. The rise of
strong nationalism, even tied-up with anti-semitism
(Larsen, 1994) and the rushing in of neo-liberal
economics (ultimately leading to the split of Czech
Republic and Slovakia) are but two examples of how the
actual societal changes only paid lip service to Havel’s
(and Patocka’s) ideas. Joanne Sheehan describes this in
more general terms when she says that:
In cases where political revolutions have taken place
but the population is not organized to exercise selfdetermination, the creation of a new society has been
extremely difficult. In some cases, the usurpation of
power by a new dictatorship has been the result; in
others,
there has been political regime change
without
fundamental
social
or
economic
transformation (Sheehan, 2006, p. 5).
Yet, this does not in any way devalues the attempts of
Havel or the general conclusion that satya, and ‘living
in truth’ is a fundamental aspect of nonviolence. The
importance of the obstructive side has been discussed
above. The constructive side needs to gain far more
importance, even centre stage as Gandhi also realized
in the practice of nonviolence. But the two sides are
fundamentally connected and the same principles apply
for both. Robert Pirro summarizes:
What ought to result (…) is a community of people
better able to mediate personal interest and public
good in both their thinking and their actions. The
experience on which this political outcome of welladjusted citizenship hinges is a state of contemplative
contact with existence. And if not everyone chooses or
is able to achieve this state, then those who have
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must be counted on to convey its politically relevant
lessons in a (…) convincing manner (Pirro, 2002, p.
253).
SATYA IN NONVIOLENCE
Conflicting global narratives, based on conflicting
truth-claims can and often do lead to violence. Yet, as I
have tried to show in this article the notion of truth is
also central in nonviolence. However, in the context of
nonviolence truth is understood in a very specific way,
which I have denoted here with the Sanskrit term
satya, taken from the work of Mohandas Gandhi. The
role of satya in the work of Gandhi has often been
discussed, but mostly as a very context specific and
culturally defined notion. But as I have tried to point
out in this article this element of satya can also be
found in the work of other groups and individuals that
engage with nonviolence, although they might not use
that specific term and that it is in fact a central
element. These different practices in different context
expand and amending our understanding of the role of
satya in nonviolence. The work of Václav Havel
provides a clear example of the specific use of truth in
nonviolence, from a western context.
Although he does not use the term, Havel’s work
shows that satya demands that we see the world as an
arena where different truths meet and interact,
something that he denotes with ‘the logic of stories’.
Satya then, does not point to a monolithic conception of
truth. Gandhi has pointed out how satya is rooted in an
understanding of reality as plural (anekantavada). It is
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therefore impossible for one individual or group to
(claim to) represent the complete truth.
Following Patocka, Havel’s ‘living in truth’ shows
how the search for our own truth and living in
accordance with it is a way of preserving our own
humanity, but also a way of helping others find theirs.
Patocka, Havel and Gandhi all show that the
enforcement of one truth over another amounts to a
form of violence and dehumanization, in Havel’s term
the destruction of the story. But they also provide us
with ways to prevent and resist such violence, and aim
for re-humanization.
Satya represents the constant strive to come to a
fuller, more complex picture of truth, based in lived
experience. Conflicting visions of truth each represent
facets of (human) reality. This leads to the connection
with ahimsa, or acting with the intention not to harm.
The confrontation with other truth claims and
perspectives on good living provides us with the
opportunity to develop new and more complex
conceptions and visions of reality, of different
strategies of being in the world, of new forms of good
living, both personal and social. Havel’s work also
shows that this is not an easy road to travel and that
there are plenty of reasons not to embark on it, the
costs can be great. Patocka’s death as a result of
speaking out through the Charter 77 has on a number
of occasions been compared to the death of Socrates
(Chvatik & Abrams, 2011) and although Havel’s life
eventually took a different turn, his living in truth led
him to imprisonment, censorship and harassment.
Choosing for survival within the system is an
understandable choice. However, in the context of
105
nonviolence it is precisely through giving up this
understandable option that a new form of power is
gained. The work of both Gandhi and Havel shows us
something of how this mechanism works. I believe that
in a globalizing world in which people are in an ever
increasing manner confronted with conflicting global
narratives on good living, the insights of Gandhi and
Havel are crucial.
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CHAPTER 4
For the love of all
Ahimsa in Nonviolence and Radical Ecology
There is a difference here between proactive nonharming and
“doing nothing.”
Irina Aristarkhova (2012)
INTRODUCTION28
Our world is experiencing an ever growing ecological
crisis, which makes it necessary for humanity to
reshape the way it is dealing with the planet. Grave
challenges for the future of humanity and the earth as a
whole have emerged as a result of ecological and
economical conduct over the past few centuries.
According to some, the environmental crisis is
intertwined with other crises (financial, social,
political), which has led both scholars and activists to
call for a fundamental change in the global paradigm.
Where socio-political change is concerned, part of this
paradigm change has been attempted through
nonviolence. Pioneered as a method in the early 20th
century by Mohandas Gandhi for addressing injustice,
28
This chapter is submitted as: Goelst Meijer, S.L.E. van, For the Love of All: Ahimsa in
Nonviolence and Radical Ecology, to: Environmental Philosophy.
109
it has since been taken up by many more individuals
and organisations around the world. Nonviolence
practices and notions can also be found in certain
streams of ecology. One central element in the method
of nonviolence is ahimsa, ‘the absence of the intention
to do harm’. In this article I will explore both ahimsa
and radical ecology, to both explain the role and
significance of ahimsa in nonviolence and to see if and
how the two notions can clarify and supplement each
other.
Since the second half of the twentieth century, concern
for the state of the environment has grown
exponentially. Humanity is increasingly confronted with
the growing negative ecological effects of its actions.
Various forms of pollution have proved very hard to
clean up (Conway & Pretty, 2013; Metcalfe & Derwent,
2005; Meuser, 2010; Whitacre, 2007), and the
depletion of resources (Kröger, 2013), loss of
biodiversity (Dronamraju, 2008; Naeem, Bunker, &
Hector, 2009; O’Riordan & Stoll-Kleemann, 2002),
global warming, climate change and rising ocean levels
(Maslin, 2004; Metcalfe & Derwent, 2005; Scott-Cato &
Hillier, 2010; Shiva, 2008) can’t reasonably be
overlooked anymore. This has led to the emergence of
many global environmental organizations (Curran,
2006; Haigh, 2002; Merchant, 2005; Shiva, 1988; L.
Williams, Roberts, & McIntosh, 2011), the emergence
of green political parties throughout the world
(Bomberg, 1998; Goodin, 2013) and multilateral
initiatives to take action. But the views on how to
address these problems vary widely (Bomberg, 1998;
110
Goodin, 2013; Rogelj et al., 2010; Wulfhorst &
Haugestad, 2006; Zimmerman, 1997).
In the view of some, solving environmental
problems is seen as incompatible with solving human
social problems, of which there are also many (Tanner
& Horn-Phathanothai, 2014). Solving global problems
then becomes a choice between addressing social
issues (famine, war, diseases) or ecological problems.
However, in other views both kinds of problems are
seen as deeply interrelated and is it argued that real
solutions can only be created through a comprehensive
global paradigm shift in which humanity transforms the
way it deals with the planet and all its inhabitants
(Bronner, 2002; Merchant, 2005; Zimmerman, 1997).
Radical Ecology is one stream of thought that takes the
latter view.
The term ‘Radical Ecology’ might conjure up images
of activists chained to oil platforms, settling themselves
in tree tops to save the redwoods or committing nightly
break-ins into laboratories to free the guinea pigs.
Although some activists and organizations like Earth
First!, Greenpeace or the Dutch Milieudefensie
(Environmental Defence) certainly place themselves
within the scope of Radical Ecology, my focus here is
on radical ecological thinking and the philosophical
framework it provides (Zimmerman, 1997).
Radical Ecology is premised on the idea that a
fundamental transformation is needed in order to deal
with the current ecological crisis (Birkeland, 1993;
Merchant, 2005). This transformation concerns the
relationship between the human and the non-human
world, and in addition, humanity’s relationship with
itself (Birkeland, 1993). The term ‘radical’ points to the
111
desire for a paradigm shift that changes “the cultural
and institutional infrastructure - our frameworks of
thinking, relating, and acting” (Birkeland, 1993, p. 15).
It can be argued that in western thinking radical
ecological thought started in earnest with the advent of
Deep Ecology, though earlier traces can be found for
instance in the work of Thoreau (Thoreau, 2004;
Thoreau & Moldenhauer, 2004a, 2004b), Emerson
(Emerson, 2009) and Aldo Leopold (Knight & Riedel,
2002; Leopold, 1970; Lorbiecki, 2011). In addition to
Deep Ecology, radical ecological thinking is informed
by Ecofeminism (Birkeland, 1993; Gaard, 1993;
Ruether, 2005; Twine, 2001) and Social Ecology
(Bookchin, 1982; Pepper, 1993) and also by certain
religious views (Abdul-Matin, 2010; Ruether, 2005;
Setia, 2007). What unifies these streams of thought is a
sense that a radically different way of seeing, valuing
and relating to the natural environment is necessary in
order to turn the current ecological crisis around.
A very similar paradigm shift, that calls for a
transformation of humanity’s relationship with itself
and its place in the world is deemed necessary from the
perspective of nonviolence (Nagler, 2004). I use the
term nonviolence here not only to point to the absence
of violence in solving problems, but as a coherent set of
ideas and practices that provide a framework for
understanding (social) reality. This nonviolence
paradigm mostly focusses on socio-political change, but
its visions for alternative ways of relating, of organizing
and of being in the world have profound implications
for our ways of dealing with the environment
(Moolakkattu, 2010; Sasikala, 2012).
112
The roots of contemporary nonviolence lie, to an
important extent, in the work of Mohandas Gandhi, who
construed nonviolence, an ancient religious and
philosophical concept, into a new systematic and proactive way that made it applicable in modern society.
When we look at this paradigm, we can see five basic
elements emerge that together form the core of
nonviolence: satya or ‘truth-seeking’, ahimsa or ‘the
intention not to harm’, tapasya or ‘self-suffering’,
sarvodaya or ‘the welfare of all’ and swadeshi/swaraj or
‘authenticity and autonomy’. Each of these elements is
a complex and layered notion and each is equally
important in nonviolence. I will focus in this paper
specifically on ahimsa.
I will argue here that ahimsa consists of a conscious
change in the way we relate to ‘the other’ and deal with
'otherness'. Ahimsa denotes an attitude towards others
in which we make every effort not to harm their
chances of ‘being’, their dignity and chances for selfdevelopment. Whereas in nonviolence thinking this is
usually (though not solely) understood in a social way,
in Radical Ecology a very similar attitude is developed
in relation to the natural world. Radical Ecological
thinking can help to clarify the fundamental shift
towards 'the other' that ahimsa represents. On the
other hand, Radical Ecology is sometimes accused of
taking a misanthropic stance (Zimmerman, 1997). The
notion of ahimsa points to an attitude of non-harming
towards the other, but one that is fundamentally bound
up with an attitude of non-harming towards oneself,
because it departs from a relational view of reality.
Thus, ahimsa shows that such a misanthropic stance is
113
ultimately counterproductive in the search for a way of
living that allows room for all different ways of 'being'.
To explore this point further I will start with a general
overview of Radical Ecology in the next section, after
which I will explore the notion of ahimsa and,
ultimately, what they mean in relation to each other.
RADICAL ECOLOGY
As mentioned above, it can be argued that Radical
Ecology started, at least in a western context with Deep
Ecology, rooted in the environmental thinking of
Norwegian philosopher Arne Næss (2005c; 2008). In
addition, Ecofeminism and Social Ecology, which both
to a certain extent consist of a critique to Deep Ecology
have a major role in radical ecological thinking. In this
section I will explore these three thought streams more
in depth to see how they constitute Radical Ecology as
a movement that searches for radically different way of
seeing, valuing and relating to the natural environment.
Deep Ecology emerges in Arne Næss‘s work in
contrast to ‘shallow ecology’. The shallow approach to
ecology consist according to Næss of an attempt to
solve environmental problems through legal, technical
and institutional solutions that focus on short term
results and do not question the core values of modern
industrial society (Besthorn, 2012; Haigh, 2002; Lane,
2006; Merchant, 2005). Furthermore, in shallow
approaches, environmental degradation is seen as
problematic only as far as it has an impact on human
well-being (Besthorn, 2012). Instead, in Næss’s
thinking the focus is on the relationships between
humans and the ecological systems of which they are
114
part, and rests on the idea that each element in these
ecological systems has intrinsic value:
The well-being and flourishing of human and
nonhuman life on Earth have value in themselves (…).
These values are independent of the usefulness of the
nonhuman world for human purposes (Næss,
Rothenberg, & Næss, 1989, p. 29).
His idea of intrinsic value is rooted in the notion that all
beings are deeply and interdependently related, and
are all part of a greater whole. This interrelatedness is
understood here in a very specific way. Neil Evernden
explains:
To the western mind, interrelated implies a causal
connectedness. Things are interrelated if a change in
one affects the other. So to say that all things are
interrelated simply implies that if we wish to develop
our "resources," we must find some technological
means to defuse the interaction. (…) But what is
actually involved is a genuine intermingling of parts
of the ecosystem. There are no discrete entities
(Evernden, 1996, p. 16).
Because all beings, including humans, are seen as
integrated parts of a bigger whole, their worth cannot
be reduced to a function of another’s well-being. All
have intrinsic worth and the ‘right’ to flourish as they
are. Therefore, humans, like all other beings, should
live in a way that does not harm other’s chances for
well-being and self-development (Besthorn, 2012).
Næss dismisses the idea of a hierarchy in which
humans have the right to control or dominate nature
and use it as they see fit. Doing so would harm the
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integrity of other life forms and thus the ecological
system of which humans also are a part. This would
also amount to harm to humans themselves (Besthorn,
2012). Thus, Deep Ecology is concerned with creating
‘ecological justice’, a situation in which all life forms
are able to flourish in their own ways. For this to
happen, according to Næss, we need to make a shift
from an anthropocentric to an ecocentric view of the
world (Drengson & Devall, 2010). To Næss, this begins
with the shift from a concept of a personal self to that
of an ecological self (Haigh, 2002). As can be seen from
Evernden’s quote above, if one takes genuine
interrelatedness as a starting point, one has to give up,
at least to a certain extent the idea of separateness. To
Næss this implies giving up the idea of a separate self
and replacing it with an ecological concept of self
(Devall, 2001) in which:
human beings (…)will cease to think of themselves as
being discrete individuals and will see themselves as
parts of an all-encompassing ecological whole. Only
then, humans will recognize that the conservation of
the world is the conservation of themselves, and they
will participate fully in this conservation without
reservation or sense of painful duty. The task of "selfrealizing" is not a challenge to cultivate the moral
integrity to think of others but rather to conceive of
the world so broadly that we see ourselves as a part
of everything (Lane, 2006, p. 77).
The critique of both Ecofeminism and Social Ecology on
Deep Ecology thinking is, among other things, that
Deep Ecology in its search for an ecocentric worldview,
too easily takes humanity as a unified whole and that
116
the attitude of this whole is often cast as unanimously
anti-ecological. Both Social Ecology and Ecofeminism
see a lack of political awareness and critique in Deep
Ecology’s thinking.
Bothe Ecofeminism and Social
Ecology point to a deep seated link between the
rationale of domination and exploitation of the earth
and that of groups of humans by other groups. They
insist that the much needed transformation to curtail
the ecological crisis will not simply arrive by changing
our (ecological) consciousness, but that humanity needs
to work at restructuring its internal attitudes and
institutions.
Ecofeminism agrees with the Deep Ecology stance
that most ecological problems today stem from the
“atomistic, hierarchical and dualistic” (Zimmerman,
1997, p. 277) way of operating of modernity. However,
Ecofeminism does not see anthropocentrism as the root
cause of the problem, but rather androcentrism or
patriarchy. Ecofeminism sees patriarchy as a “logic of
domination” (Zimmerman, 1997, p. 2) that not only
views maleness and rationality as superior and opposed
to femininity and emotionality, but also values culture
over nature. This leads to the domination of women, but
also to the domination of non-human life. Because
nature is linked to the feminine, like women it has to be
tamed, ordered and brought under control. What needs
to happen to change the environmental crisis around
according to Ecofeminism is a dismantling of patriarchy
(Zimmerman, 1997).
Ecofeminists are also concerned that the ‘expanding
self’ concept of Deep Ecology glosses over the
importance of diversity and particularity (Gaard, 1993,
1997).
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Identification and holism neglect difference. The
whole, such as a rainforest or planet Earth itself,
contains not only magnificent trees, birds, and other
life forms, but trash, sewage, and clear-cut
landscapes. Both identity and difference are
necessary to a new ecological philosophy and ethics
(Merchant, 2005, p. 111).
Ecofeminists don’t see a need for an ever expanding
concept of self that identifies with everything, but for
highly specific identifications “such as love for a local
landscape” (Merchant, 2005, p. 111). Ecofeminists
worry that the idea of the ever expanding self brings
egotistical motivations in through the back door. When
humanity realizes that harming nature is harming the
self, “Rational Man will then presumably change His
ways” (Gaard, 1993, p. 29). Ecofeminism instead
stresses the importance of emotional and spiritual
engagement with the natural world, from which a
deeply felt concern and genuine care for ‘the other’
might arise. So, it is not so much concern for the self,
however expanded it might be, but genuine concern for
the other, in all its otherness that is key in
Ecofeminism.
The third important source for radical ecological
thinking is Social Ecology. Formulated by Murray
Bookchin (1982) as a socio-ecological critique to
modern society, Social Ecology views the ecological
crisis as the outcome of authoritarian social structures
in general, in which the inferior is forced to behave
according to the rules of the superior and in which it is
normal and acceptable that the superior uses the
inferior for its own good. Social Ecology disagrees with
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Ecofeminism that all such structures of domination are
connected with patriarchy. Instead,
environmental
destruction rests on the perceived split between
humans and nature, which itself is a result of distorted
social relations in which elites control and use the
masses for their own needs:
We must re-examine the cleavages that separated
humanity from nature, and the splits within the
human community that originally produced this
cleavage (Bookchin, 1982, p. 42).
Like Deep Ecology, Social Ecology sees human beings
as fundamentally natural beings whose well-being is
“inextricably bound-up with the well-being of the
natural world” (Zimmerman, 1997, p. 2). But, unlike
Deep Ecology, the transformation envisioned by Social
Ecologists is foremost social. Whereas Deep Ecology is
not really concerned with the relations between
humans and looks only towards the transformation of
the relations between humans and nature, the key for
Social Ecology lies in the creation of a counter-culture
that is socially and economically egalitarian and truly
democratic and participative. However, from the Deep
Ecology perspective comes the critique that more
egalitarian social relations do not necessarily lead to a
more egalitarian relationship with nature.
Radical Ecology as a whole has absorbed the
viewpoints and mutual critiques of these different
streams. It is thus not a unified stream of thought that
works from or towards a fixed ideology. Rather, it is a
way of thinking that searches within a certain
‘bandwidth’ how a radical transformation of human
'being in the world' can be brought about, that would
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allow humans and non-human beings both to flourish.
From the perspective of Radical Ecology such
flourishing can only happen if we focus on the
ecological, or interrelated nature of life, without losing
sight of the particular needs of all species. In that sense
it is a form of Deep Ecology, that is not satisfied with
finding (shallow) legal, technical and institutional
solutions to the ecological crisis. Radical Ecology
stresses the need for a change in consciousness, but
also for the need of a transformation of humanity’s
concrete ways of acting and understanding itself. In
this area, Radical Ecology runs the risk of becoming
misanthropic, when it points to an understanding of
humanity solely as the destructor of the planet for
instance. It is here that the concept of ahimsa as it is
understood in nonviolence thinking, might have
something to offer. In the following sections I will
explore this notion of ahimsa and the way it has
developed in nonviolence thinking and practice.
AHIMSA
The Sanskrit word ahimsa represents an ancient Hindu,
Jain and Buddhist concept. The word is a negation of
himsa, often translated with harm or violence, which is
derived from the root han; to strike, slay or kill
(Bondurant, 1965; Chapple, 1987). It is thought that the
word himsa is a desiderative, meaning the desire to
hurt29 (Bondurant, 1965; Phillips, 2013). Ahimsa then
29
Stephen Phillips explains: “The desiderative form is also used for will and intention,
thus “will to X,” and ahimsa intention not to harm, i.e., nonharmfulness. (…) the
etymological lesson is that the word connotes an attitude of personal policy.
Nonharmfulness is an attitude one adopts, or tries to adopt. The idea suggests a rule, or
set of rules, governing effort and action” (Phillips, 2013, p. 285).
120
means 'the absence of the desire to harm' (Chapple,
1987; Vajpeyi, 2012).
The notion of ahimsa can be found, although in
different forms, in all the Indian renouncer-traditions 30
(Chapple, 1998), where it is understood as a holistic
concept that rests on the identification of oneself with
all others (Kumar, 2004; Shastri & Shastri, 1998). The
Vedic (Hindu) tradition provides a theoretical basis for
this view, stating that everything in the universe is
“interconnected, interrelated and interdependent”
(Shastri & Shastri, 1998, p. 70). The yogic tradition
takes ahimsa as one of the central virtues and
renounces the slaughter of animals for sacrificial
reasons or food. Over time, the understanding of
ahimsa evolved to also include non-harm through
speech and thought (Bondurant, 1965; Shastri &
Shastri, 1998).
Although in the classical texts of Buddhism the term
ahimsa is mentioned only sporadically (Chinchore,
2005) refraining from harm is one of the religion’s
central precepts. In most Buddhist traditions ahimsa is
connected to the development of the ‘right’ mental
states31 and the attempt to become free of those mental
states that lead to violent behaviour; any form of
enmity. Buddhism stresses the importance of
intentionality in ahimsa.32 Causing harm is morally
wrong if caused intentionally, but unintentional harm is
30
Buddhism, Jainism and Yoga.
31
One of the core concepts in Buddhism is 'the Eightfold Path', consisting of the
cultivation of right view, right intention, right speech, right action right livelihood, right
effort, right mindfulness and right concentration.
32
See the comments by Stephen Phillips above, note 29.
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often not seen as himsa (Chinchore, 2005; Keown,
2005).
For the Jains ahimsa is the central focus of religion
and life (Chapple, 1993), in a radical and
comprehensive way. Ahimsa is extended to all living
beings, but where in the Buddhist tradition the focus is
on the intention and on mental states, Jainism looks at
action. They also extend the meaning of ahimsa to
include the prevention and reparation of harm (Koller,
2004). Jainism recognizes that complete ahimsa is
impossible in life, but Jain monks attempt to practice
ahimsa in all actions. For lay people, the emphasis is on
“minimizing harm and choosing positive actions that
have benign effects” (Rankin, 2013, p. 154). In all these
traditions ahimsa points to an attitude of refraining
from hurting others, including non-human life forms
and to a world-view in which all life is interrelated.
GANDHI’S AHIMSA
In the west, the term ahimsa is perhaps most widely
known in relation to Gandhi and his nonviolent social
change. For Gandhi ahimsa was indeed one of the
fundamental aspects of his practice. Though Gandhi
himself was a devout Hindu, both Buddhism and
especially Jainism have influenced his commitment to
ahimsa (Ansbro, 2000; Bilgrami, 2011a). Influenced
also by his Christian schooling, his studies in London
and his life in South-Africa, Gandhi’s political thinking
is highly original. It blends aspects of diverse world
religions
with
political
theory
and ideas
of
contemporary secular thinkers like Thoreau, Tolstoy,
and Ruskin (M. K. Gandhi, 1996). He expands the
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meaning of traditional Indian concepts and uses them
in new socio-political way. In the case of ahimsa he
converts this ancient moral principle into a principle of
action that can be used as a force in the world to create
social change. To the ancient principle of non-harm,
Gandhi adds the dimension of active love or good will
(Ansbro, 2000).
In its negative form, it means not injuring any living
being, whether by body or mind. I may not therefore
hurt the person of any wrong-doer, or bear any ill will
to him and so cause him mental suffering. (...) In its
positive form, ahimsa means the largest love, the
greatest charity. If I am a follower of ahimsa, I must
love my enemy. I must apply the same rule to the
wrong-doer who is my enemy or a stranger to me, as I
would to my wrong-doing father or son
(M. K.
Gandhi, 1999b, p. 252).
He is adamant that ahimsa should be applied in the
same way to everyone, not just to those who love us.
Gandhi understands ahimsa also to mean the rejection
of ‘inner violence’ or ‘violence of the spirit:
Ahimsa is not the crude thing it has been made to
appear. Not to hurt any living thing is no doubt a part
of ahimsa. But it is its least expression. The principle
of ahimsa is not to hurt by evil thought, by undue
haste, by lying, by hatred, by wishing ill of anybody. It
is also violated by holding on to what the world needs
(M. K. Gandhi, 1945, p. 6).
Although Gandhi is convinced that we should not
harbour ill will or hatred against anyone, people should
not cease to hate practices and systems of oppression
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or exclusion. He recognized that his practice of ahimsa
could not allow for a toleration of structural violence, 33
or violence and injustice in general.
Just like in the ancient religious traditions that
generated ahimsa, Gandhi’s views rest on an
understanding of all life as interrelated. In this view the
well-being or suffering of one affects all others (Joseph,
2012). Therefore, ahimsa can never be construed as
passivity. Resisting injustice should be done as an act of
ahimsa towards oneself and to the perpetrators. Their
unjust behaviour harms their own humanity just as
much as it harms others. Tolerating injustice or
violence actually amounts to two forms of himsa to both
victim and perpetrator, who would be allowed to
continue harming themselves by harming others.
Ahimsa thus required actively opposing systems of
injustice and: “the pitting of one's whole soul against
the will of the tyrant” (Ansbro, 2000, p. 5).
To Gandhi, ahimsa is closely related to another of
the central aspects of nonviolence: that of satya34, or
truth- seeking. In Gandhi’s life and work ahimsa and
satya are the core concepts. To him, nonviolence is
essentially a quest to understand the deepest truth
about reality, and to find ways to live in accordance
with that truth. He is convinced that there was an
Ultimate Truth, but is equally convinced that people
could only understand it in a relative sense. People can
only come to know something about the truth of reality
through their experience. But because people have very
different experiences in life, their views on truth will
33
See for an explanation of this term both Galtung (1996) and chapter 2 in this
volume.
34
See for an in-depth explanation of satya chapter 3 in this volume.
124
also differ vastly. These truths then do not cancel each
other out, because all the experiences are equally real.
They each represent different facets of reality. This
leads Gandhi to have an “epistemological respect for
the views of others” (Koller, 2004, p. 88). Confronted
with views of reality that are completely opposed to our
own, we have no choice but to take them seriously, as
representations of reality. This does not mean we have
to part with our own views, after all these also
represent Ultimate Reality. It does mean that we have
to look for ways of action that can respect both truths
and that we remain open to the possibility that our
confrontation with the view of the other, which is an
experience, might lead us to change our mind (or the
other might change his mind when confronted with our
truth).35 This adds another dimension to the idea that
we are all interrelated:
This understanding encompasses the insight that
other beings are not “other” to themselves; that they
are themselves just as much as we are ourselves. It is
this insight that enables us to see the “other” on its
own terms, from its own side, rather than as merely
the “other”, that is opposed to us. And this ability to
see the other person as not merely the “other”, but as
identical to our own self (…) operationalizes ahimsa
(Koller, 2004, pp. 86–7).
As Koller explains, ahimsa implies meeting the other on
his/her own terms, without stepping over your own
terms. The operationalization of ahimsa lies in the
realisation that others are not identical to us in the
35
For a more in-depth exploration of satya and its role in nonviolence see chapter 3 in
this volume.
125
sense that they are the same, but in the sense that they
live in the world on their own terms and have their own
way of being, like we do. Ahimsa points to the active
attempt to create a situation in which each can fully
live.
AHIMSA AS AN ELEMENT OF NONVIOLENCE AFTER GANDHI
Although the word ahimsa has a specific background in
Indian philosophy and religion, Gandhi expanded and
slightly altered the meaning of this ancient term and
used it as an active element in the practice of
nonviolence. That this element has always been deemed
vital by those who engage with nonviolence even
though they might not approach it from a Hindu,
Buddhist or Jain perspective, can be seen for instance
from the work of Abdul Ghaffar Khan36 (Bondurant,
1965; Easwaran, 1999; R. C. Johansen, 1997) and
Martin Luther King (M. L. King, 2010a, 2010b).
Khan was a Muslim activist in what is today the
border region of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Starting out
by building schools and setting up projects to improve
hygienic conditions in his native area, he moved on to
political activism. Kahn founded an organization known
as the Khudai Khidmatgars (Servants of God). Shaped
in the image of an army the Khidmatgars struggled
nonviolently to improve social conditions in the region
and eventually for independence from Britain (R. C.
Johansen, 1997). To the Pashtun people, the word
ahimsa had little to no meaning. Invoking the Islamic
36
For a more in-depth discussion of Ghaffar khan and his work see chaper 2 in this
volume.
126
concept of sabr (patience, endurance) and referring to
a Qur’an verse stating that one should
respond to evil with what is good, and your enemy
will become like a close and affectionate friend
(Qur’an verse 41:34 as quoted in: Halverson, 2012).
For Khan the emphasis was addressing the harm that
was inherent in the social conditions in his native area,
both those inherent in Pashtun culture and those
inflicted by the British. The Kudhai Khidmatgars
worked both towards social uplift for all and towards a
diminishing of the violent tribal practices such as blood
feuds.
A few decades later, Martin Luther King translated
Gandhi’s ideas to the American (Christian) context and
equated ahimsa with agape. Agape refers to one of
three forms of love that are discerned in the Greek
philosophical tradition and is translated by King as a
form of active good-will or benevolence towards all
living beings (Atack, 2012). King uses the notion of
active love in a very specific sense:
In speaking of love at this point, we are not referring
to some sentimental or affectionate emotion. It would
be nonsense to urge men to love their oppressors in
an affectionate sense. Love in this connection means
understanding, redemptive goodwill (M. L. King,
2010a, p. 92).
King’s redemptive love is a disinterested kind of love in
the sense that it is love for others for their sake, not for
the benefits that the relation brings to oneself.
Therefore, one should not distinguish between friends
127
or enemies but aim at preserving, restoring or creating
a sense of community (M. L. King, 2010a), something
that King often referred to as the creation of a 'beloved
community' (M. L. King, 2010b). King resonates
Gandhi’s notion that all life is interrelated. In one
instance King explains his idea by citing from a letter
by novelist James Baldwin:
The really terrible thing, old buddy, is that you must
accept them. And I mean that very seriously. You
must accept them and accept them with love. For
these innocent people have no other hope. They are,
in effect, still trapped in a history which they do not
understand; and until they understand it, they cannot
be released from it. They have had to believe for many
years, and for innumerable reasons, that black men
are inferior to white men. Many of them, indeed,
know better, but, as you will discover, people find it
very difficult to act on what they know. To act is to be
committed, and to be committed is to be in danger. In
this case, the danger, in the minds of most white
Americans, is the loss of their identity... But these
men are your brothers—your lost, younger brothers.
And if the word integration means anything, this is
what it means: that we, with love, shall force our
brothers to see themselves as they are, to cease
fleeing from reality and begin to change it (Baldwin,
1963, pp. 23–4).
From this description it becomes understandable
how ahimsa works as an element of transformation in a
process of nonviolence. Ahimsa refers to the removal of
the intention to harm. Inadvertently causing harm
would not constitute himsa, yet, the intention itself
would. Gandhi, King, Khan and others, have shown that
128
ahimsa means changing one’s attitude towards the
other and see him not as a separate 'other' but as part
of a shared constellation of relations. In such a shared
constellation of relations committing ‘harm’ towards
one of the elements (another person) becomes harm to
oneself because it damages the shared network of
which the self is part.
RELATING TO THE OTHER
Thus, ahimsa is that element in a process of
nonviolence which calls us to make a qualitative shift in
our relationship to others. Ahimsa points to an internal
process of re-framing in which one attempts to discover
and transform any feelings of enmity and actions that
might cause harm, and to cultivate goodwill and
disinterested love towards all others, regardless of the
attitude the other takes towards you. The active
nonviolence of Gandhi, Khan and King is mainly
directed at social change and in the context of their
work this ‘other‘ points to other humans, adversaries.
The term ahimsa is seldom mentioned, however, when
we look at the paradigm shift towards the natural world
proposed by Radical Ecology something very similar is
at stake; amounting to “saying “yes” to all living
beings” (Aristarkhova, 2012, p. 637).
Radical Ecology strives towards a world that is
sustainable and both ecologically and socially just, by
critically examining the current attitude that underlies
our socio-economic, political and cultural institutions,
and by working towards transformation. It is thus not
only concerned with environmental conservation, but
also with the creation of alternative forms of economic,
129
political and social organization. Although the different
streams in radical ecological thinking each lay a
different emphasis and sometimes conflict over specific
viewpoints, Radical Ecology as a whole calls for a
fundamental transformation of our attitude towards the
other, but here ‘other’ emphatically includes nonhuman species, nature and the cosmos in general.
The shift in attitude that is proposed by Radical
Ecology is not in the first place related to dealing with
an antagonistic other (although nature is sometimes
cast that way in western thinking), but with an 'other'
that is a different life form. However, in both cases the
other has a different outlook on life, and different needs
for flourishing that might conflict with our own.
The overlap in thinking between Radical Ecology and
nonviolence is not entirely surprising. Years before
Arne Næss formally started his work on Deep Ecology,
he made an extensive study of Gandhi’s work (Næss,
2005b). In his later writings on Deep Ecology Næss
often mentioned his indebtedness to Gandhi in his
thinking on ecology (Næss, 2005a; Næss et al., 2008; T.
Weber, 1999) and has even stated that his work on
Deep Ecology is really an outgrowth of his thinking on
Gandhi and Spinoza and his experiences in the
mountains of Norway (Devall & Sessions, 1985; T.
Weber, 1999). Gandhi’s influence is especially visible in
Næss’s ideas on self-development (T. Weber, 1999;
Zimmerman, 1997). It led Næss to conclude that true
self-development could only happen in relation to the
self-development of all other beings, and that (social)
action to create circumstances that foster development
for all, including all oher species, is an integral part of
this process (Zimmerman, 1997).
130
Ecofeminists have criticized Naess’ ideas on an
expanding self, because it would lead one to overlook
profound differences between individual people, groups
or species, and stepping over the “otherness” of the
other.
As Koller has explained, seeing the other as
connected to oneself does not point to understanding
the other as the same, thereby overlooking its
otherness. Rather, it points to the realisation that the
other is “not 'other' to itself” (Koller, 2004, p. 86) and
is identical to us in that sense. It points to the attempt
to see the other, as much as possible, “on its own
terms” (idem.). Given the influence of Næss’ thinking
on Radical Ecology it is not surprising that Gandhian
elements can be found there. What is rather surprising
is that Gandhi or his ideas are so seldom mentioned
either in Deep Ecology or in Radical Ecology in general
(T. Weber, 1999).
As I have explained above, the notion of ahimsa in
its ancient form, especially in the context of Jainism
was extended towards all living beings (Aristarkhova,
2012; Chapple, 1998; Kumar, 2004; Long, 2009).
Although Gandhi himself certainly extended ahimsa to
include all living beings (M. K. Gandhi, 1945), he
referred to ahimsa mostly in the context of his social
struggle. Gandhi adapted ahimsa from a philosophical
notion that he found to be too “negative and passive”
(Parekh, 2001, p. 46) and widened it with ideas from
other religions and secular thinkers that were “activist
and socially oriented” (idem.). Blended they “yielded
the novel idea of an active and positive but detached
and non-emotive love” (idem.). When nonviolence was
used in other contexts, for instance by Khan and King,
131
the element of ahimsa (although not always mentioned
by that name) was infused with new notions, such as
the Muslim concept of sabr and the Christian notion of
agape.
I think it is necessary to revive ahimsa’s ancient roots
and broaden its understanding once more in the
direction of other living beings and nature as a whole.
Radical Ecology shows us, through its internal debates
that social and ecological issues are so intertwined that
in our globalized twenty-first century world they can’t
be taken as separate issues any more (Merchant, 2005).
The concept of ahimsa, as developed through
nonviolent practices and thinking can give clues how to
approach these crises in a way that does justice to the
interrelatedness of the problems.
Radical ecological movements are often accused of,
and sometimes indeed take, a misanthropic stance. The
notion of ahimsa points out that such a stance is
ultimately unproductive. Ahimsa points to the
realisation that the lives of humans and the lives of nonhuman species are intertwined and that harm to one
ultimately amounts to harm of all. This means that
ecological problems can’t be reasonably solved in a way
that leaves no space for humans to flourish. On the
other hand, concrete changes in the way humanity
views itself and acts on the planet is necessary for the
natural world to flourish likewise. Attitudes in which
humanity as a whole, or specific human groups are, for
whatever reason, perceived as superior and therefore
entitled to more resources or chances for selfdevelopment are likewise unhelpful. Such attitudes of
132
superiority and entitlement exist in similar ways
towards different social groups and to nature.
Ahimsa denotes an attitude towards others in which
we make every effort not to harm their chances of
‘being’, their dignity and chances for self-development,
by consciously changing the way we relate to them, and
by actively cultivating an attitude that helps others to
flourish. The cultivation of such an attitude is no simple
task as Gandhi, Khan, King and Radical Ecological
thinkers have equally shown. But from the perspective
of nonviolence it is the only way to come to the
fundamental changes that radical ecology is calling for.
133
CHAPTER 5
The Nonviolent Sacrifice
The Role Of Tapasya In Nonviolence
non-violence, combined with the acceptance of suffering, can
move a conflict beyond mutually exclusive antagonism to a shared
sense of responsibility for resolving the conflict.
Ian Atack (2012)
INTRODUCTION 37
According to René Girard, one of the leading thinkers on
the role of sacrifice in human society, violence lies at “the
foundation of the world” as we know it (Girard, 1987). His
theory holds that violence is part of the dynamic of human
communities because human beings are mimetic creatures.
Mimesis, according to Girard, is the unconscious imitation
of desires in which everyone is engaged, which leads
people to desire the things their important others desire.
37
This chapter article appears as: Goelst Meijer, S.L.E. van: The Nonviolent Sacrifice: The
Role of Tapasya in Nonviolence. in: Korte, A.M., Poorthuis, M & Duyndam, J.: Sacrifice
Revisited: Community, Ritual, Identiy, Leiden: Brill, (forthcoming).
135
Because people desire the same things as the people
around them, this eventually leads to intense rivalry. This
predicament would create complete social chaos, a
situation of all against all were it not for a periodic release
of tension in the form of violence against a scapegoat.
Blaming a scapegoat for the tension and the violence in the
group unites its members against a common enemy. A
sacrifice, then, is a ritualized form of ousting a scapegoat.
In his narrative on the Kapsiki people in Sacrifice
Revisited, Walter van Beek (forthcoming) shows that
sacrifice can enhance the sense of community and
belonging. Tensions and problems seem to be reduced
through such a ritual. According to Girard, this can be
explained because the sacrifice is a ritualized reminder of
how previous inter-group violence was reduced by ousting
the scapegoat. Furthermore, it allows for an accepted
amount of violence to take place, in a confined setting,
which in turn helps to prevent large amounts of violence
from erupting within the community. Thus, sacrifice,
community, and violence (and temporary peace) are
necessarily connected.
That this connection between sacrifice and violence is
only one possible view on sacrifice Kathryn McClymond
shows in her book Beyond Sacred Violence (2008). She
advances that although violence often is a part of sacrifice,
the two are not interchangeable. Because sacrifice, as Van
Beek suggests as well, plays such an important role in
bringing communities together, she urges us to consider a
broader understanding of sacrifice. Violence against a
scapegoat is only one (and as McClymond states: limited)
way in which sacrifice can serve to create unity.
136
It is noteworthy, in my view, that nonviolence thinkers,
practitioners, and movements often use the image of
sacrifice. Moreover, in the context of nonviolence thinking
sacrifice is also connected to the strengthening of
communities. However, it is not connected to the use of
violence. The question I will try to answer in this article is:
how can we understand the concept and role of sacrifice in
a process of nonviolence?
In the following paragraphs, I will first briefly introduce
tapasya, the term used here to denote the element of
sacrifice and the acceptance of suffering present in all
nonviolent practices. I will then explore Girard’s ideas on
mimesis and sacrifice. I will go on to explore an alternative
reading of the Epistle to the Hebrews, the Bible text that,
according to Girard, is chiefly responsible for the creation
of a sacrificial understanding of the Gospels. However,
Eugene Webb suggests that the Epistle to the Hebrews
points to a different understanding of sacrifice, tied to
nonviolence. By looking at Webb’s interpretation of
Hebrews, and comparing his notion of sacrifice to the
writings of major nonviolent actors in modern history, we
might gain some insight into the role of sacrifice in
nonviolence thinking. I will show that tapasya points to a
non-sacrificial (in Girardian terms) understanding of
sacrifice. In the last sections, I will explain this difference
and draw on the popular uprising against the dictatorship
in the Philippines in the 1980s as a practical example.
NONVIOLENCE
The roots of nonviolence as a way toward (social) change
lie in the work of Mohandas Gandhi, who was the first to
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use mass organized nonviolence to significantly alter the
socio-political reality of his age. His understanding of
nonviolence included not merely the absence of violence
but also what was to take its place. He understood
nonviolence as a concrete tool that could be used to create
change, a tool for which he used the term satyagraha or
truth-force. Gandhi construed nonviolence in a new,
systematic and pro-active way that made it applicable to
modern society. His work directly inspired others like
Martin Luther King, Lanza del Vasto and Dom Helder
Camara (see for instance: Alland & Alland, 2001; Ansbro,
2000; Bruns, 2006; Câmara, 1971; Lanza del Vasto, 1974;
G. Williams, 2008) and still functions as a jumping-off point
for many others, individuals or organizations that want to
work with nonviolence. They take up Ghandi’s concepts and
translate them to their own circumstances, expanding and
elaborating on different elements. When looking closely at
these theories and practices of nonviolence from around
the world, five core elements emerge that together create a
dynamic framework. These five elements, in their Sanskrit
terms originating from Gandhi’s work, are: satya, or 'truthseeking', ahimsa or ‘the absence of the intention to do
harm’,
sarvodaya
meaning
‘the
welfare
of
all’,
swadeshi/swaraj which points to autonomy, and tapasya or
self-suffering. These are ancient religious
terms,
reconceptualised by Gandhi in a way that made them
suitable for socio-political action. As said above, their
meaning has expanded even more through the work of
subsequent nonviolence scholars and practitioners. 38 Each
38
Not all nonviolence movements or practitioners use these terms, but the principles that
they represent can be found in all works on nonviolence.
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of these elements is a complex and layered notion and in
this article I cannot do justice to all of them. My focus here
is on the element of tapasya.
TAPASYA
Out of the five core elements of nonviolence tapasya is
perhaps the most difficult to come to terms with, certainly
in a Western context. Its most common translation in the
context of nonviolence: self-suffering, brings to mind the
idea that nonviolence involves accepting the violence or
wrong-doings of the other without responding to them. This
interpretation
is
linked
to
another
common
misinterpretation, that of nonviolence as passivity and
acquiescence in the face of conflict or injustice (Roedel,
2007). In this paragraph, I will try to show how both
tapasya and nonviolence in general point to something
completely different.
The Sanskrit term tapasya literally means ‘produced by
heat’, and goes back to the root tapas meaning heat,
suffering, or austerity. Kathryn McClymond writes that the
term is already found in the Rig Veda, one of the oldest
Hindu texts, and its meaning evolved from pointing to the
heat of the ritual sacrificial fire to being associated with the
‘inner heat’ of asceticism.
… devotional practices that are understood to generate a
kind of spiritual heat are, in effect, replicating one of the
activities performed in traditional sacrifice: heating, which
is, of course, simultaneously destructive and constructive.
In traditional sacrifice a distinct material substance is
heated on an outdoor altar. In devotional practices an
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internalized, subtle substance is heated by devotional
practices within the body (McClymond, 2008, pp. 156–7).
Thus, tapasya refers to ‘that which is produced by the inner
heat of austerity or suffering’. Over the centuries the term
has also come to mean ‘the undertaking of personal
discipline’ and is also translated as self-control, (spiritual)
effort, tolerance, or transformation (see for instance: Adele,
2009).
TAPASYA IN NONVIOLENCE
In Gandhi’s work, tapasya is one of the key aspects of a
nonviolent process. Nonviolence is to Gandhi a spiritual
quest as much as a socio-political one. In fact, he does not
view those two realms as truly separate. The quest for
truth, which he sees as the essence of his work, is a quest
for God or Ultimate Reality. His goal is to attain
enlightenment (M. K. Gandhi, 1927a). But, Gandhi realizes,
such an internal quest for truth is meaningless without
living up to it in the public realm.
Because self-purification is an essential element in the
attainment of enlightenment in the Hindu tradition, Gandhi
takes a vow of asceticism which forms the base of his
tapasya.39 However, in the course of his lifetime, his
understanding of this vow changes. From the vow of
celibacy and abstinence of an earnest spiritual seeker,
Gandhi comes to regard it as a mode of conduct that has
important socio-political implications. Likewise, in a more
general sense, his understanding of tapasya changes from a
39
This vow is called Brahmacharya in the Hindu tradition and is a vow to lead a life of
religious seeking and includes restrictions on diet, conduct and possessions.
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purely personal process of purification to an essential
element in a nonviolent process of social change.
In his writings, Gandhi uses the term tapasya in
different ways, even though it always contains elements of
its original meaning of purification through internal
suffering, and of sacrifice and transformation. He subverts
the ‘reasonable’ idea of eliminating suffering for oneself,
and throughout his writings provides different motivations
for doing so. One of the motivations is that it can easily
become an excuse for using violence. If eliminating
suffering from one’s life is a reasonable motivation for
doing things, it can become a reason to inflict suffering on
others. Tapasya is thus a way of directing attention away
from the self.
Furthermore, Gandhi uses tapasya to refer to the
process of overcoming fear, specifically the fear of suffering
and death, and to the cultivation of self-discipline (Groves,
2000). He wants practitioners of nonviolence to give up the
habit to ‘fight or flight’, and to commit themselves to
nonviolent behaviour under all circumstances, while staying
put in the situation and addressing the conflict or injustice
at hand. Part of that process is the firm internal struggle to
overcome ill will against the opponent, and even taking this
one step further by cultivating love for the adversary. This
is a moral standpoint, but it also has a very practical
aspect. The willingness to suffer instead of retaliating when
being confronted with violence or injustice is the only
attitude that breaks a cycle of violence. Justice can only be
won, so states Gandhi, by a love that does not impose
suffering on the (unjust) other.
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Related to this is the understanding of tapasya as a
means to ‘penetrate the heart’ of those to whom we are
appealing. Gandhi uses tapasya as a tool to make the
suffering visible by undergoing it openly. Gandhi wants to
demonstrate that the injustices people face are afflicted on
them by other humans. By making this visible, it becomes
clear that because it is perpetrated by other people it can
also be corrected, the injustice can be stopped (Tercheck,
2011). But for that to happen, the injustice first has to be
acknowledged. He argues that appealing to reason alone
sometimes is not enough to get the message across. Visible
“suffering”, he argues, “opened the eyes of understanding”
(Steger, 2006, p. 344).
As Gandhi sees it, tapasya is a complex and dynamic
element. Separately, suffering and love are not enough.
Simply loving your opponent without an attempt at change
is impotent. Suffering by itself has very little value, and if
accompanied by hatred and anger would even be
counterproductive (Parekh, 2001). Combined they instigate
action and change. One has to actively engage in tapasya
and be willing to suffer for one’s goal, refusing to comply
with untruth and accepting the consequences (Brown &
Parel, 2011). Thus, tapasya is a medium of change and
transformation of oneself, the opponent, and the situation
at large.
The concepts of sacrifice and suffering are also central to
the work of Martin Luther King, who was deeply inspired
by Gandhi, but in a much more psychological way (Groves,
2000). King describes his nonviolent philosophy in his
article An Experiment in Love (M. L. King, 1990). Like
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Gandhi, he stresses the importance of accepting suffering
and giving up all inclinations to self-preservation as the
essence of nonviolence:
that [which] characterizes nonviolent resistance is a
willingness to accept suffering without retaliation, to
accept blows from the opponent without striking back.
“Rivers of blood may have to flow before we gain our
freedom, but it must be our blood”, Gandhi said to his
countrymen. The nonviolent resister is willing to accept
violence if necessary, but never to inflict it. He does not
seek to doge jail. If going to jail is necessary, he enters it
as “a bridegroom enters the bride’s chamber (M. L. King,
1990, p. 18)
According to King, nonviolent resistance led people to selfrespect, courage, and inner strength (Groves, 2000), which
he called the emergence of a new kind of power. King
wrote:
Humanity is waiting for something other than blind
imitation of the past. If we want truly to advance a step
further (…) we must begin to turn mankind away from the
long and desolate night of violence. May it not be that the
new man the world needs is a nonviolent man? (…) This
not only will make us new men, but will give us a new kind
of power (…). It will be power infused by love and justice
(M. L. King, 2001, p. 332)
How can we understand this ‘new kind of power’ as a social
and psychological reality? Here I turn to Kenneth
Boulding’s analysis of power, in which he distinguishes
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integrative power as the kind of power both Gandhi and
King talk about.
INTEGRATIVE POWER
Power is sometimes related to the ability to make others do
what we want (M. Weber, 1991). In a more general sense,
peace scholar Kenneth Boulding states, it is the ability to
“get things done” (Boulding, 1990, p. 15). According to
Boulding, power can be exercised in three different ways,
depending on the consequences. These three ways he calls
the ‘faces’ of power. First he discerns threat power, which
can be paraphrased as: “You do something I want or I’ll do
something you don’t want” (Boulding, 1999, p. 10). It
underlies all forms of punishment and retaliation.
The second form of power is exchange power, the
power to produce and trade. This is paraphrased as: “Give
me something I want and I’ll give you something you want”
(Nagler, 2004, p. 29). Together the first and the second
form are often called ‘the carrot and the stick’. The third
kind of power is called integrative power. It is the power to
create relationships and bring people together. Integrative
power can be summarized as: “I’m going to do what I
believe is right, something authentic, and we will end up
closer” (Nagler, 2004, p. 29). For Boulding (1990, 1999),
from the three ‘faces’ or ways of wielding power,
integrative power is the most important. Integrative power
is the power of human relationships. It is connected to
everything that establishes a relationship either on a
personal level or in the form of institutions or
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organizations. Love, respect, legitimacy and consent are all
expressions of integrative power.
In everyday life most forms of exercising power consist
of a combination of the three faces. But there is a
difference in emphasis in various areas. Exchange power is
most prominently present in anything connected to the
economy, but also to anything in which incentives (the
carrot) are used to get things done. Yet also legitimacy and
trust, both forms of integrative power, play a huge role in
the stock exchange, and without regulations and the
penalties to back them up production and trade cannot
proceed. Threat power is present not only in the military
but wherever some form of penalty is used to make things
happen (the stick). The military symbolizes threat power,
but cannot exist without exchange power in the form of
money, nor without integrative power in the form of morale
and legitimacy. Underlying all forms of power is integrative
power. Systems and institutions can only function if people
cooperate. Even in the most rigid dictatorship, as soon as
enough people stop cooperating, the system collapses.
Since all human beings exist within relationships,
integrative power is open to all, even to those who are
traditionally assumed to have no power. “It is this definition
of power, as a process that occurs in relationships, that
gives us the possibility of empowerment” (Page & Czuba,
1999). Both Gandhi and King asserted that the kind of
power used in processes of nonviolence can emerge by
being authentic and truthful and by going through the inner
process of shifting our sense of personhood away from our
self and giving up our inclination to enhance or preserve
our own interests.
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For a better understanding of these ideas, it may be
worthwhile to look more in-depth at the views of René
Girard, who connects sacrifice to violence. Furthermore, we
may examine the work of Eugene Webb, who provides an
alternative reading of some of Girard’s sources, one that
points more towards nonviolence.
RENÉ GIRARD: MIMETIC DESIRE
René Girard is one of the leading thinkers on the role of
violence and sacrifice in human society. His theory of
mimetic desire describes how and why humanity is locked
in an on-going cycle of violence, even though we find
(temporary) ways to limit violence to a minimum. Girard
claims that violence lies at the “foundation of the world” as
we know it (Girard, 1987). At the heart of Girard’s theory is
the concept of mimetic desire. Simply put, it is the
unconscious tendency present in all human beings to
imitate the desires of significant others. In other words,
people desire things because important people around
them (models) desire them. This leads to conflict because
the model becomes a rival with whom we have to compete,
or so it seems, for the object of our desire. Because mimesis
happens in every person, these conflicts can become so allpervasive in communities that they destroy the societal
structure if they are not restrained in time.
Girard states that our deepest desire is actually not for
objects – our deepest desire is to be (J. G. Williams, 1996,
p. 227). Ultimately, we are not really interested in the
actual object that our models desire, but in their ‘being’, or
as Oughourlian (2010) puts it, in their autonomy, or sense
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of self. Powerful others make us feel they know ‘how to be’,
and that the things they desire support them in their
‘being’. People desire what important others desire,
because they feel those things will in turn support them in
their own ‘being’ (Roedel, 2010; J. G. Williams, 1996). They
do not realize that the desires of the model are mimetic as
well, tied to the desires of yet another model.
Early in their evolution, human beings discovered that if
rising tensions and violence are diverted and laid upon a
victim, they are relieved in the rest of the group. This
process of victimization is called scapegoating. A person or
a group, appearing to be vulnerable for some reason, gets
blamed for the tensions and violence that exists in the
community (J. G. Williams, 1996). Then, through the same
process of mimesis, the blame and hatred against this
scapegoat become shared feelings within the community.
Former rivals become new allies by ‘ganging up’ against
the common enemy. The scapegoat is driven out of the
community, defeated or marginalized. His or her well-being
is sacrificed to preserve the well-being of the group. This
leads to a temporary relief from the violence and animosity,
but since nothing has really changed (people remain
mimetic beings) the process is bound to repeat itself in the
future. Imperative in this process is that the people who as
a group sacrifice the scapegoat are ignorant of what they
are doing. For the mechanism to work it is necessary that
the group is convinced that the victim is rightfully blamed.
This, however, makes anyone a potential scapegoat at some
point. Because ousting the scapegoat is only a temporary
solution, somewhere in the future a new victim will (have
to) be found to once more release the tension.
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Societies have found different ways of dealing with this
threat, for instance through laws, but also through ritual
sacrifice. Such a ritual, in which not a real victim but a
substitute is sacrificed, serves, according to Girard, as a
reminder of the actual moment of scapegoating. It reminds
the audience of both the initial violence and the peace that
came after the scapegoat was sacrificed. Furthermore, such
a ritual serves as a temporary outlet for the violence in the
group, in a contained setting. But these systems of
restraint, in turn, help to keep the scapegoat mechanism
hidden and thus contribute to the necessary continuation of
sacrifice. Whenever the system suffers from stress, or
collapses, real violence may once more flare up, leading to
real victims. What might work to end this cycle of violence,
in Girard’s vision, is the public discovery and
understanding of the scapegoat mechanism. Understanding
the mechanism and its consequences would provide
humanity with a rational choice to act differently.
JESUS’ SACRIFICE
According to Girard, the Jewish prophetic tradition was
evolving towards the discovery and disclosure of the
scapegoat mechanism (Girard, 1987). The life of Jesus of
Nazareth, in his view, is the culmination of that process.
Girard states that the death of Jesus on the cross was
meant to lay bare the mimetic process by providing a public
example, and not as a sacrifice to appease God (as
interpreted in modern Christianity) (Girard, 1986). Jesus’
innocence is so very obvious that when he is picked as a
scapegoat, “violence reveals its own game” (Girard, 1987,
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p. 205). However, as Girard states, the revelation was
“more than its recipients could bear” (Webb, 2005, p. 1)
and, in time, the Gospels were being interpreted in a
sacrificial way. This helped to create a Christian tradition
that revolved mostly around the sacrifice of Jesus who died
on the cross to wash away the sins of the world. And so,
instead of uncovering the scapegoat mechanism for society
at large and instigating a paradigm shift, the narrative of
Jesus, interpreted in a sacrificial way, actually helps to keep
the process hidden. Girard sees the Epistle to the Hebrews
as the main biblical text in which this misinterpretation was
made. Because of this misinterpretation, even in our society
today processes of scapegoating and sacrifice and the
violence that accompanies them can be found everywhere.
This sacrificial violence is tied, according to Girard, to a
form of self-preservation in which the violence is laid on the
other, a scapegoat, to get rid of it in our own society.
Interestingly enough, Eugene Webb, emeritus professor
of International Studies and Comparative Religion at the
University
of
Washington,
has
a
very
different
interpretation of the Epistle to the Hebrews, and claims
Girard has made an oversight (Webb, 2005). In fact, in
Webb’s interpretation, the sacrifice in Hebrews points to
nonviolence.
THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS
The Epistle to the Hebrews, a Bible text consisting of an
anonymous, early Christian homily, depicts a community of
believers in the middle of a hostile environment (Attridge,
2012). The text’s aim is to affirm and inspire the faith of the
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community in difficult times and motivate the people to
remain steadfast (Attridge, 2012; Richardson, 2012). It is
the only book in the New Testament in which sacrificial
imagery takes such a central place, and the text is often
interpreted in a literal way, as pointing to the necessity of
sacrificial offerings (Gelardini, 2005). Eugene Webb
suggests that Girard correctly states that the traditional
reading of Hebrews is sacrificial. But, according to Webb,
Girard himself makes the same mistake. Instead, the text
should be read metaphorically. Not the author of the
Epistle to the Hebrews misunderstood the story of Jesus but
the medieval interpreters of the text. Webb states that in
fact the author of Hebrews urged his intended audience to
live a nonviolent life, and that the metaphors would have
been well understood at the time (Webb, 2005).40
To show the metaphoric meaning of the sacrifice in
Hebrews, Webb starts by re-interpreting some key
elements of the text. The first is the image of Jesus as the
son of God. In the Jewish community of the first century,
Webb claims, referring to someone as the son of God did
not necessarily mean that this person was seen as divine. It
referred to either a person who was living in accordance
with the laws of God or a calling upon people to do so. In
that latter sense it was also used for the people of Israel as
a whole. It was a call upon the Israelites to live
righteously.41
40
In recent years René Girard has himself come to a similar insight and mentions in an
interview that his conclusions on the Epistle to the Hebrews, based on the sacrificial language
alone, has been a misinterpretation. See: (Adams & Girard, 1993). See also: Hardin (1992).
41
For a comprehensive outline of the Semitic use of the term “son of God” and its use in the
Hebrew Bible and among the early Christians, see S. Herbert Bess (1965).
150
To say in the first century Jewish milieu that Jesus was
‘son of God’ was to say that he truly fulfilled the calling of
Israel to live in sonship to God (Webb, 2005, p. 4).
Webb’s claim is substantiated by other scholars, who note
that in the Semitic context of the Hebrew Bible ‘son’ is
often used to denote close affiliation, not just literal
sonship.
In Semitic usage “sonship” is a conception somewhat
loosely employed to denote moral rather than physical or
metaphysical relationship. Thus “sons of Belial” (Jg 19:22
etc.) are wicked men, not descendants of Belial; and in the
NT the “children of the bride chamber” are wedding
guests. So a “son of God” is a man, or even a people, who
reflect the character of God (Hastings, 2005, p. 143).
Also, the term ‘son of God’ seems to indicate metaphorically
leaders and rulers, ‘the first among their people’, who were
thought to be exemplary and who based their authority in
God (Aherne, 1912). Likewise, Webb states, we should
regard the image of sacrifice in Hebrews in a metaphorical
way. Hebrews does not portray Jesus as fulfilling a sacrifice
of atonement, to appease God or to mitigate the mimetic
violence. Jesus is not portrayed as fighting for his own
survival but as choosing to lay bare the scapegoat
mechanism by undergoing it, so that others might see it for
what it is. The sacrifice consists in the surrender of his own
well-being. But this is not to say that he sacrificed himself
in the traditional (Girardian) sense.
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Raymund Schwager, a theologian and Girardian
scholar, supports this view (Schwager, 1999). 42 He states
that the author of Hebrews uses the notion of sacrifice
metaphorically and is thus able, “through a massive
hermeneutical reinterpretation” (Schwager, 1999, p. 183),
to give it a completely new meaning. Jesus answers the call
to live in sonship by not fighting his opponents and by
suffering the crucifixion willingly. He sees his opponents as
people who do not really know what they are doing. In
Girardian terms, they act under the influence of the
mimetic process and, like most people, are not aware of
that. Jesus is aware of it and thus he is able to see them as
victims along with him.
He himself [Jesus] was a victim insofar as he was killed
and they were victims in killing, insofar as they were
under the spell of an external power. For him, then, killing
was an act done both to him and to them, even if in very
differing ways (Schwager, 1999, p. 187).
Thus, Jesus stands no longer in opposition to his
antagonists. He sides with all the victims of the mimetic
mechanism and undergoes the scapegoat mechanism
together with them. From that angle, the division between
perpetrator and victim of violence ceases to exist. Through
this action Jesus transforms the passivity that is inherent in
the mimetic process. “Suffering which is affirmed becomes
a new form of activity” (Schwager, 1999, p. 187). This inner
transformation is what the author of the Epistle to the
42
Based on Schwagers theory, Poong-In Lee (2011) comes to the conclusion that not only is a
non-sacrificial readig of Hebrews possible, in fact it is one of the Bible texts that to a large
extent supports Girard's theories.
152
Hebrews metaphorically calls a sacrifice. Schwager points
out that this is not a simple act of self-destruction. Jesus
complies with the actions of his antagonists, but not with
their motives. “Jesus' judges and his executioners wanted
to punish a criminal; he himself on the other hand wanted
to give himself (…) for the many” (Schwager, 1999, p. 187).
TAPASYA AS NON-SACRIFICIAL SACRIFICE
In their writings on nonviolence, both Gandhi and King
speak of the role of sacrifice and the dedication of one’s life
to the well-being of all, rather than adhering to selfpreservation at the expense of the other, something Girard
himself calls “unanimity minus one” (1979, p. 259). The
sacrifice that tapasya refers to is the creation of a situation
in which the humanity of all people can rise to the surface.
Schwager’s example of Jesus’ identification with his
opponents points in this direction (Schwager, 1999). By
regarding them not as opponents, but as fellow victims,
their humanity is stressed and rivalry is diminished. Roedel
adds to this:
Within mimetic theory, this requirement of absolute
nonviolence, renouncing vengeance and even self-defence,
derives from an understanding of violence as arising from
rivalries that the parties involved are unable to recognize.
It denies the commonly held distinction between selfdefence and the violence that one initiates, because it
holds that both are the product of rivalries in which all
parties are responsible (Roedel, 2010, p. 2).
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Moreover, Gandhi and King assert that such a shift in
personhood, away from the self, leads to the emergence of
a different kind of power or force, which can be harnessed
to achieve tremendous results. Both Gandhi and King
understand nonviolence as essentially the wielding of this
force, which Boulding calls integrative power (Boulding,
1990). To Gandhi and King, nonviolence is concerned with
both the (internal) process of bringing out this power and
the (external) process of implementing it.
From this concept of integrative power we can come to
an understanding of why sacrificing the self is not the same
as self-sacrifice. It is a transformative process that rests on
a profound understanding of the self as relational, in which
hurting another person ultimately means hurting the self,
and vice versa, since self and other are intertwined. The
intentional aspect of tapasya then becomes clear. It
indicates a sacrifice of the 'separated' self with the
intention to benefit 'the whole' (sarvodaya)43. Sacrificing
the self is a transformative process that leads to and rests
on integrative power and includes a conception of the self
as relational. The shift of focus is not towards self-negation,
but rather towards relationship. A sacrifice of the self,
made with the intention to benefit 'the whole' with an aim
to intensify the relation between the whole and the self is
completely different from self-sacrifice.
Girard posits that it is possible to interpret the Gospels
in either a sacrificial or non-sacrificial way. In a similar
vein, I propose there can be a non-sacrificial way of looking
at the concept of sacrifice itself. According to Eugene
43
For a more in-depth discussion of the term sarvodaya and its use and role in nonviolence
see chapter 1 in this book.
154
Webb, the Epistle to the Hebrews should be read as a
metaphor. The sacrifice that is mentioned in the text does
not point to a literal sacrifice in the Girardian sense, but to
the sacrifice of ‘self’, which happens through a process of
(self-)transformation. I suggest that tapasya in nonviolence,
which invokes sacrificial imagery, refers to precisely such a
non-sacrificial sacrifice.
Although neither Gandhi nor King use any of the
Girardian terms, the role of tapasya or self-suffering they
describe is to expose the working of violence in specific
situations so that a transformation becomes possible
(Roedel, 2008). For this, as Gandhi has pointed out, reason
alone is not enough. For the mechanism to become
consciously understood it has to be made clearly visible. To
become free from the imprisonment of the mimetic
mechanism, one needs to develop insight into its structure
and to be willing to give up all the ‘normal’ comforts that it
brings, among which are a sense of power, a sense of
‘fitting in’, and a sense of being protected from intense
vulnerability. Giving up ‘normalcy’ can certainly feel like a
sacrifice, and this is what tapasya refers to (Hudson, 2001).
Girard himself remains sceptical about the practical
realities of a nonviolent society, but he states that it could
only emerge when people continuously refuse to act in
accordance with it: “Only the unconditional and, if
necessary, unilateral renunciation of violence can put an
end to [mimetic rivalry]” (Girard, 1987, p. 197). He
continues to state that “it means the complete and
definitive elimination of every form of vengeance and every
form of reprisal in relations between men (Girard, 1987, p.
197). I maintain that the practice of nonviolence is an
155
attempt at the first and that tapaysa points to the second
statement.
How then can we translate the above into concrete
notions for the study and practice of nonviolence today? To
answer that question it might be helpful to look at a
practical example of a nonviolent movement in which this
dynamics has played a central role.
ALAY DANGAL
One of the problems nonviolence thinkers and practitioners
are facing is the absence of a positive term for nonviolence
as a practice and an attitude. There is no term in use today
that captures the wielding of integrative power as well as
the attitude of serving the whole rather than preserving the
self. This means that in many instances practitioners of
nonviolence have come up with their own terms to describe
their efforts. During the people’s uprising in the Philippines
against the regime of president Marcos in the 1980s, the
term of choice was alay dangal, Tagalog for 'to offer
dignity'.44 The nonviolent struggle of the Philippine people,
aided by the International Fellowship of Reconciliation
(IFOR) and grassroots organizations tied to the Catholic
Church, came to rest on the practice of offering dignity. 45
According to the movement’s organizers, the Catholic
teachings held that human dignity was given to each and
every individual and was unalterable and inextinguishable.
44
Tagalog is one of the main languages spoken in the Philippines.
45
CORD-Mindanao, AKKAPKA and NAMFRE among others. For more information see Zunes
(1999).
156
In the contemporary situation of dictatorship and
oppression, however, this dignity of the people was
ignored. Inspired by the work of both Gandhi and King,
which rests on a relational worldview in which one’s dignity
is tied up with that of all others, the organizers felt this also
meant the oppressors ignored and diminished their own
dignity. In other words, the Philippine community was in
need of the restoration of its dignity. Restoring dignity
through offering it to every person would become the way
to resist.
The movement itself was one form of offering dignity,
embodying the refusal to live under undignified
circumstances any longer. The practice of alay dangal
involved the willingness of the protesters to suffer the
retaliations of the regime, forgoing their own safety, fear
and anger. It also meant that the resisters kept addressing
the soldiers, who were sent to contain and beat down the
protests, as individuals instead of representatives of the
military. In other words, they addressed them not as
opponents but as fellow humans. The resisters offered
gestures of friendship, such as the sharing of food, and
refused to resort to any form of humiliation, violence or
degradation. Eventually, this led many soldiers to desert
and join the uprising, unwilling as they were to answer
dignity with violence and humiliation. Desertions
subsequently escalated to such an extent that the Marcos
regime fled the country (see for instance: Sasaran, 2006).
This dynamic of dignity and humiliation forms the core
of the work of Evelin Lindner, the Founding President of
Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies.46 In her view,
46
See also: www.humiliationstudies.org
157
humiliation is the essence of violence, dignity being its
opposite. Perhaps surprisingly, Lindner ties dignity to
humility and maintains that they are very closely related
and, moreover, that humility and dignity provide healing for
humiliation and violence.
While humiliation is painful, a closely related word,
namely humility, points at healing, particularly in a
normative context that is defined by human rights.
Inclusive and shared humility, embedded in relationships
of mutual respectful connection, can heal wounds of
humiliation and prevent future mayhem. Arrogant
dominators need to be met with respect and not subjected
to humiliation—they need to be humbled into adopting
shared humility and mutual recognition of equal dignity.
Victims who feel humiliated, do not undo this humiliation
by brutal arrogation of superiority over their perceived
humiliators, but by inviting everybody into mutuality, into
connecting in shared, wise humility (Lindner, 2006, p.
173).
Humility is not the same as self-humiliation. Rather, it
points to a secure sense of self, self-dignity, and so being
able to draw the focus away from the self. By consciously
‘offering’ dignity to everyone around (even to those whom
we might feel do not deserve it), we cut through the
vertical conceptions of humanity that are so intertwined
with mechanisms of violence and scapegoating. We
sacrifice our self-preserving tendencies, our habitual
patterns tied to our fears of being too vulnerable and
powerless. As Girard showed, these tendencies run deep
and the risk of being vulnerable is real, but letting go of
them leads to a transformation in the direction of a truer
158
sense of autonomy, another way of ‘being’ and a different
kind of power. This dynamic of sacrificing the self for the
shared dignity of all people, bringing integrative power to
the surface, is captured in alay dangal, that is to say,
creating an example of nonviolence as a life stance in which
tapasya, an attitude of humility, sacrificing the desire-self
and offering dignity (and the study of how to do this) are
central.
159
CHAPTER 6
Interdependent Independence
Swadeshi/Swaraj as Relational Autonomy in
Nonviolence
For those who wish to change themselves and thereby
change the world, neither thought nor action poses a
problem.
M. Paranjape (2009)
INTRODUCTION47
With this article I aim to show the specific function
swadeshi/swaraj has in a process of nonviolence. It is
often assumed that the pursuance for swaraj
(autonomy) through swadeshi (self-sufficiency) was
specific for the Indian struggle for independence, led
by Gandhi (see for instance: Gonsalves, 2010, 2012). In
this article I will try to show why I disagree with this
assumption. I will argue that swadeshi and swaraj
combined, are a necessary element in nonviolence, no
47
This chapter is submitted as: Goelst Meijer, S.L.E. van, Interdependent
Independence: Swadeshi/Swaraj as Relational Autonomy in Nonviolence, to: Peace and
Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology.
161
matter which context it is practised in. Together, I will
argue, the terms point to a specific form of autonomy.
In this article I will try to show what this specific form
of autonomy implies in nonviolence. In addition, I aim
to show in this article that, although nonviolence as a
tool for change is often seen as something that is useful
only at the socio-political level, it can also be used for
creating change at the interpersonal level and that
although swadeshi/swaraj takes on a different shape
there, the essential process is still the same. To do so I
will examine Nonviolent Resistance (NVR), a method
for working with troubled adolescents developed by
Israeli psychologist Haim Omer (2004, 2011). In his
method, the element of swadeshi/swaraj plays a
significant role.
It is important to note that I use the term nonviolence
here not to point to the absence of violence, but rather
to a substantial method for creating change.
The development of nonviolence from a religious
and philosophical notion towards a method for change
started in the 19th century with the works of Thoreau,
Tolstoy, Marshall and Day and others (Barak, 2003),
culminating in the work of Mohandas Gandhi, who for
the first time used mass organized nonviolence to
create large-scale social and political change, first in
South Africa and later in India. Gandhi based himself
on religious teachings from various traditions as well as
on the work of (near) contemporary thinkers. However,
for Gandhi nonviolence never lost its religious and
philosophical roots. According to him, outer change
rested on inner change and nonviolence was both a way
of life as well as a tool towards humanization.
162
Gandhi’s work has been an inspiration and jumpingoff point for many nonviolence movements in the world.
From the Civil Rights movement in the U.S. led by
Martin Luther King, to the Philippine uprising against
General Marcos, the Polish Solidaridad movement led
by Lech Walenza and many more (see for instance:
Ansbro, 2000; Zunes et al., 1999).
Each
nonviolent
movement,
individual
or
organization took up Gandhi’s concepts directly or
indirectly,
and translated them to their own
circumstances, expanding and elaborating different
elements. This has led to the emergence of a nonviolent
paradigm that constitutes a coherent set of values,
assumptions practices and ideas about reality. Thus,
nonviolence is not just a method for social struggle, but
also an integrated way of 'being in the world'.
Analysing this nonviolence paradigm, I find five
central elements: Satya (truth seeking), ahimsa (the
absence of the intention to harm), tapasya (selfsuffering), sarvodaya (the welfare of all) and
swadeshi/swaraj (relational autonomy). These five
elements, in their Sanskrit terms originating from
Gandhi’s work, together form a dynamic framework,
that forms the core of contemporary nonviolence. This
does not mean that each individual or group working
with nonviolence necessarily uses all these terms, but it
does mean that the elements themselves are always
present. Each of these elements is a complex and
layered notion and in this article I cannot do justice to
all of them. My focus here is on the element of
swadeshi/swaraj.
In the following sections I will first clarify the
concepts swadeshi and swaraj independently, by
163
tracing the history and different uses of the terms.
Then, I will explain why I take them together as one of
the fundamental elements in nonviolence by comparing
them to a similar notion that in recent years has
developed in a western context: relational autonomy. I
will then explore Haim Omer’s method of Nonviolent
Resistance to further investigate the specific function of
swadeshi/swaraj in contemporary nonviolence.
SWADESHI
In its most literal sense swadeshi means 'from one’s
own' (swa-) 'country' (-deshi), though the most
commonly used direct translation is self-reliance (Cox,
2007). The term is also often used in an economic
sense, for instance in relation to Gandhian economics 48
(Joseph & Mahodaya, 2011), where it points to the use
and consumption of products of local origin (Dasgupta,
1996) but also to the “value in indigenous-ness” (Cox,
2007, p. 112).
In the Indian struggle for independence the term
was first used in the Bengal49 anti-partition movement
(L. Trivedi, 2007). This movement started as a reaction
to the decision of the British colonial regime to split the
region, which was the most important centre of Indian
nationalism at that moment, in two parts. Although
officially the measure was said to be for administrative
48
A school of economic thought based on the principles for socio-economic justice as
expounded by Gandhi, connected with the ideas of some of the thinkers that Gandhi
drew inspiration from, like Henri David Thoreau and John Ruskin. In the European
context Ernst Friederich Schumacher (1993) is one of the most well-known thinkers in
this field.
49
Bengal is an Indian state, of which Calcutta is the capital. However, ethnically and
culturally the region Bengal also includes what is today Bangladesh.
164
reasons, it was clear to many that it was an attempt to
curb Bengal nationalism (Sartori, 2003). The Swadeshi
Movement (1903-1908) that erupted in protest
consisted of a boycott of British goods. Because
Britain’s colonisation of India was mostly economically
motivated it made sense to rebel economically.
Historically, cotton fabrics were one of India’s most
famous products and played a big part in its
colonization (L. Trivedi, 2007). In the early eighteenth
century Britain exported large amounts of Indian
fabrics to Europe and other parts of Asia. The profits of
this
trade
helped
to
finance
the
British
industrialization, which eventually made it more
profitable to export only raw cotton from India and
weave the fabrics in British factories. In the early
nineteenth century the flow of products was reversed
and Lancashire had become the world’s textile centre
instead of India (Gonsalves, 2010). British-made textiles
from Indian cotton, machine-woven and much cheaper,
were exported to India, effectively destroying the
indigenous Indian textile market. Boycotting British
fabrics, therefore, became one of the focal points of the
first Swadeshi Movement.
The second Swadeshi Movement, led by Gandhi (1920
onwards), draws inspiration from the previous
movement, but has a much broader aim. As is his
custom, Gandhi expands on the original meaning of the
term and infuses it with spiritual, psychological, ethical
and practical meanings that make it applicable in
various circumstances (Cox, 2007).
Although it becomes much more than just an
economic concept (Bondurant, 1965; Dasgupta, 1996;
165
Pandharipande, 2011; L. Trivedi, 2007), the economic
element remains important in Gandhi’s use of
swadeshi. His Swadeshi Movement is part of the
struggle for independence (swaraj, which I will discuss
below),
and
Gandhi
is
convinced
that
true
independence can’t come about, if India is not able to
care for itself economically. But, in Gandhi’s opinion
economic self-sufficiency is not to be understood only at
the national level. In fact, for Gandhi, self-sufficiency on
the national level is not possible without self-sufficiency
at the community and individual level. Therefore,
Gandhi emphasizes the constructive side of swadeshi,
much more than the first Swadeshi Movement. In the
second movement cotton also takes a central place, but
Gandhi focuses more on the production and use of
Khadi, hand spun and hand woven cotton, than only on
the boycott of British-made cloth.
The obstructive side, the various forms of protest
against and non-cooperation with violence and
injustice, is clearly present in a boycott. But Gandhi is
adamant that each nonviolent effort should have a
constructive element as well, which is perhaps even
more important than the obstructive (A. Gandhi, 1997;
M. K. Gandhi, 1927b; Nagler, 2004). Gandhi is sure that
it is not enough to get rid of problematic practices or
institutions, without creating something better to take
its place. And so, he comes up with a Constructive
program that should lead to the “…construction of
complete independence by truthful and nonviolent
means” (M. K. Gandhi, 1927b, p. 4). Gandhi’s
constructive program consists of 18 specific points that
should contribute to the uplift of the country (M. K.
166
Gandhi, 1927b) and the spinning of khadi takes centre
stage.
The destruction of India’s village industry has led to
mass unemployment and mass poverty. In Gandhi’s
view, in a country with such a large (rural) population
this problem can’t be solved though industrialization.
The revival of the village industries is the only thing
that will bring real economic independence. Because
cotton spinning had been practised by Indian villagers
for ages it is not hard to revive the skill. It requires
minimal investment, most of the tools can be easily
hand-made and spinning can be taken up or left at any
moment, making it well suited as a part-time activity
(Dasgupta, 1996). The urban population should buy and
wear the khadi, instead of foreign or machine made
cloth, as a form of service to the rural population and
as a way to show “solidarity and equality” (Mattaini,
2013, p. 139). It is the moral duty of those with money,
to spend it in such a way that the their fellow
countrymen will benefit from it.
In a broader sense, the call to buy and use khadi
also expresses the need for swadeshi (self-sufficiency)
on the community level. This is connected to Gandhi’s
ideas about the roots of Indian colonization. Gandhi is
convinced that he Indian population has played an
important role in its own predicament:
The English have not taken India; we have given it to
them. They are not in India because of their strength,
but because we keep them (...). They came to our
country originally for purposes of trade (…). They had
not the slightest intention at the time of establishing a
kingdom. Who assisted the company’s officers? Who
was tempted at the sight of their silver? Who bought
167
their goods? History testifies that we did all this (M.
K. Gandhi, 1998, p. 35).
And therefore, it is up to the Indian people themselves
to reclaim home rule, by instigating their own social
and cultural reform.
Thus, home spinning became not only an economic
activity but also a psychological and political process
(Bondurant, 1965). In a psychological sense, making
khadi, (and swadeshi in general), helped to reinstate
Indian products and indian-ness, as something to be
proud of instead of something that was inferior.
Furthermore, it demonstrated in a tangible way that
India could very well provide for itself. By focussing on
producing and using khadi, Indians would liberate both
themselves as well as each other from the notion that
they were dependent on the British for their well-being,
and so Gandhi declared that: “The very thing that was a
cause of our slavery [cotton] will open the door to our
freedom” (M. K. Gandhi, 1999d, p. 383).
By extension, swadeshi on the community level also
meant neighbourliness (Dasgupta, 1996; Joseph, 2012;
Ramakrishnan, 2013; T. Weber, 2007). In this
explanation swadeshi “restricts us to the use and
service of our immediate surroundings to the exclusion
of the more remote” (M. K. Gandhi, 1999b, p. 159). The
word ‘service’ is especially important here. Swadeshi
points not only to the use of local resources or
neighbourliness for economic and ethical reasons, but
as a form of service directed at strengthening the
community. Self-sufficiency is thus not to be
understood as an individualistic focus on satisfying
one’s own needs, but as taking responsibility for life in
one's immediate surroundings. By ensuring that one’s
168
immediate surroundings are functioning well a
fundament is created upon which the well-fare of all
(sarvodaya, another of the five central elements of
nonviolence) can rest.
But swadeshi does not imply an uncritical
acceptance of anything local. Rather, it means the
critical examination of the context, the local customs,
products, and attitudes, and amend them where they
are found unsatisfactory. In Gandhi’s words:
This is the use of my immediate religious surrounding.
If I find it defective, I should serve it by purging it of
its defects” (M. K. Gandhi, 1999b, p. 159).
In a broader sense, swadeshi points to “the
understanding of contexts from within and from below”
(Gonsalves, 2010, p. 124) and to understanding “the
value and importance of place-specific knowledge”
(Cox, 2007, p. 109).
With swadeshi, and with khadi in particular, Gandhi
strives to “empower, unite and liberate his people”
(Gonsalves, 2010, p. XIX). Just as a self-sufficient
country rests on self-sufficient communities, so does
community swadeshi rest on swadeshi on the individual
level. For instance, in the context of the nonviolent
movement towards independence it means that:
everyone, every individual participant in the
movement was responsible for his own process of
nonviolence he/she had to confront the enemies
within: his own fear, his hatred for the opposing party
and his temptation for an armed rebellion (Gonsalves,
2010, p. 79).
169
And so, swadeshi points to activities that create the
foundations of autonomy and independence, and is a
form of empowerment, of ensuring that autonomous
acting can take place.
SWARAJ
To Gandhi, swadeshi is fundamentally bound up with
swaraj or 'self-' (swa) 'rule' (raj) (Pandharipande, 2011).
Hind Swaraj (M. K. Gandhi, 1998) is the title of one of
Gandhi’s central works in which he explains his vision
for Indian independence (Cox, 2007; M. K. Gandhi &
Parel, 1997; Mehta, 2011). Just as swadeshi means
much more than economic self-sufficiency, swaraj
means much more than political independence. It
points to sovereignty, but more importantly to the inner
freedom and self-determination of the individual and its
communities (Pradhan, 2012). Where swadeshi points
to empowerment; to creating the conditions for
independence, swaraj points to actual autonomy and
self-rule (Jahanbegloo, 2013)
National independence is not real swaraj to Gandhi.
Swaraj rests on self-control, responsibility for one’s
actions and their consequences (M. K. Gandhi & Parel,
1997), and like swadeshi, swaraj is a relational concept.
Peter Cox explains:
Understanding
the
self
as
fundamentally
contextualised and relational, it [swadeshi/swaraj]
inevitably conveys restraint, and the demands of
understanding and working within limits. Freedom is
not defined by lack of restraint but by an ability to
operate within the bounds of possibility and proper
order of mutual interdependence (Cox, 2007, p. 115).
170
Because Gandhi is concerned with the actual lives of
common people (Bondurant, 1965). for him the
personal is political and vice versa. Swadeshi and
swaraj serve as a bridge between the two (Paranjape,
2008). Gandhi’s emphasis in the whole process of
becoming autonomous is on local reforms and
“individual effort” (Bondurant, 1965, p. 180). In a
process of swadeshi we engage ourselves with our
immediate situation. We have to figure out what’s going
on, how we can address problems, which resources we
have, how those need to be adapted, what we might
need from others or what others might need from us.
Focussing thus on our own situation and acting
accordingly, is swaraj. Because the terms swadeshi and
swaraj are so closely related and can be said to
represent 'two sides of the same coin', I use them
jointly to denote one element of nonviolence.
Swadeshi/swaraj expresses the conviction that true
liberation or freedom can only be developed from
within. Within the country, within the community and
most fundamentally within the individual (Cox, 2007) It
might be helpful to use the image of concentric circles.
From the perspective of swadeshi/swaraj each
individual is to govern himself, and become an active
member of a community that in turn is self-governing
(Jahanbegloo, 2013). Neighbourliness is emphasized,
so that communal self-governing becomes possible. The
community itself should then apply those same
principles towards its surrounding communities, which
should each also be as self-sufficient and self-ruling as
possible. Localities should work together in regions,
171
regions in states and states within the nation.
Ultimately, nations should work together globally.
Thus, true independence is conceptualised as
interdependence, with an emphasis on mutual service.
Peter Gonsalves (2012) claims that swadeshi and
swaraj are very specific to the Indian independence
struggle. In his view the swadeshi movement addresses
the specific roots and problematic aspects of Britain’s
occupation of India.
Its focus on economic
independence for the masses, for instance in the form
of khadi, and more generally in the form of building
viable institutions to ensure independence are, in his
view, specific for the context of colonised India. He
states that nonviolence is practised in other
circumstances without aiming for swadeshi or swaraj. I
disagree with this view. Although I do agree that khadi
and certain other specific aspects of Gandhi’s
constructive program (such as the removal of
untouchability) are highly specific for the Indian
context, I would argue that both swadeshi and swaraj,
as general principles and understood in their wider
implications are not. In fact, I argue that they are
fundamental elements of nonviolence no matter which
context it is practised in. This, I will explore in the next
sections
RELATIONALITY
Put together swadeshi and swaraj point to a form of
autonomy. However, this is not autonomy in the
traditional sense, with which it is often compared
(Prabhu, 2008). Rather, as Cox summarizes
172
autonomy is not license but freedom in relation.
Autonomy should therefore be read not as an
isolationist and exclusive self-identification formed by
the erection of exclusive barriers, but as the
overcoming of heteronomy (Cox, 2007, p. 115).
In the traditional liberal understanding, the Kantian
view that autonomy is a defining characteristic of
rational and free moral agents (Mackenzie & Stoljar,
2000) and is a property of the individual will, rings
through. A person is autonomous in as far as she can
exercise her will without being influenced by the
“desires, inclinations, or the orders of others” (Russell
& Tokatlian, 2003, p. 3). Complete autonomy, though
desirable, is seldom possible in everyday life (Rossler,
2002). It is even less possible for those people (often
women) whose everyday lives are highly shaped by the
desires, and needs of others, for instance through their
roles as primary care givers.50
Perhaps not surprisingly, in feminist thinking the
concept of relational autonomy (Mackenzie & Stoljar,
2000) developed, as a critique of this traditional liberal
understanding (Christman, 2004). It is used to
conceptualise a different form of autonomy that does
justice to the emphasis feminist thinking lies on the
relationality of life and reality, and of the self.
Where in the liberalist understanding of autonomy the
self is defined as 'individual' in the sense of 'separate',
in relational autonomy the self is understood as
constituted by social ties (Christman, 2009).
50
This understanding of autonomy, leading to the (empirical) conclusion, f.i. by
Lawrence Kohlberg, that women are therefore generally less capable of developing
complete moral maturity, is profoundly problematized by Carol Gilligan (1993).
173
Relational autonomy departs from the premise that
people are essentially social beings, whose identities
develop within relations (Sherwin & Winsby, 2011), and
who’s autonomy is likewise developed within,
constrained and complicated by but also made possible
through relationships.
“Relational autonomy” is the label that has been given
to an alternative conception of what it means to be a
free, self-governing agent who is also socially
constituted and who possibly defines her basic value
commitments in terms of interpersonal relations and
mutual dependencies (Christman, 2004, p. 143)
Such a view of autonomy would do justice to relations
of dependence and interdependence (such as relations
of care and mutual support), communal identifications
and “the dynamics of the physical body” (BarvosaCarter, 2007, p. 1) that are fundamental to human life
(Christman, 2004). It also holds that the support of
others is necessary for the exercise of autonomy.
there is a social component built in to the very
meaning of autonomy. That is, the subject-centred
activities of reflecting, planning, choosing, and
deciding that enter into self-determination are social
activities in both a subjective and an objective sense.
Subjectively, material for reflection is built on the
foundation of a shared past and future expectations
that involve others' participation (Donchin, 2000, p.
239).
Autonomy is seen in this view as a process of finding a
personal balance within constantly changing relations,
a search for a “contextually sensitive decision making
174
processes” (Cox, 2007, p. 114). Autonomy is not just
what helps us to remain an individual in the midst of
relations, but is the process of being an individual
because of them. In the relational view of autonomy
people can only develop autonomy through social
interaction (Friedman, 2013), in a context of meaning,
values and reflective practices that are always
constituted by and through relations. To take this one
step further, we can say that the practice of autonomy
itself is thus a social practice. Not only are we formed
by social relations, our (autonomous) dealings within
them help to form others as well as the larger social
fabric. Both of the latter again have bearing upon
ourselves (Friedman, 2013).51 Thus, our autonomy and
our use of it is connected to the nature of the social
context. This context can impede autonomous action,
but is at the same time both the means through which
and the field in which autonomy is enacted (Mackenzie
& Stoljar, 2000). Then, it becomes crucial to analyse
the effect and role of norms, values, institutions,
attitudes and beliefs to see how they help or hinder the
(capacity for) autonomy development for each person
(Mackenzie & Stoljar, 2000) and to act in a way that
helps to increase the capacity for autonomous action
for each.
Swadeshi/swaraj points to such a form of autonomy
in which becoming fully human, fully oneself does not
rest on freeing oneself from relations and their
influence (Prabhu, 2008), but to cultivating autonomy
and cultivating the circumstances that enable
51
In my article on the role of satya (truth telling) in nonviolence, chapter 3 in this
book, I explain how, in a similar vein, for Gandhi and Havel 'living in truth' is not just an
individual choice that has bearing on one’s personal life but also a social and political
act that increases options for others and helps to shape (change) social reality.
175
autonomy. I will try to clarify this further, in the next
section, by looking at a specific practice.
NVR
Often, nonviolence practices are thought of in the
context of social movements working for civil or
political change, or in the context of individual change
and development (see for instance: Easwaran, 2011).
However, in recent years some nonviolent practices
have been developed, that focus on the interpersonal
level. As becomes clear from the outline of relational
autonomy, the interpersonal is an important locus of
swadeshi/swaraj.
One of those practises, that has been gaining quite
some attention is Nonviolent Communication (NVC)
devised by Marshall Rosenberg (Rosenberg, 2003,
2005). Put briefly, NVC is a method that teaches people
to stop making habitual responses to the demands of
others, or to conflicts, based only on personal value
judgements. Instead people learn to make independent
responses based on actual engagement with the other
and his or her needs as well as on their own needs in
the situation (Mayton, 2009; Rosenberg, 2003).
According to Rosenberg, and to many people who apply
the method in their life and work, this technique helps
to “diffuse [sic.] a potentially violent situation and can
precipitate nonviolent behavior when interpersonal
conflicts occur” (Mayton, 2009, p. 241).
While only a small volume of research literature
exists on this method, NVC is applied today in a
growing number of fields, including health care (Sears,
2010), education (see for instance: Burleson et al.,
176
2012) the justice system (Nash, 2007) conflict
resolution (Dickinson, 1998; Lasater & Lasater, 2009)
and many more.
Another, lesser known practice that is none the less
making headway and is showing promising results, is
the training model devised by Israeli psychologist Haim
Omer (2004, 2011) for parents of children that exhibit
violent or (self-)destructive behaviour. This training,
called Nonviolent Resistance (NVR) by Omer, aims to
help parents cope with and change the problematic
behaviour of their child. Omer positions his method
emphatically
within
the
nonviolence
paradigm,
referring to Gandhi (1927a), King (2001), Sharp
(1973a, 1973b, 1973c) and others (see Omer, 2004) as
having laid the ground stones upon which this training
is built.
The point of the NVR training is to equip parents (or
other care takers) with both concrete responses to the
violence, as well as with a general sense of
empowerment during troubling family circumstances. It
rests on what Omer calls ‘New Authority’ (NA) (Omer,
2011). When confronted with extreme behaviour of
their child, parents usually find that they have no
effective way to respond. Quite often parents end up in
a struggle for control over the household with their
child. They are mostly not willing to use violence, but
find that their ordinary ways of dealing with their child
and establishing authority fail. This then leads parents
to feel utterly helpless and these feelings of
helplessness increase the risk that they eventually do
become violent themselves or respond extremely harsh
to the child’s behaviour, thereby escalating the
177
situation (Omer, 2004). This then leaves parents with a
sense of failure and brings on more feelings of
helplessness. Another common response of parents is
submission. They give in to the demands of the child so
as to try and preserve an atmosphere of normalcy and
peace in the family. Especially if there are other
children in the family, parents go to great lengths to try
and preserve some sense of regular family life.
Submission of the parents then increases demands by
the child. Both kind of responses (which in many cases
happen side by side) establish their own spiral of
escalation. The NVR method attempts to break through
these cycles.
The method is aimed at helping parents overcome
their feelings of helplessness by providing them with
responses that neither give in nor lash out, but do
provide resistance to the violence of the child (Omer,
2004, 2011; Rodenburg, Breugem, & Tempe, 2010;
Weinblatt & Omer, 2008). Omer tries to outline a new
way of exercising authority, firmly rooted in
nonviolence. Instead of attempting to control the
behaviour of the child, NA rests on the assumption that
parents can only control themselves. Where traditional
forms of authority are often based on hierarchy and
distance, NA is based on “presence and proximity”
(Omer, 2011, p. 4).
Even though Omer’s method is meant to be used in a
family context NVR deliberately applies a terminology
of struggle, resistance and power. Parents need to
resist the violent behaviour of the child, and restore
their own power in the household. This terminology
sometimes makes parents or therapists hesitant to use
the method, because it seems that the child is
178
presented as the (sole) perpetrator and its voice is
insufficiently heard (Newman & Nolas, 2008).
However, the term power is used in a very particular
way in NVR. The aim of the method is not to overcome,
subdue or control the child, but rather to reinstall the
parents (and subsequently also the child’s) sense of
self-worth and personal power.52 The idea is to protect
both the child as well as the parents from the
destructive effects of the violence and lead everyone in
the family to a constructive way of responding to
occurring situations and to each other.
The responses of the NVR method are based on a
firm commitment to nonviolence. In the training
parents pledge to refrain from using violence (a given
for most parents), but also from humiliating or
derogating speech. Instead of applying punishment, the
parents learn to contrast the aggression with a
different kind of response (Jakob, 2011, p. 8), and Omer
states that:
Opting for nonviolent resistance means acting so that
the perpetuation of oppression and violence is
gradually made impossible (Omer, 2004, pp. 7–8).
In the training parents are presented with a number of
concrete actions to take when violence or high-risk
behaviour occurs. Many of these are directly derived
from methods used in nonviolent social action. The
most important ones are sit-ins, telephone rounds,
tailing and forms of strike. 53 Parents are also asked to
break the silence and “lift the veil of secrecy”(Weinblatt
52
This different way of wielding power can be seen as an instance of integrative power
as described by Kenneth Boulding (Boulding, 1990, 1999). For an in-depth discussion on
this notion see chapters 2 and 5 in this book.
179
& Omer, 2008, p. 78) about the violence. They should
call on their own social network and inform other
people in the child’s life, such as teachers, family
members and other parents, of their situation and the
decision to apply NVR and ask them to support the
process.
Complete openness is also applied towards the child
(Rodenburg et al., 2010). Parents inform the child
about their intentions to stop the violence and to use
NVR, and about which steps are taken and why.
Parents are encouraged to continuously perform acts of
reconciliation and respect towards the child (without
surrendering). In a way, parents are asked to seek
cooperation with the child to end the violence. Even
though the child might not be willing to cooperate, the
parents must emphasize and maintain the positive
aspects of the relationship. Through this, the parents
convey the message that “we are your parents and we
are in your life and will not let you go” (Omer, 2004,
2011; Rodenburg et al., 2010; Weinblatt & Omer,
2008).
Just as with nonviolence in the socio-political realm,
NVR relies on personal interposition, contact and
persistent presence, in this case parental presence
(Omer et al., 2008). Parental presence refers not only
to general or psychological presence in the child’s life,
but also the physical presence of the parent at the
moment or the place when the child is showing the
problematic behaviour. The parent goes in person to
the location where the child uses drugs or alcohol,
interposes himself when the child is violent towards
53
The specific techniques and steps of the method can be found in the Handbook of
Nonviolent Resistance that is a separate section in (Omer, 2004).
180
someone else, and constantly resist
behaviour. During a sit-in, for example:
unwanted
the parents enter the child’s room, sit down, and
announce to the child that they will stay there and
wait for the child’s proposal to avoid the problem
behavior that triggered the sit-in. The parents are
instructed to remain quiet, strictly avoiding
arguments and provocations. The sit-in lasts up to 1
hr [sic] (unless an acceptable proposal is made by the
child). The therapist prepares the parents to
withstand the various reactions that the child might
evince without escalating. The sit-in thus serves also
as a valuable training ground for the parents in the
prevention of escalation. The sit-in is envisaged not as
a punishment, but as a means of manifesting parental
presence and increasing the parents’ capacity of
resisting without escalating (Weinblatt & Omer, 2008,
p. 80).
The method is a form of constructive, rather than
obstructive resistance (Omer et al., 2008). It is aimed at
actively creating a new situation and new relationships
in the household. The claim of NVR is that by focussing
on changing parent’s reactions to the violence, the
behaviour of the child will gradually change, because
the desired effect, (power and control in the household)
is no longer reached (Omer, 2004). This might seem
overly idealistic, but the method is receiving growing
international
acclaim
and
being
implemented,
researched and further developed to be used in
different contexts (see for instance: AvrahamKrehwinkel & Aldridge, 2010; Lebowitz et al., 2012;
Omer et al., 2008).
181
SWADESHI/SWARAJ IN NONVIOLENCE
Omer’s NVR clearly highlights the way in which
swadeshi/swaraj plays a role in nonviolence. The
primary goal of NVR is to establish a change of
behaviour in the parents, rather than the child. Parents
have to give up the idea that they can control the
behaviour of their child, but they might be able to
influence the child through a change in their own
actions. This shift in focus reduces parental
helplessness, because parents are no longer burdened
by the notion that they are responsible for changing the
child.
Acceptance of the limits of control is reflected (…) in
the substantial difference between punishment and
resistance. Punishment is an attempt at control. This
is particularly obvious in the psychological concept of
negative (or positive) reinforcement. (…)The situation
differs when a parent or teacher resists undesirable
behavior by the child (…). The difference between
resistance and punishment is not just semantic. The
attention of the authority figure displaying resistance
is focused on conveying a clear and determined
stance, whereas meting out punishment focuses solely
on results (Omer, 2011, p. 16)
The new behaviour rests on increasing parental
presence, preventing escalations, implementing and
persevering in nonviolent responses and measures and
creating openness toward and gaining support from the
surrounding network (Jakob, 2011).
The NVR training teaches parents to assume
responsibility for their own part in the escalation
process. This is not the same as laying the blame for
the child’s behaviour with the parents. The question is
182
not one of blame, but one of response toward the
behaviour and responsibility for one’s actions. And so,
NVR is to a large extent concerned with empowerment
and creating circumstances in which parents (and by
extension also the child) are free to act autonomously
rather than be swept away by each other’s responses,
and it is precisely this that is conveyed by
swadeshi/swaraj.
Feminist thinking on relational autonomy stresses the
importance of understanding the self as a self-incontext, and describes the different options for
autonomy that become thus available, but also the kind
of behaviour that it demands (Cox, 2007; Friedman,
2013; Mackenzie & Stoljar, 2000). When the self is
understood as a self-in-context, it becomes clear that a
form of self-restraint is necessary and that one needs to
find one's way within the limits given by the context
(Cox, 2007), rather than look for a way to be as free of
those limits as possible. Explained in terms of Omer’s
New Authority, self-restraint becomes a basis for
authority and autonomy, because it frees
those in authority from the compulsion to triumph,
and to retaliate when provoked. Although the
traditional authority figure felt compelled again and
again to protect his honor, the new one is free to
decline any invitation to an imagined duel (Omer,
2011, pp. 8–9).
Omer's method is a good example of the working and
importance of swadeshi/swaraj, a form of relational
autonomy on the interpersonal level. But the same
principles apply on the social level. The parents can’t
directly change the behaviour of their child in Omer’s
183
NVR method, and likewise, social movements that use
nonviolence to establish civil or political change mostly
can’t control the system, the oppressor or adversary.
However, similar to the situation of the parents in
Omer's method, they can change the way in which they
operate within the situation or the system, or how they
behave towards their adversary. Summarized: one does
not have to change the system. By changing behaviour,
the system will change. This is not some form of magic,
but a result of systems being sets of relations.
Swadeshi/swaraj is the element of nonviolence that
affirms “agency, even in the subaltern54, it turns the
actor towards the local, the indigenous, the self” (Cox,
2007, p. 112). Even in a position that is perceived as
powerless, some form of agency still exists.
Gandhi’s above cited comments on India’s own
responsibility for its colonization point to that. And, just
like the parents in the NVR method are not to blame for
there children’s behaviour, for Gandhi it is also not a
matter of assigning blame. Rather, it is a way of
affirming that the subaltern is not just a bystander, but
plays a role in the situation as it exists. Therefore, it
can also play a role in changing it.
This agency, and the resources with which to express
it may not be articulate. It may be latent or
suppressed or ignored and devalued in the
54
Subaltern is a term used by Antonio Gramsci (see for instance: Gramsci, 1992) to
denote those social groups that are not part of, not represented by, or are actively
excluded from, the formal power structures of their society. At the same time those
groups are used to define the hegemonic group. For example: during colonisation, the
British as a colonizing power were not a homogeneous group, but consisted of different
socio-economic groups, with varying degrees of status, power and so on. Yet, all British
were part of the political elite, because they were non-Indian and therefore had certain
rights. The political system was set up to deny the Indian population representation,
even though certain Indians (for example local rulers) were allowed a certain amount of
power (see for instance: Beverley, Fish, & Jameson, 1999; H. Trivedi, 2011).
184
contemporary context, but nevertheless (…) such
resources are implicit (Cox, 2007, p. 113)
Swadeshi/swaraj represents the need for empowerment
and for the creating a situation in which real autonomy
can happen. In other words, it points to building
infrastructure and institutions, to the build up of formal
relations, that make communal autonomy possible. In
Gandhi’s Swadeshi movement, this can be found in the
emphasis on the constructive element. The mere
boycott of British goods is not enough; it would still not
mean true independence. To make the Indian
independence possible it is necessary to create
economic autonomy for the masses. Cotton had been
produced in India from time immemorial. Reviving the
cotton industry and reclaiming this as a source of
income for India therefore made sense. Economic
autonomy must mean self-sufficiency for the masses,
not just for an upper-class of industrial owners. The
lower classes would still depend on the cheapest goods
available. Therefore, the people of India should provide
a service to each other by committing to the use and
production of khadi, helping each other to be
independent.
And thus, swadeshi/swaraj is about more than just
being able to fend for yourself. It is a form of service.
The kind of autonomy it represents is not just
concerned with the self, but with the self-in-context.
Nonviolence implies that we act autonomously,
consciously within a set of relations, with a view to
serve others and support their autonomy, create
situations in which this is possible for others and for
ourselves and address situations in which this is not.
185
SUMMARY
In this dissertation research I look at nonviolence in the
context of humanistic studies, a multi-disciplinary
academic field that critically explores issues of
(existential) meaning and humanization, personal and
social aspects of ‘good living’. From this academic
background I attempt to answer the central research
question of this study: What is contemporary
nonviolence?
I use the term nonviolence not only to point to the
absence of violence, for instance when solving
problems or conflicts, but as substantive method, or
even a paradigm. Nonviolence has been a part of every
major religious tradition and has been practised for
centuries and in every part of the world. Yet, no
language in the world has a general term to express the
idea of nonviolence as an authentic and proactive
concept. It is only referred to as a negation of
something else. Nonviolence is not violence.
People who have actively promoted nonviolence in
recent times, have stumbled over this lack of adequate
terms. It caused them to figure out for themselves what
it means. Taken at face value, nonviolence has often
been understood to mean passivity, non-interference or
even cowardice. To explain that this was not at all what
they were getting at, practitioners of nonviolence have,
in many instances, come up with their own way to
describe the pro-active nature. Gandhi, for instance,
coined the new term satyagraha (holding on to truth) to
express his method for waging struggle. In the
Philippines it became alay dangal (to offer dignity). But
these different terms do not clear up the question as to
what nonviolence is. Is one expression of it
(satyagraha) the same as another (alay dangal)?
The aim of this study is twofold. First is to discern if
it is possible to understand nonviolence as a
substantive and pro-active concept, independent of
specific cultural, religious or practical contexts. And, if
so, what that would look like. The second is to see if
from such an independent notion it is possible to
develop a framework for analysis and practice of
nonviolence. The thesis consists of five independent but
related articles and an overarching chapter, in which I
try to answer these questions.
The Gandhian understanding of nonviolence has been
the starting point of my study. However, even though
Gandhi’s work provides an important basis for
understanding nonviolence, many developments have
taken place in nonviolent practice and theory after
Gandhi. To come to an understanding of contemporary
nonviolence it is therefore important to go beyond
Gandhi and also study the way the Gandhian concepts
have been taken up by others. In doing so I have looked
at which concepts have carried over to the work of
other thinkers and practitioners and how these
concepts have been developed and changed and what
remained the same.
Although I have looked at the life and work of many
thinkers, practitioners and movements, my study does
not specifically focus on one of them. However, in the
description of my research results I do refer to many
individuals and movements, as examples or to clarify
and explore the different elements of nonviolence.
It became clear that nonviolence understood solely
in a strategic sense does not allow us to understand
188
most of the reasoning and moral aspects that are for so
many a fundamental part. I understand nonviolence
therefore in a principled sense and this study focuses
on the philosophical and intentional aspects of
nonviolence, within which the strategies take shape.
After an analysis of these diverse descriptions of
nonviolence, I conclude that five basic elements form
the core of modern nonviolence: satya (truth-seeking),
ahimsa
(non-harming),
tapasya
(self-suffering),
sarvodaya (the welfare of all) and swadeshi/swaraj
(relational autonomy). These five elements together
point to a specific way of wielding power that is best
denoted with the term ‘integrative power’ as coined by
Kenneth Boulding.
Each of these elements is a complex and layered
notion and I pose that these elements are present in
and equally important to each application of
nonviolence. In this dissertation I try to analyse these
five elements, what they imply and what their role is in
nonviolence, by exploring the work of Vaclav Havel,
Haim Omer and René Girard, among others, as well as
radical ecology and endogenous development.
I denote these elements with the Sanskrit terms
originating in the work of Gandhi. I argue that these
terms are suitable to adequately capture this
complexity and coherence. Gandhi already used these
mostly ancient terms in a slightly new and amended
way, often without shedding their original meaning. As
a result of contemporary nonviolent efforts and
experience gained since Gandhi’s struggle, their
meaning (in the context of nonviolence) has expanded
even more. This does, however, not necessarily mean
that the terms themselves are used in every context.
Even so, it is my claim that although in different
189
contexts different terms are being used, they point to
these same elements.
The first element is satya, meaning ‘truth’ in
Sanskrit. To Gandhi, truth was both universal as well as
particular. He was convinced that there was such a
thing as universal truth, yet people could only
understand it in a relative sense. Gandhi wanted people
to examine each situation, to get to understand what
was at stake for all involved, so as to arrive at a fuller
understanding of truth. Although people should strive
to understand the truth of every situation, one can
never claim to be all-knowing. In Gandhian thought,
truth is based in experience. We can experience
something to be true, yet someone else can come to an
opposite conclusion based on his or her own
experiences. In times of disagreement, it could be that
the other party sees something more of the truth than
we do, even though we are convinced that we are right.
This does not mean that we should instantly give up our
own ideas about the truth, it means that we allow for
the possibility for both truths to exist. This would make
satya an extremely relative concept, were it not for the
fact that each experience still has universal value. The
experience of truth does not lead to a rule for everyone
to follow, but it does lead to a rule for oneself to follow.
Satya therefore implies that “we are dedicated to the
truth we perceive, to the truth we understand”.
This element takes a central place in the work of
Václav Havel, and in this study I have focussed on his
ideas to explore satya. Havel’s work shows that satya
demands that we see the world as an arena where
different truths meet and interact, something that he
denotes with ‘the logic of stories’. Both Gandhi and
Havel stress that the personal and the political, the
individual and the public quest to live in truth as
190
intertwined. The personal search for one’s identity and
truth are done in private, but acting upon one’s truth, is
a public act and has social consequences. So, the role
of satya in nonviolence is not just a moral imperative to
‘live in truth’, but a call to action, to participate in the
creation of social realities that are more nonviolent.
Ahimsa, literally meaning ‘the absence of the
intention to do harm’, is the second element. It implies
nonviolence on the physical level, but also through
words, behaviour and thoughts. Ahimsa came to mean
not only harmlessness in a negative sense, avoiding
harm, but also in a positive sense, as addressing ‘harm’
for instance through social service. When we encounter
circumstances in which we or others experience
injustice and we do not venture to remedy the situation,
we are from the point of view of nonviolence to a
certain extent complicit. Thus, acting without the
intention to do harm, means addressing the problems
we encounter as best we can.
Whereas in nonviolence thinking this is understood
foremost (though not solely) in a social way, a very
similar attitude is developed in relation to the natural
world, in the context of Radical Ecology. Radical
Ecology is a way of thinking that searches how a radical
transformation of human “being in the world” can be
brought about, that would allow humans and nonhuman beings both to flourish. In this study I have
compared the notion of ahimsa to this specific way of
relating to “the other” that Radical Ecology proposes.
This shift in attitude is not in the first place related to
dealing with an antagonistic other (although nature is
sometimes cast that way in western thinking), but with
an “other” that is a different life form. However, in both
cases the other has a different outlook on life, and
different needs for flourishing. Although the term
191
ahimsa is seldom mentioned in a radical ecological
context, the shift in attitude it represents is very
similar, amounting to “saying “yes” to all living beings”.
Ahimsa points to the realisation that the lives of all
are intertwined and that harm to one ultimately
amounts to harm to all. Attitudes in which humanity as
a whole, or specific human groups are, for whatever
reason, perceived as superior and therefore entitled to
more resources or chances for self-development are
harmful. Ahimsa denotes an attitude towards others in
which we make every effort not to harm their chances
of ‘being’, their dignity and chances for selfdevelopment, by consciously changing the way we
relate to them, and by actively cultivating an attitude
that helps others to flourish, even those we see as
enemies, or those who we try to resist. The cultivation
of such an attitude is no simple task as Gandhi, Khan,
King and Radical Ecological thinkers have equally
shown. But from the perspective of nonviolence it is the
only way to come to the fundamental changes.
Out of the five elements tapasya is usually the most
difficult to grasp, certainly from a western point of
view. Tapasya translates as both ‘heat’ and ‘suffering’.
The role of tapasya in nonviolence is threefold. First, it
implies the willingness to suffer instead of retaliating
when confronted with violence or injustice. This breaks
the cycle of violence. It is not the same as giving in. It
means addressing the violence by not participating in
the dynamic it calls for; fight, flight or freeze. Tapasya
then becomes an agent for self-transformation. An
example is the firm internal struggle to overcome ill
will to the opponent. Tapasya also points towards
dedication or discipline. Living according to ‘truth’
192
might require discipline which can amount to
‘suffering’.
In the context of this study I have compared tapasya
to the work of philosopher René Girard. To Girard
violence is connected to sacrifice. However, in their
writings on nonviolence, Gandhi, King and others speak
of the role of sacrifice in nonviolence and the
dedication of one’s life to the well-being of all. The
sacrifice that tapasya refers to is the creation of a
situation in which the humanity of all people can rise to
the surface, rather than adhering to self-preservation at
the expense of the other.
Girard himself remains sceptical about the practical
realities of a nonviolent society, but takes it to mean a
complete elimination of vengeance and reprisal. I
maintain that this is what is meant by tapasya.
The fourth element is that of swadeshi/swaraj.
Swadeshi means self-reliance, being able to care for
yourself, act independently. In a political sense
swadeshi implies economic self-reliance and having
your own institutions. For individuals it means to be as
self-sufficient as possible, to have agency and selfefficacy and create the circumstances that allow you to
do so. Swaraj means self-rule. This can refer to political
autonomy. But it also implies autonomy at the personal
level, like not giving in to impulses or habits or
coercion by others (tapasya), not violating the
autonomy of others (ahimsa), being able to make your
own choices based on the truth as you understand it
(satya), with a view to the welfare of all (sarvodaya). It
is thus a relational concept of autonomy, meaning that
one’s autonomy can only exist in relation to that of
others. And here, it becomes clear that the five
elements are interrelated.
193
In this study I look at a specific practice of
nonviolence to clarify swadeshi/swaraj: a method for
working with violent and self-destructive children
developed by Israeli Psychologist Haim Omer. Omer’s
method is to a large extent concerned with
empowerment and creating circumstances in which
parents (and by extension also the child) are not swept
away by each other’s responses, but can deal with the
violence in a way that addresses the problem, and also
helps the family as a whole to function better.
Swadeshi/swaraj points to such an attitude of autonomy
within a web of relations.
The fifth element of nonviolence is sarvodaya, or the
welfare of all. In a particular situation it would mean
the welfare of all involved in the situation. Solving any
form of injustice or conflict through nonviolence means
addressing the injustice, not the person committing it.
In the Christian vocabulary of Martin Luther King;
‘condemning the sin, not the sinner’. The welfare of all
can, for instance, not be served if punishment for an
injustice causes harm in its own right. Means and ends
have to be in accordance. One particular contemporary
practice that is closely connected with nonviolence and
highlights the salient aspects of sarvodaya is that of
Restorative Justice. Restorative Justice is a practise of
addressing crimes in a way that does not seek
retribution (an equal amount of harm dealt to the
perpetrator through punishment), but seeks to repair
as much as possible the damage that is done and the
re-integration of all parties i.e. with the uplift or wellbeing of all in mind.
These five elements, form a coherent and dynamic
whole that constitutes nonviolence. As I understand
nonviolence, each of these elements have to be present,
194
as they supplement and support each other. The five
elements together form a framework which can be used
as a tool for analyses as well as a starting point for
formulating practice. Nonviolence, understood in this
five-fold way, implies a specific form of wielding power,
for which I use, following Kenneth Boulding, the term
integrative power.
For Boulding, from the three basic ways of wielding,
integrative power is the most important in comparison
to the other two; threat and exchange power, which are
often together paraphrased as ‘the carrot and the
stick’. Integrative power is the power of and through
human relationships. It is connected to everything that
establishes a relation either personal or in the form of
institutions or organizations.
When we look at nonviolence as a praxis, we can
divide it into two distinct but related sections,
‘constructive program’ and ‘obstructive program’.
Obstructive program - the various forms of protest
against and non-cooperation with violence and
injustice- is the most widely known part of nonviolence.
The constructive side of nonviolence points to the
development of new (social) structures that embody
and support the nonviolent realities one strives for. On
the other hand, constructive activities can themselves
become a form of protest when the creation of
alternative (parallel) institutions becomes a way to
circumvent those that are deemed violent or
problematic. In a way, constructive program aims at
structural nonviolence.
Therefore, my summarized answer to the main
research question 'what is contemporary nonviolence?'
is that contemporary nonviolence is a pro-active and
substantial mode of conduct, of which the universal
characteristics
are
satya,
ahimsa,
tapasya,
195
swadeshi/swaraj and sarvodaya, as explained above and
explored in more detail in the rest of this book.
Together they amount to a specific form of wielding
power, here denoted with the term integrative power.
In addition, nonviolence has both an obstructive and a
constructive side, which both are expressions of these
five elements.
Nonviolence has both personal as well as social
implications and in this light nonviolence can be seen
as a tool for humanization, resting in processes of
existential meaning giving, making nonviolence an
important topic in the context of humanistic studies.
196
SAMENVATTING
In dit proefschrift onderzoek ik geweldloosheid tegen
de achtergrond van de humanistiek. Humanistiek is een
multidisciplinaire wetenschap die zingeving en
humanisering, de persoonlijke en sociale kanten van
'goed leven', kritisch onderzoekt en bestudeert. Vanuit
deze academische achtergrond probeer ik de centrale
vraag van dit onderzoek te beantwoorden: wat is
hedendaagse geweldloosheid?
Ik gebruik de term geweldloosheid hier niet alleen
om te verwijzen naar de afwezigheid van geweld,
bijvoorbeeld bij het oplossen van conflicten of
problemen, maar vooral ook om te verwijzen naar een
eigenstandige methode of zelfs een paradigma. Het
idee van geweldloosheid is terug vinden in iedere grote
religieuze traditie en wordt al eeuwen lang in de
praktijk gebracht, overal ter wereld. Toch is er in geen
enkele taal een algemene term te vinden die het idee
van geweldloosheid als authentiek en proactief concept
uitdrukt. Telkens wordt het uitsluitend als een negatie
benoemd. Geweldloosheid is geen geweld. Maar, wat is
het dan wel?
Mensen die zich in de recente geschiedenis actief
met geweldloosheid hebben beziggehouden zijn ook
steeds tegen dit gebrek aan adequate terminologie
aangelopen. Dat heeft hen er toe aangezet voor zichzelf
uit te zoeken wat geweldloosheid precies inhoudt. Op
het eerste gezicht wordt geweldloosheid vaak verstaan
als passiviteit, niet-inmenging, of zelfs lafheid. Om uit
199
te leggen dat dit absoluut niet was waar zij op doelden,
hebben deze beoefenaars van geweldloosheid vaak hun
eigen termen bedacht die wel recht deden aan de proactieve aard van het concept. Gandhi bijvoorbeeld,
bedacht de term satyagraha (vasthouden aan waarheid)
voor zijn methode om voor sociale rechtvaardigheid te
strijden. Op de Filipijnen werd het alay dangal (het
aanbieden van waardigheid). Maar deze verschillende
termen geven geen helder antwoord op de vraag wat
geweldloosheid is. Is de ene uitdrukking ervan
(satyagraha) echt hetzelfde als de andere (alay dangal)?
Het doel van deze studie is tweeledig. Ten eerste
om te zien of het mogelijk is hedendaagse
geweldloosheid te begrijpen als een zelfstandig en
proactief concept, los van specifieke culturele,
religieuze of praktische contexten, en zo ja, hoe dat er
dan uit zou zien? Ten tweede om te zien of het vanuit
zo'n eigenstandig concept van geweldloosheid mogelijk
is een kader te ontwikkelen voor analyse en het
vormgeven van praktijken.
Het proefschrift bestaat uit vijf afzonderlijke (maar
samenhangende) artikelen en een overkoepelend
hoofdstuk, waarin ik probeer deze vragen te
beantwoorden.
De Gandhiaanse opvatting van geweldloosheid is het
vertrekpunt van dit onderzoek. Echter, hoewel Gandhi's
werk een belangrijke basis vormt voor het begrijpen
van hedendaagse geweldloosheid, hebben er veel
ontwikkelingen in het denken over en praktiseren van
geweldloosheid plaatsgevonden ná Gandhi. Om tot een
goed begrip ervan te komen is het daarom belangrijk
om verder te kijken en te bestuderen op welke manier
200
Gandhi's concepten zijn overgenomen door anderen. Ik
heb bekeken welke elementen terug zijn te vinden in de
theorieën en praktijken van anderen en hoe deze
concepten zich daar verder hebben ontwikkeld en zijn
veranderd, en wat hetzelfde gebleven is.
Hoewel ik het leven en werk van verschillende
denkers, doeners en groepen heb bestudeerd, richt
mijn onderzoek zich niet specifiek op één ervan. Bij de
beschrijving van mijn onderzoeksresultaten refereer ik
aan verschillende individuen en bewegingen als
voorbeelden en om de elementen te verhelderen en uit
te werken.
Het is daarbij duidelijk geworden dat wanneer
geweldloosheid uitsluitend wordt opgevat in een
strategische zin, we de redeneringen en morele
overwegingen die voor velen een fundamenteel
onderdeel zijn van geweldloosheid niet kunnen
berijpen. Ik vat geweldloosheid daarom in principiële
zin op en dit onderzoek richt zich op de filosofische en
intentionele aspecten waarbinnen de strategieën
worden vormgegeven.
Na een analyse van de diverse beschrijvingen van
geweldloosheid, concludeer ik dat vijf basiselementen
de kern van hedendaagse geweldloosheid vormen:
satya (het zoeken naar waarheid), ahimsa (nietschaden), tapasya (het aangaan van lijden), sarvodaya
(streven naar het welzijn van allen) en swadeshi/swaraj
(relationele autonomie). Deze vijf elementen samen,
wijzen in de richting van een specifieke vorm van
machtsuitoefening die het best kan worden aangeduid
met de term “integratieve macht” die is bedacht door
Kenneth Boulding.
201
Elk van deze elementen is een complex en gelaagd
begrip. Naar mijn mening zijn deze elementen
noodzakelijkerwijs aanwezig in iedere uiting van
geweldloosheid en allemaal even belangrijk ervoor. In
dit proefschrift tracht ik deze vijf elementen, wat ze
impliceren en wat hun rol in geweldloosheid is, te
doorgronden door onder andere het werk van Vaclav
Havel, Haim Omer en René Girard te exploreren,
evenals de Radicale Ecologie en “endogenous
development”.
Ik duid deze elementen aan met de termen uit het
Sanskriet zoals die voorkomen in het werk van Gandhi,
omdat die mijns inziens geschikt zijn om de
complexiteit en samenhang van de elementen goed uit
te drukken. Gandhi gebruikte deze (soms eeuwen oude)
termen al op een enigszins nieuwe en aangepaste
manier, vaak zonder hun oorspronkelijke betekenis los
te laten. Als gevolg van de hedendaagse geweldloze
inspanningen en ervaringen die zijn opgedaan sinds the
strijd van Gandhi, heeft hun betekenis (in de context
van geweldloosheid) zich nog verder uitgebreid. Dat wil
echter niet zeggen dat deze termen daadwerkelijk in
iedere situatie gebruikt worden. Desondanks is het mijn
these
dat
hoewel
in
verschillende
situaties
verschillende uitdrukkingen worden gebruikt, ze steeds
naar deze vijf elementen verwijzen.
Het eerste element is satya, dat 'waarheid' betekent in
het Sanskriet. Zoals gezegd is het werk van Gandhi
mijn vertrekpunt. In Gandhi's opvatting is waarheid
zowel universeel als specifiek of relatief. Hij is er van
overtuigd dat er één universele waarheid of realiteit
bestaat, maar dat mensen die alleen ten dele kunnen
202
kennen en begrijpen. Bovendien is in zijn opvatting de
realiteit meervoudig. Gandhi wil dat mensen iedere
situatie onderzoeken en bevragen om te ontdekken wat
daarin belangrijk is voor alle betrokkenen. Op die
manier kunnen mensen tot een groter inzicht in de
waarheid komen. Hoewel hij vindt dat mensen moeten
streven naar een zo volledig mogelijk inzicht in iedere
situatie, kan niemand zeggen dat hij of zij alwetend is.
In het Gandhiaanse denken is waarheid gegrond in
de ervaring. We kunnen iets als waar ervaren, maar
iemand anders kan tot een tegenovergestelde conclusie
komen op basis van zijn of haar eigen (heel andere)
ervaringen. In het geval van onenigheid kan het zo zijn
dat de andere partij meer ziet van de waarheid dan wij,
ook al zijn wij er van overtuigd dat we gelijk hebben.
Dat wil niet zeggen dat we onze ideeën over de
waarheid meteen moeten opgeven, het wil zeggen dat
we de mogelijkheid voor het bestaan van beide
waarheden moeten openhouden. Dat zou satya een
uitermate relativistisch begrip maken, ware het niet dat
iedere ervaring nog steeds universele waarde heeft,
alle ervaringen zijn echt. De ervaring van één
specifieke waarheid kan niet leiden tot een regel die
iedereen moet volgen (dat zou de echtheid van andere
ervaringen ontkennen), maar wel tot een regel voor
onszelf. Satya impliceert dus dat we toegewijd zijn aan
de waarheid zoals wij die ervaren.
Hoewel hij het woord niet gebruikt staat dit element
ook centraal in het werk van Václav Havel, en in dit
onderzoek wend ik me tot zijn ideeën om het begrip
satya verder uit te werken. Havel laat zien dat satya
vraagt dat we de wereld beschouwen als een arena
waar verschillende waarheden elkaar ontmoeten en op
203
elkaar inwerken, iets wat hij benoemd als 'de logica van
verhalen'. Zowel Gandhi als Havel benadrukken dat het
persoonlijke en het politieke, de individuele en de
publieke zoektocht naar waarheid nauw met elkaar
verweven zijn. De persoonlijke zoektocht naar je
identiteit en je eigen waarheid is vooral een privé
aangelegenheid, maar het handelen vanuit je waarheid
is een publieke daad en heeft gevolgen in en voor je
sociale omgeving. De confrontatie met andere
waarheden biedt een gelegenheid om tot diepere en
meer complexe inzichten te komen. Het opleggen van
één waarheid die voor iedereen zou moeten gelden is
daarentegen dehumaniserend en gewelddadig omdat zij
de mogelijkheid van andere ervaringen ontkent.
Daarom is het nodig dat wij onze eigen waarheid
uitdragen, zodat anderen daarmee geconfronteerd
kunnen worden. Havel laat zien dat dit nog niet zo
simpel is. We stellen onze eigen inzichten ermee ter
discussie, stellen onszelf bloot aan kritiek en in
situaties waarin vooral één specifieke versie van de
waarheid gewenst is, bijvoorbeeld in een dictatuur, kan
dit grote gevolgen hebben. Maar het handelen vanuit je
eigen waarheid kan daarmee ook een vorm van verzet
en van sociale verandering zijn. Je toont ermee in de
praktijk aan dat de opgelegde waarheid niet de enige is
en helpt daarmee ruimte te scheppen voor de waarheid
van anderen. De rol van satya in geweldloosheid is dus
niet alleen die van een morele opdracht om in waarheid
te leven, maar ook een oproep tot handelen, tot het
realiseren
van
een
sociale
werkelijkheid
die
geweldlozer is.
Ahimsa, het tweede element, betekent letterlijk 'de
afwezigheid van de intentie schade toe te brengen'. Het
204
impliceert geweldloosheid op het fysieke niveau, maar
ook in woorden, gedrag en zelfs gedachten. Geleidelijk
aan heeft ahimsa naast de negatieve betekenis (het
vermijden van schade) ook een positieve betekenis
gekregen, die van het aanpakken van situaties waarin
schade wordt toegebracht, bijvoorbeeld via sociale
dienstverlening. Wanneer we geconfronteerd worden
met
omstandigheden
waarin
ons
of
anderen
onrechtvaardigheid wordt aangedaan en we niet
proberen iets aan die situatie te veranderen, zijn we
vanuit het gezichtspunt van geweldloosheid tot op
zekere hoogte medeplichtig. Handelen zonder de
intentie schade toe te brengen betekent dus het
aanpakken van problemen, voor zover dat in ons
vermogen ligt.
Binnen het denken over geweldloosheid wordt dit
element in de eerste plaats (maar niet uitsluitend) op
een sociale manier opgevat. Echter, in de context van
de Radicale Ecologie wordt een soortgelijke houding
ontwikkeld maar dan in relatie tot de natuurlijke
omgeving. De Radicale Ecologie is een denkstroming
die zoekt naar hoe een radicale transformatie van 'het
mens-zijn in de wereld' tot stand kan worden gebracht,
die ertoe kan leiden dat zowel menselijke als nietmenselijke wezens in gelijke mate kunnen floreren. In
dit proefschrift heb ik het begrip ahimsa vergeleken
met deze specifieke manier van 'zich verhouden tot de
ander' die de Radicale Ecologie voorstelt. In de
Radicale Ecologie gaat het niet zozeer om een
verschuiving in de verhouding tot een ander als
tegenstander (hoewel de natuur soms wel zo
afgeschilderd wordt) maar tot een ander die een andere
levensvorm is. Desondanks heeft de ander in beide
205
gevallen een andere visie op het leven en heeft heel
verschillende dingen nodig om te kunnen floreren.
Hoewel de term ahimsa in de Radicale Ecologie
nauwelijks gebruikt wordt is de houdingsverschuiving
die wordt nagestreefd gelijksoortig. Deze komt neer op
het werkelijk kunnen bevestigen van de ander (in al zijn
anders-zijn).
Ahimsa verwijst naar het besef dat de levens van
allen met elkaar verbonden zijn en dat het schaden van
de één uiteindelijk neerkomt op het schaden van
iedereen. Het standpunt dat specifieke groepen
mensen, of de mensheid als geheel, op wat voor grond
dan ook superieur zouden zijn aan andere groepen en
daarom recht zouden hebben op meer middelen voor of
kansen op zelfontwikkeling is schadelijk. Ahimsa
vertegenwoordigt een houding ten opzichte van
anderen waarin we er naar streven hun kansen op
leven, hun waardigheid en hun mogelijkheden tot
zelfontwikkeling niet te schaden en zelfs proberen hun
welzijn en ontwikkeling te bevorderen. Zelfs ten
opzichte van tegenstanders en ook terwijl we ons tegen
hen verzetten. Het cultiveren van zo'n houding is niet
eenvoudig zoals Gandhi, Martin Luther King en ook de
Radicaal
Ecologen
laten
zien.
Maar
binnen
geweldloosheid is het de enige manier waarop er
werkelijke veranderingen tot stand gebracht kunnen
worden.
Van de vijf elementen is tapasya meestal het
moeilijkst te bevatten, met name vanuit een westers
perspectief. Tapasya kan worden vertaald zowel met
'hitte' als met 'lijden' en het speelt op op drie manieren
een rol in geweldloosheid. Ten eerste verwijst het naar
de bereidheid om het lijden aan te gaan, in plaats van
206
te kiezen voor vergelding wanneer we geconfronteerd
worden met geweld of onrechtvaardigheid. Dit
doorbreekt de geweldsspiraal. Tapasya wil niet zeggen
dat we moeten toegeven aan geweld of het lijdzaam
moeten ondergaan. Het wil zeggen dat we bewust uit
de gebruikelijke dynamiek van 'vluchten, vechten of
bevriezen' stappen. De tweede rol van tapasya is
daarom die van zelf-transformatie. Een voorbeeld is de
innerlijke worsteling om over aversie tegen een
tegenstander heen te komen. Ten derde verwijst
tapasya naar toewijding en discipline. De beoefening
van satya en ahimsa bijvoorbeeld vereist training,
geduld en de bereidheid om tegenstand en kritiek te
ontvangen.
In dit onderzoek heb ik de notie van tapasya
vergeleken met het werk van de filosoof René Girard.
Een centraal thema in het werk van Girard is dat van
'het offer' dat hij verbindt aan geweld. Echter, mensen
als Gandhi en Martin Luther King hebben het ook vaak
over het brengen van offers, maar juist in de context
van geweldloosheid. Het offer dat Girard beschrijft is
dat van een zondebok, die wordt opgeofferd en
uitgedreven om de cohesie van de oorspronkelijke
groep te waarborgen. Iedere vorm van geweld is een
afspiegeling van dit mechanisme, stelt Girard. Binnen
geweldloosheid speelt een ander offer een rol, daar
gaat het er om de gerichtheid op het eigene op te
offeren, zodat er ruimte ontstaat voor diversiteit en het
welzijn van allen ontplooid kan worden.
Girard stelt dat wanneer mensen de dynamiek van
de zondebok en het offeren ervan zouden doorzien, zij
in staat zouden zijn een andere keuze te maken en de
samenleving, waar volgens hem geweld nu een
207
fundamentele rol in speelt, anders zouden kunnen
vormgeven. Hoewel hij zelf sceptisch blijft over de reële
mogelijkheid om dit tot stand te brengen stelt hij dat
dat in ieder geval zou betekenen dat mensen iedere
impuls tot vergelding en wraak zouden moeten
opgeven. Binnen het denken over geweldloosheid staat
men daar minder sceptisch tegenover en verschillende
voorbeelden uit de praktijk laten zien dat mensen
daarin een heel eind kunnen komen, hoewel dit veel
moeite kost. Tapasya is het element in geweldloosheid
dat dat uitdrukt.
Het vierde element is swadeshi/swaraj. Swadeshi
betekent zelfstandigheid. In politieke zin verwijst
swadeshi naar economische zelfstandigheid en het
hebben van eigen instituties. Op het persoonlijke
niveau betekent het zo zelfvoorzienend mogelijk te zijn,
en onafhankelijk
en doelmatig kunnen zijn. Het
verwijst
ook
naar
het
kunnen
creëren
van
omstandigheden die zelfstandigheid mogelijk maken.
Swaraj betekent zelfbestuur. Dit kan verwijzen naar
politieke autonomie, maar ook naar autonomie op het
persoonlijke vlak. Swadeshi en swaraj hangen nauw
samen en zijn in dit onderzoek dan ook samengenomen.
Tegelijkertijd zijn ze ook verbonden met de andere
elementen
van
geweldloosheid.
Swadeshi/swaraj
verwijst bijvoorbeeld naar het vermogen impulsen,
gewoonten of dwang van anderen te kunnen weerstaan
(tapasya), het kunnen maken van eigen keuzes
gebaseerd op de waarheid zoals jij die ervaart (satya),
waarbij je zicht houdt op het welzijn van alle
betrokkenen (sarvodaya) zonder de autonomie van
anderen aan te tasten (ahimsa). Swadeshi/swaraj drukt
daarmee een relationeel concept van autonomie uit. De
208
relationele opvatting van autonomie gaat er van uit dat
autonomie alleen gestalte krijgt in relatie tot de
autonomie van anderen.
Om dit element verder uit te werken bestudeer ik in
dit proefschrift een specifieke praktijk; een methode
voor
het
omgaan
met
gewelddadige
en/of
zelfdestructieve kinderen die is ontwikkeld door de
Israëlische psycholoog Haim Omer. De methode van
Omer richt zich in belangrijke mate op de
empowerment van ouders en opvoeders en op het
creëren van omstandigheden waarin ouders en
kinderen niet meer worden meegezogen in elkaars
reacties. Pas dan kunnen zij met de problematische
situatie aan de slag gaan op een manier die het
probleem werkelijk aanpakt en waardoor het gezin als
geheel beter kan functioneren. Zeker in gezinsverband
staat het belang van de relaties, maar ook het
daarbinnen zelfstandig kunnen functioneren centraal.
Swadeshi/swaraj verwijst juist naar die dynamiek.
Het vijfde element tenslotte, is sarvodaya, oftewel
'het welzijn van allen'. In specifieke situaties verwijst
dit naar het welzijn van alle betrokkenen in de situatie.
Wanneer we door middel van geweldloosheid een
conflict of een vorm van onrecht willen aanpakken, wil
dat zeggen dat we proberen het probleem aan te
pakken zonder daarbij de ook het welzijn van de 'dader'
of tegenstander uit het oog te verliezen. Omdat
geweldloosheid uitgaat van een relationeel mensbeeld
kan het welzijn van allen niet gewaarborgd worden als
het verzet tegen onrechtvaardigheid zelf ook schade
veroorzaakt. Een eigentijdse praktijk die de prangende
aspecten van dit element goed weergeeft is
herstelrecht. Herstelrecht verwijst naar een heel scala
209
van methoden om om te gaan met criminaliteit, en met
daders en slachtoffers van misdrijven, op een manier
die niet in de eerste plaats is gericht op vergelding.
Hierbij wordt gezocht naar manieren om, voor zover
dat mogelijk is, de schade te herstellen en/of een weg
te vinden waarop zowel dader als slachtoffer op een zo
goed mogelijke manier verder kunnen met hun leven.
Deze vijf elementen zijn een coherent en dynamisch
geheel en vormen gezamenlijk geweldloosheid. In
geweldloosheid zoals dat in dit onderzoek is opgevat
moeten alle vijf elementen aanwezig zijn omdat ze
elkaar aanvullen en ondersteunen. Zou één van de
elementen ontbreken dan kan er niet werkelijk van
geweldloosheid spraken zijn. De vijf elementen samen
vormen
een
analyse-instrument
alsook
een
uitgangspunt voor het formuleren van praktijken.
Geweldloosheid op deze vijfvoudige manier opgevat,
impliceert een specifieke vorm van omgaan met en
uitoefenen van macht. Deze specifieke vorm duid ik
hier aan met de term integratieve macht.
Volgens Kenneth Boulding is van de drie mogelijke
vormen van machtsuitoefening integratieve macht de
belangrijkste in vergelijking met de andere twee:
dreigingsmacht en uitwisselingsmacht. Deze twee
laatste vormen worden vaak kort aangeduid met 'de
wortel en de stok'. Uitwisselingsmacht is ieder geval
van machtsuitoefening waarbij sprake is van één of
andere vorm van beloning en kan worden samengevat
als 'doe iets dat ik wil, dan doe ik iets dat jij wilt'. Bij
dreigingsmacht wordt macht uitgeoefend door te
dreigen met één of andere vorm van straf (via boetes,
vergelding, bestraffing) en kan worden samengevat als
210
'doe iets dat ik wil, anders doe ik iets dat jij niet wilt.
Deze twee vormen van machtsuitoefening komen we in
het dagelijks leven tegen op allerlei niveaus en in bijna
ieder gebied van ons leven (onderwijs, opvoeding, in
relatie tot de overheid, in de economie etc.).
Integratieve macht echter is machtsuitoefening die
direct is verbonden met menselijke relaties, zowel
persoonlijke relaties als in de vorm van instituties en
organisaties. Liefde, respect, maar ook legitimiteit en
instemming zijn allemaal uitdrukkingsvormen van
integratieve macht. Hoewel het de vorm van
machtsuitoefening is die het minst begrepen wordt, ligt
deze vorm ten grondslag aan beide andere vormen.
Omdat ieder mens in een web van relaties bestaat en
ook
dreigingsen
uitwisselingsmacht
relaties
veronderstellen speelt integratieve macht in iedere
situatie een rol. Dit betekent ook dat zelfs groepen
waarvan op het eerste gezicht wordt veronderstelt dat
zij geen of weinig macht hebben (ze hebben
bijvoorbeeld niets in handen om mee te dreigen of niets
om mee te belonen) toch macht hebben in de vorm van
integratieve macht. Zij kunnen bijvoorbeeld hun
instemming met of deelname aan bepaalde structuren
stoppen of zelf nieuwe relaties en structuren creëren
die een alternatief bieden. Bij integratieve macht gaat
het er niet om de ander iets te laten doe, maar om zelf
iets anders te doen waardoor (als gevolg van de
relaties) dingen op een andere manier kunnen
verlopen. Zoals de analyse van Boulding ook laat zien,
is dit precies waar het bij geweldloosheid om gaat.
Wanneer we naar praktijken van geweldloosheid
kijken kunnen we die onderverdelen in twee
verschillende maar aan elkaar verbonden vormen; het
211
constructieve en het obstructieve programma. Het
obstructieve programma bestaat uit alle vormen van
protest en verzet tegen en niet meewerken aan geweld
en onrechtvaardigheid. Dit is de meest bekende en
zichtbare vorm van geweldloosheid.
De constructieve kant van geweldloosheid verwijst
naar de ontwikkeling van nieuwe structuren en
verbanden die de geweldloze realiteit waar men naar
streeft uitdrukken en ondersteunen. Tegelijkertijd
kunnen constructieve activiteiten zelf ook een vorm van
protest zijn wanneer ze bijvoorbeeld leiden tot
parallelle instituties die de werking van bestaande
(problematische) structuren omzeilen of tegenwerken.
In zekere zin is het constructieve programma een vorm
van structurele geweldloosheid.
Al het bovenstaande in acht genomen is mijn kort
samengevatte antwoord op de centrale vraag van dit
onderzoek: 'Wat is hedendaagse geweldloosheid?' als
volgt.
Hedendaagse geweldloosheid is een pro-actieve en
eigenstandige wijze van handelen waarvan de
universele
elementen
satya,
ahimsa,
tapasya,
swadeshi/swaraj en sarvodaya (zoals
hierboven
beschreven en verder uitgewerkt in dit boek) zijn.
Samen verwijzen deze elementen naar een specifieke
vorm van machtsuitoefening: integratieve macht.
Geweldloosheid heeft zowel een obstructieve als een
constructieve kant, die beide uitdrukkingen zijn van de
vijf genoemde elementen.
Geweldloosheid heeft zowel persoonlijke als sociale
implicaties en in dat licht kan geweldloosheid worden
gezien als een methode voor humanisering, geworteld
212
in zingevingsprocessen. Dit maakt het tot een
belangrijk onderwerp van studie voor de humanistiek.
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234
CURRICULUM VITAE
Saskia van Goelst Meijer (1976) finished her masters
degree in Humanistic Studies with a thesis on Gross
National Happiness, linking existential questions and
international development. During her studies she
worked, studied and travelled throughout the world,
developing her interest in investigating the interface
between questions of personal meaning and social
justice. She obtained her PhD, with a dissertation on
contemporary nonviolence, from the University of
Humanistic Studies, where she currently works as
Assistant Professor. Her research focus is on
'Existential Questions in a Global Society'. In addition
she is the proud owner of a small-scale organic farm in
the North-East of The Netherlands.
235
SAMENVATTING
vertaling: Leonie van der Werf
In dit proefschrift onderzuuk ik geweldloosheid tegen
de achtergrond van de humanistiek. Humanistiek is een
multidisciplinaire wetenschap die zingeving en
humanisering, de persoonlijke en sociale kanten van
‘goed leven’, kritisch onderzöcht en bestudeert. Vanuut
dizze academische achtergrond probeer ik de centrale
vraog van dit onderzuuk te beantwoorden: wat is de
hedendaagse geweldloosheid?
Ik gebruuk de term geweldloosheid hier niet
allennig om te verwiezen naor de afwezigheid van
geweld, bijveurbeeld bij het oplossen van conflicten of
problemen, maar veural ok om te verwiezen naor een
eigenstandige methode of zölfs een paradigma. Het
idee van geweldloosheid is trugge te vinden in elke
grote religieuze traditie en wordt al eeuwenlang in de
praktiek bracht, overal ter wereld. Toch is der in gien
enkele taol een algemiene term te vinden die het idee
van geweldloosheid as authentiek en proactief concept
uutdrukt. Het wordt allenig as een negatie benuumd.
Geweldloosheid is gien geweld. Maar, wat is het dan
wel?
Mensen die zich in de recente geschiedenis actief
met geweldloosheid bezigholden hebben, bennen ok
steeds tegen dit gebrek an adequate terminologie
anlopen. Dat hef ze der toe aanzet veur zichzölf uut te
zuken wat geweldloosheid precies inholdt. Op het
eerste gezicht wordt geweldloosheid vaak verstaon as
237
passiviteit, niet-inmenging, of zölfs lafheid. Om uut te
leggen dat dit absoluut niet was waor zij op doelden,
hebben dizze beoefenaars van geweldloosheid vaak hun
eigen termen bedacht die wel recht deden an de
proactieve aard van het concept. Gandhi bijveurbeeld,
bedacht de term satyagraha (vastholden an de
waorheid) veur zien methode om veur sociale
rechtvaardigheid te strieden. Op de Filipijnen wurd het
alay dangal (het aanbieden van waordigheid). Maar
dizze verschillende termen geven gien helder antwoord
op de vraog wat geweldloosheid is. Is de iene
uutdrukking dervan (satyagraha) echt hetzölfde as de
andere (alay dangal)?
Het doel van dizze studie is tweeledig. Ten eerste
om te zien of het mogelijk is hedendaagse
geweldloosheid te begriepen as een zölstandig en
proactief concept, lös van specifieke culturele,
religieuze of praktische contexten, en zo ja, hoe dat der
dan uut zul zien? Ten tweede om te zien of het vanuut
zo’n eigenstandig concept van geweldloosheid mogelijk
is een kader te ontwikkeln veur analyse en het
vormgeven van praktijken.
Het proefschrift bestiet uut vief afzonderlijke (maar
samenhangende)
artikels
en
een
overkoepelnd
hoofdstuk, waorin ik probeer dizze vraogen te
beantwoorden.
De Gandhiaanse opvatting van geweldloosheid is het
vertrekpunt van dit onderzuuk. Echter, hoewel
Gandhi’s wark een belangrieke basis vormt veur het
begriepen van hedendaagse geweldloosheid, hebben
der veul ontwikkelingen in het denken over en
praktiseren van geweldloosheid plaatsvunden náo
238
Gandhi. Om tot een goed begrip dervan te kommen is
het daorom belangriek om verder te kieken en te
bestuderen op wukke manier Gandhi’s concepten
bennen overneumen deur andern. Ik heb bekeken
wukke elementen trugge te vinden bennen in de
theorieën en praktijken van andern en hoe dizze
concepten zich daor verder ontwikkeld hebben en
bennen veranderd, en wat hetzölfde bleven is.
Hoewel ik het leven en wark van verschillende
denkers, doeners en groepen bestudeerd heb, richt
mien onderzuuk zich niet specifiek op iene dervan. Bij
de beschrieving van mien onderzuuksrissultaten
riffereer ik an verschillende individuen en bewegingen
as veurbeelden en om de elementen te verheldern en
uut te warken.
Het is daorbij dudelijk worden dat wanneer
geweldloosheid uutslutend wordt opvat in een
strategische zin, we de redeneringen en morele
overwegingen die veur veulen een fundamenteel
onderdeel bennen van geweldloosheid niet begriepen
kunnen. Ik vat geweldloosheid daorom in principiële zin
op en dit onderzuuk richt zich op de filosofische en
intentionele aspecten waorbinnen de strategieën
vormgeven worden.
Nao een analyse van de diverse beschrievingen van
geweldloosheid, concludeer ik dat vief basiselementen
de kern van hedendaagse geweldloosheid vormen:
satya (het zuken naor waorheid), ashima (niet schaden),
tapasya (het angaon van lieden), sarvodaya (streven
naor het welwezen van allen) en swadeshi/swaraj
(relationele autonomie). Dizze vief elementen samen,
wiezen in de richting van een specifieke vorm van
machtsuutoefening die het best anduud kan worden
239
met de term “integratieve macht” die is bedacht deur
Kenneth Boulding.
Elk van dizze elementen is een complex en gelaagd
begrip. Naor mien mening bennen dizze elementen
noodzakelijkerwies anwezig in elke uting van
geweldloosheid en allemaol even belangriek derveur. In
dit proefschrift tracht ik dizze vief elementen, wat ze
impliceren en wat hun rol in geweldloosheid is, te
deurgronden deur onder andere het wark van Vaclav
Havel, Haim Omer en René Girard te exploreren,
evenas de Radicale Ecologie en “endogenous
development”.
Ik duud dizze elementen an met de termen uut het
Sanskriet zoas die veurkommen in het wark van
Gandhi, omdat die naor mien mening geschikt bennen
om de complexiteit en samenhang van de elementen
goed uut te drukken. Gandhi gebruukte dizze (soms
eeuwen olde) termen al op een enigszins neie en
angepaste manier, vaak zonder hun oorspronkelijke
betekenis lös te laoten. As gevolg van de hedendaagse
geweldloze inspanningen en ervaringen die opdaon
bennen sinds de stried van Gandhi, hef hun betekenis
(in de context van geweldloosheid) zich nog verder
uutbreid. Dat wul echter niet zeggen dat dizze termen
daodwarkelijk in elke situatie gebruukt worden.
Desondanks is het mien these dat hoewel in
verschillende situaties verschillende uutdrukkings
gebruukt worden, ze steeds naor dizze vief elementen
verwiezen.
Het eerste element is satya, dat ‘waorheid’ betekent in
het Sanskriet. Zoas zegd is het wark van Gandhi mien
vertrekpunt. In Gandhi’s opvatting is waorheid zowel
240
universeel as specifiek of relatief. Hij is dervan
overtuugd dat der ien universele waorheid of realiteit
bestiet, maar dat mensen die allennig ten dele kennen
kunnen en begriepen. Bovendien is in zien opvatting de
realiteit meervoldig. Gandhi wul dat mensen elke
situatie onderzuken en bevraogen om te ontdekken wat
daorin belangriek is veur elk die berbij betrökken is. Op
die manier kunnen mensen tot een groter inzicht in de
waorheid kommen. Hoewel hij vindt dat mensen
moeten streven naor een zo volledig mogelijk inzicht in
elke situatie, kan gieniene zeggen dat hij of zij
alwetend is. In het Gandhiaanse denken is waorheid
grond in de ervaring. We kunnen iets as waor ervaren,
maar iene anders kan tot een tegenovergestelde
conclusie kommen op basis van zien of heur eigen
(hiele andere) ervarings. In het geval van onienigheid
kan het zo weden dat de andere partij meer zöt van de
waorheid as wij, ok al bennen wij der van overtuugd dat
we geliek hebben. Dat wul niet zeggen dat we onze
ideeën over de waorheid opgeven moeten, het wul
zeggen dat we de mogelijkheid veur het bestaon van
beide waorheden openholden moeten. Dat zul satya een
utermate relativistisch begrip maken, ware het niet dat
elke ervaring nog steeds universele weerde hef, alle
ervarings bennen echt. De ervaring van ien specifieke
waorheid kan niet leiden tot een regel die iederiene
moet volgen (dat zul de echtheid van andere ervarings
ontkennen), maar wel tot een regel veur onszölf. Satya
impliceert dus dat we toewijd bennen an de waorheid
zoas wij die ervaren.
Hoewel hij het woord niet gebruukt stiet dit element
ok centraal in het wark van Václav Havel, en in dit
onderzuuk wend ik me tot zien ideeën om het begrip
241
satya verder uut te warken. Havel lat zien dat satya
vrag dat we de wereld beschouwen as een arena waor
verschillende waorheden mekaar ontmoeten en op
mekaar inwarken, iets wat hij benuumt as ‘de logica
van verhalen’. Zowel Gandhi as Havel benaodrukken
dat het persoonlijke en het politieke, de individuele en
de publieke zuuktocht naor waorheid nauw met mekaar
bennen verweven. De persoonlijke zuuktocht naor joen
identiteit en joen eigen waorheid is veural een privé
angelegenheid, maar het handeln vanuut joen waorheid
is een publieke daod en hef gevolgen in en veur je
sociale omgeving. De confrontatie met andere
‘waorheden’ bödt een gelegenheid om tot diepere en
meer complexe inzichten te kommen. Het opleggen van
ien waorheid die veur iederiene zul moeten gelden is
daorentegen dehumaniserend en gewelddadig omdat zij
de mogelijkheid van andere ervarings ontkent. Daorom
is het neudig dat wij onze eigen waorheid uutdragen,
zodat andern daormet confronteerd kunnen worden.
Havel lat zien dat dit nog niet zo simpel is. We stellen
onze eigen inzichten dermet ter discussie, stellen
onszölf bloot an kritiek en in situaties waorin veural ien
specifieke versie van de waorheid wenst is,
bijveurbeeld in een dictatuur, kan dit grote gevolgen
hebben. Maar het handeln vanuut joen eigen waorheid
kan daormet ok een vorm van verzet en van sociale
verandering weden. Je tonen dermet in de praktijk an
dat de opgelegde waorheid niet de ienige is en helpt
daormet ruumte te scheppen veur de waorheid van
andern. De rol van satya in geweldloosheid is dus niet
allennig die van een morele opdracht om in waorheid te
leven, maar ok een oproep tot handeln, tot het
242
realiseren
van
een
sociale
warkelijkheid
die
geweldlozer is.
Ahimsa, het tweede element betekent letterlijk ‘de
afwezigheid van de intentie schade toe de brengen’.
Het impliceert geweldloosheid op het fysieke niveau,
maar ok in woorden, gedrag en zölfs gedachten.
Geleidelijk an hef ahimsa naost de ‘negatieve’ betekenis
(het vermijden van schade) ok een ‘positieve’ betekenis
kregen, die van het anpakken van situaties waorin
schade wordt toebracht, bijveurbeeld via sociale
dienstverlening. Wanneer we confronteerd worden met
omstandigheden
waorin
ons
of
andern
onrechtvaardigheid andaon wordt en we niet proberen
iets an die situatie te verandern, bennen we vanuut het
gezichtspunt van geweldloosheid tot op zekere hoogte
medeplichtig. Handeln zonder de intentie schade toe te
brengen betekent dus het anpakken van problemen,
veur zover dat in ons vermogen lig.
Binnen het denken over geweldloosheid wordt dit
element in de eerste plaats (maar niet uutslutend) op
een sociale manier opvat. Echter, in de context van de
Radicale Ecologie wordt een soortgelieke holding
ontwikkeld maar dan in relatie tot de natuurlijke
omgeving. De Radicale Ecologie is een denkstroming
die zöcht naor hoe een fundamentele transformatie van
‘het mens-weden in de wereld’ tot stand bracht kan
worden, die dertoe kan leiden dat zowel menselijke as
niet-menselijke wezens in gelieke mate kunnen
floreren. In dit proefschrift heb ik het begrip ahimsa
vergeleken met dizze specifieke manier van ‘zich
verholden tot de ander’ die de Radicale Ecologie
veurstelt. In de Radicale Ecologie giet het niet zozeer
om een verschoeving in de verholding tot een ander as
243
tegenstander (hoewel de natuur soms wel zo wordt
afschilderd) maar tot een andere die een andere
levensvorm is. Desondanks hef de ander in beide
gevallen een verschillende visie op het leven en hef
hiele andere dingen neudig om te kunnen floreren.
Hoewel de term ahimsa in de Radicale Ecologie
nauwelijks wordt gebruukt is de holdingsverschoeving
die naostreefd wordt gelieksoortig. Dizze komp neer op
het warkelijk kunnen bevestigen van de ander, (in al
zien anders-weden).
Ahmisa verwes naor het besef dat de leven van allen
met mekaar verbonden bennen en dat het schaden van
de iene uuteindelijk neerkomp op het schaden van
iederiene. Het standpunt dat specifieke groepen
mensen, of de mensheid as geheel, op wat veur grond
dan ok superieur zulden weden an andere groepen en
daorom recht zulden hebben op meer middeln veur of
kansen op zölfontwikkeling is schadlijk. Ahimsa
vertegenwoordigt een holding ten opzichte van andern
waorin we der naor streven hun kansen op leven, hun
waordigheid en hun mogelijkheden tot zölfontwikkeling
niet te schaden en zölfs proberen hun welwezen en
ontwikkeling te bevordern. Zölfs ten opzichte van
tegenstanders en ok terwijl we ons tegen heur
verzetten. Het cultiveren van zo’n holding is niet
ienvoldig zoas bijveurbeeld Gandhi, Martin Luther King
en ok de Radicaal Ecologen zien laoten. Maar binnen
geweldloosheid is het de ienige manier waorop der
warkelijke veranderingen tot stand bracht kunnen
worden.
Van de vief elementen is tapasya meestal het
moeilijkst te bevatten, met name vanuut een westers
perspectief. Tapasya kan vertaald worden zowel met
244
‘hitte’ as met ‘lieden’ en het speult op drie manieren
een rol in geweldloosheid. As eerste verwes het naor de
bereidheid om het lieden an te gaon, in plaats van te
kiezen
veur
vergelding
wanneer
we
worden
confronteerd met geweld of onrechtvaardigheid. Dit
deurbrek de geweldsspiraal. Tapasya wul niet zeggen
dat we moeten toegeven an geweld of het liedzaam
moeten ondergaon. Het wul zeggen dat we bewust uut
de gebrukelijke dynamiek van ‘vluchten, vechten of
bevriezen’ stappen. De tweede rol van tapasya is
daorom die van zölf-transformatie. Een veurbeeld is de
innerlijke worsteling om over aversie tegen een
tegenstander hen te kommen. As derde verwes tapasya
naor toewijding en discipline. De beoefening van satya
en ahimsa bijveurbeeld vereist training, geduld en de
bereidheid om tegenstand en kritiek te ontvangen.
In dit onderzuuk heb ik de notie van tapasya
vergeleken met het wark van de filosoof René Girard.
Een centraal thema in het wark van Girard is dat van
‘het offer’ dat hij verbindt an geweld. Echter, mensen
as Gandhi en Martin Luther King hebben het ok vaak
over het brengen van offers, maar juust in de context
van geweldloosheid. Het offer dat Girard beschref is
dat van een zondebok, die opofferd en uutdreven wordt
om de cohesie van de oorspronkelijke groep te
waarborgen. Elke vorm van geweld is een afspiegeling
van
dit
mechanisme,
stelt
Girard.
Binnen
geweldloosheid speult een ander offer een rol, daor giet
het der om de gerichtheid op het eigene op te offern,
zodat der ruumte ontstiet veur diversiteit en het
welwezen van iederiene ontplooid worden kan.
Girard stelt dat wanneer mensen de dynamiek van
de zondebok en het offern dervan zulden deurzien, zij
245
in staot zulden wezen een andere keuze te maken en de
samenleving, waor volgens hum geweld nou een
fundamentele rol in speult, anders zulden kunnen
vormgeven. Hoewel hij zölf sceptisch blef over de reële
mogelijkheid om dit tot stand te brengen stelt hij dat
dat in elk geval zul betekenen dat mensen elke impuls
tot vergelding en wraak zulden moeten opgeven.
Binnen het denken over geweldloosheid stiet men daor
minder
sceptisch
tegenover
en
verschillende
veurbeelden uut de praktijk laoten zien dat mensen
daorin een hiel eind kommen kunnen, hoewel dit veul
muite kost. Tapasya is het element in geweldloosheid
dat dat uutdrukt.
Het vierde element is swadeshi/swaraj. Swadeshi
betekent zölfstandigheid. In politieke zin verwes
swadeshi naor economische zölfstandigheid en het
hebben van eigen instituties. Op het persoonlijke
niveau betekent het zo zölfveurzienend mogelijk te
weden, en onafhankelijk en doelmatig kunnen weden.
Het verwies tok naor het kunnen creëren van
omstandigheden die zölfstandigheid mogelijk maken.
Swaraj betekent zölfbestuur. Dit kan verwiezen naor
politieke autonomie, maar ok naor autonomie op het
persoonlijke vlak. Swadeshi en swaraj hangen nauw
samen en bennen in dit onderzuuk dan ok
samenneumen. Tegeliekertied bennen ze ok verbonden
met de andere elementen van geweldloosheid.
Swadeshi/swaraj
verwes
bijveurbeeld
naor
het
vermogen impulsen, gewoonten of dwang van andern te
kunnen weerstaon (tapasya), het kunnen maken van
eigen keuzes baseerd op de waorheid zoas jij die
ervaren (satya), waorbij je zicht holden op het
welwezen van elk die derbij betrökken is (sarvodaya)
246
zonder de autonomie van andern an te tasten (ahimsa).
Swadeshi/swaraj drukt daormet een relationeel concept
van autonomie uut. De relationele opvatting van
autonomie giet dervan uut dat autonomie allennig
gestalte kreg in relatie tot de autonomie van andern.
Om dit element verder uut te warken bestudeer ik
in dit proefschrift een specifieke praktijk; een methode
veur het omgaon met gewelddadige en/of zölfdestructieve kindern die ontwikkeld is deur de
Israëlische psycholoog Haim Omer. De methode van
Omer richt zich in belangrieke mate op de
empowerment van olders en opvoeders en op het
creëren van omstandigheden waorin olders en kindern
niet meer metzeugen worden in mekaars reacties. Pas
dan kunnen zij met de problematische situatie an de
slag gaon op een manier die het probleem warkelijk
anpakt en waordeur het gezin as geheel beter kan
functioneren. Zeker in gezinsverband stiet het belang
van de relaties, maar ok het daorbinnen zölfstandig
kunnen functioneren centraal. Swadeshi/swaraj verwes
juust naor die dynamiek.
Het viefde element tenslotte, is sarvodaya, oftewel
‘het welwezen van iederiene’. In specifieke situaties
verwes dit naor het welwezen van elk die derbij
betrökken is in de situatie. Wanneer we deur middel
van geweldloosheid een conflict of een vorm van
onrecht an wullen pakken, wul dat zeggen dat we
proberen het probleem an te pakken, zonder daorbij ok
het welwezen van de ‘daoder’ of tegenstander uut het
oog te verliezen. Omdat geweldloosheid uutgiet van een
relationeel mensbeeld kan het welwezen van iederiene
niet waarborgd worden as het verzet tegen
onrechtvaardigheid zölf ok schade veroorzaakt. Een
247
eigentiedse praktijk die de prangende aspecten van dit
element goed weergef is herstelrecht. Herstelrecht
verwes naor ene hiel scala van methoden om om te
gaon met criminaliteit en met daoders en slachtoffers
van misdrieven op een manier die niet in de eerste
plaats richt is op vergelding. Hierbij wordt zöcht naor
manieren om, veur zover dat mogelijk is, de schade te
herstellen en/of een weg te vinden waorop zowel
daoder as slachtoffer op een zo goed mogelijke manier
verder kunnen met heur leven.
Dizze vief elementen bennen een coherent en
dynamisch
geheel
en
vormen
gezamenlijk
geweldloosheid. In geweldloosheid zoas dat in dit
onderzuuk opvat is moeten alle vief elementen anwezig
weden omdat ze mekaar anvullen en ondersteunen. Zul
ien van de vief elementen ontbreken dan kan der niet
warkelijk van geweldloosheid sprake weden. De vief
elementen samen vormen een analyse-instrument en ok
een uutgangspunt veur het formuleren van praktijken.
Geweldloosheid op dizze viefvoldige manier opvat,
impliceert een specifieke vorm van omgaon met en
uutoefenen van macht. Dizze specifieke vorm duud ik
hier an met de term integratieve macht.
Volgens Kenneth Boulding is van de drie
mogelijke vormen van machtsuutoefening integratieve
macht de belangriekste in vergelieking met de andere
twee: dreigingsmacht en uutwisselingsmacht. Dizze
twee laatste vormen worden vaak kort anduud met ‘de
wortel en de stok’. Uutwisselingsmacht is elk geval van
machtsuutoefening waorbij sprake is van ien of andere
vorm van beloning en kan samenvat worden as ‘doe iets
dat ik wul, dan doe ik iets dat jij wullen’. Bij
248
dreigingsmacht wordt macht uutoefend deur te dreigen
met ien of andere vorm van straf (via boetes,
vergelding, bestraffing) en kan samenvat worden as
‘doe iets dat ik wul, anders doe ik iets dat jij niet
wullen.
Dizze twee vormen van machtsuutoefening
kommen we in het dagelijks leven tegen op allerlei
niveaus en in bijna elk gebied van ons leven
(onderwies, opvoeding, in relatie tot de overheid, in de
economie
etc.)
Integratieve
macht
echter
is
machtsuutoefening die direct is verbonden met
menselijke relaties, zowel persoonlijke relaties as in de
vorm van instituties en organisaties. Liefde, respect,
maar ok legitimiteit en instemming bennen allemaal
uutdrukkingsvormen van integratieve macht. Hoewel
het de vorm van machtsuutoefening is die het minst
wordt begrepen, lig dizze vorm ten grondslag an beide
andere vormen.
Omdat elk mens in een web van relaties bestiet
en ok dreigings- en uutwisselingsmacht relaties
veronderstellen speult integratieve macht in elke
situatie een rol. Dit betekent ok dat zölfs groepen
waorvan op het eerste gezicht verondersteld wordt dat
zij gien of weinig macht hebben (ze hebben
bijveurbeeld niks in handen om met te dreigen of niks
om met te belonen) toch macht hebben in de vorm van
integratieve macht. Zij kunnen bijveurbeeld hun
instemming met of deelname an bepaalde stucturen
stoppen of zölf neie relaties en structuren creëren die
een alternatief bieden. Bij integratieve macht giet het
der niet om de ander iets te laoten doen, maar om zölf
iets anders te doen waordeur (as gevolg van relaties)
dingen op een andere manier kunnen verlopen. Zoas de
249
analyse van Boulding ok zien lat, is dit precies waor het
bij geweldloosheid om giet.
Wanneer we naor praktijken van geweldloosheid
kieken kunnen we die onderverdelen in twee
verschillende maar an mekaar verbonden vormen; het
constructieve en het obstructieve programma. Het
obstructieve programma bestiet uut alle vormen van
protest en verzet tegen, en niet metwarken an geweld
en onrechtvaardigheid. Dit is de meest bekende en
zichtbare vorm van geweldloosheid.
De constructieve kaante van geweldloosheid
verwes naor de ontwikkeling van neie structuren en
verbanden die de geweldloze realiteit waor men naor
streeft uutdrukken en ondersteunen. Tegeliekertied
kunnen constructieve activiteiten zölf ok een vorm van
protest weden wanneer ze bijveurbeeld leiden tot
parallelle instituties die de warking van bestaonde
(problematische) structuren omzeilen of tegenwarken.
In zekere zin is het constructieve programma een vorm
van structurele geweldloosheid.
Al het bovenstaonde in acht neumen is mien kort
samengevatte antwoord op de centrale vraog van dit
onderzuuk: 'Wat is hedendaagse geweldloosheid?' als
volgt.
Hedendaagse geweldloosheid is een pro-actieve
en eigenstandige wieze van handeln waorvan de
universele
elementen
satya,
ahimsa,
tapasya,
swadshi/swaraj
en
sarvodaya
(zoas
hierboven
beschreven en verder uutwarkt in dit boek) bennen.
Samen verwiezen dizze elementen naor een specifieke
vorm van machtsuutoefening: integratieve macht.
Geweldloosheid hef zowel een obstructieve as
250
constructieve kaante, die beide uutdrukkings bennen
van de vief genuumde elementen
Geweldloosheid hef zowel persoonlijke as sociale
implicaties en in dat licht kan geweldloosheid zien
worden as een methode veur humanisering, worteld in
zingevingsprocessen. Dit maakt het tot een belangriek
onderwerp van studie veur de humanistiek.
251