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John Roedel

Vulnerability Not Tolerance: How Nonviolence Works

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Have been awake since 2 a.m. God's grace alone is sustaining me. I can see there is some grave defect in me somewhere which is the cause of all this. All round me is utter darkness.

                                                                       --M.K. Gandhi, diary entry, dated January 2, 1947.[1]

            During the last few years of Gandhi's life, violent rioting verging on civil war tore India apart, despite his best efforts to calm the situation and despite repeated, widespread, politically successful nonviolent actions by large segments of the Indian populace in the previous decades. There have been many analyses of the violent birth of the Indian nation, but none that I know of have taken seriously Gandhi's intuitions of his own responsibility. At most, these intuitions have been taken as further evidence of the Mahatma's profound humility.

            In this paper, I will suggest that the Hindu-Muslim rioting around the time of Indian independence, and indeed, the violence that characterized the implosion of the American Civil Rights Movement in the late 1960’s, do indeed have their origin with Gandhi and other theorist-practitioners of the practice of mass nonviolence, not as a moral failure of some sort but as a failure to recognize how the practice of mass nonviolence inevitably leads to violent scapegoating. More constructively, I will also suggest how this scapegoating might be minimized, employing a distinction between what I will call sacrificial and non-sacrificial nonviolence, modeled on Girard’s distinction between sacrificial and non-sacrificial Christianity in Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World and elsewhere. I will base this distinction on the common distinction, first advanced by Gandhi, between "nonviolence of the weak," or strategic nonviolence, and "nonviolence of the strong," or principled nonviolence. Finally, by means of these distinctions, I will explore Walter Wink's conception of nonviolence as the current "state of the art" of the intersection between nonviolence and mimetic theory.

            Nonviolence as I use the term in this paper refers exclusively to practice: a refusal to submit to or inflict violence, whether physical, verbal, or symbolic. The nature of this practice of nonviolence is clearest in a face-to-face encounter with violence, such as the many encounters that Gandhi was involved in and which the Richard Attenborough film dramatized so well. But the practice of nonviolence is not just possible in dramatic, life-and-death situations; it is also possible in very subtle interpersonal encounters, in any of the arenas in which violence is present.

            I feel that a better understanding of nonviolence is important because of the potential of nonviolence to catalyze dramatic social change with relatively little loss of life and often even with the reconciliation of formerly bitter enemies. I argue that in its non-sacrificial form, nonviolence can allow for the conversion of negative to positive mimesis, and a resolution of conflicts not in the arena of power, but in the arena of human value.

            No one has done more than Walter Wink in bringing the resources of mimetic theory to bear on the study of nonviolence, especially on the violence with which nonviolence can be faced. But unfortunately, Wink is characteristic of theorists of nonviolence in viewing nonviolence as basically unproblematic per se; from such a perspective, the only problem is how to marshal greater resources behind the nonviolence on which it is assumed everyone agrees. I share the goal of seeking to foster the practice of nonviolence more widely, but only a nonviolence that does not lead to scapegoating. I feel that the way to this goal is not through an emphasis on the goodness or moral strength of individuals, as is most common, but through a more realistic appraisal of human capacities for violence and nonviolence, and a better understanding of the mechanisms for transforming the one into the other.

Wink, like Girard and many others, begins with Jesus in his attempt to define nonviolence. The basic text for this attempt is Matthew 5:39a, usually translated as "resist not evil." According to Wink, a better translation is "don't react violently against the one who is evil."[2] For Wink, a person who is able to refuse to submit to evil, but also does not run away or fight back violently, is able to "break the spiral of violence" by "absorbing the impact [of the violence] in their own flesh."[3] Such a person "must be willing to suffer and be killed,"[4] and must undergo "spiritual work" to arrive at this state.[5] For Wink, such nonviolence does not rule out coercion, just physical harm to the adversary.[6]

As an example, Wink offers his reading of some of the fundamental texts of Christian nonviolence: Jesus' teachings in Matthew 5:38-41, on "turning the other cheek," "giving one's cloak to whoever who takes one's coat," and "going the second mile." Often these passages are misread as suggesting passivity or acquiescence in the face of evil. However, in Wink's reading, these passages advocate a kind of moral aikido, an attempt at keeping the opponent off-balance and exposing the injustice of the situation.

For example, consider the teaching, "giving one's cloak to whoever who takes one's coat." The context for this teaching, according to Wink, is that Jesus' listeners would know that a poor debtor might be required to surrender his coat during the day as collateral until a loan was paid off (though he would get it back each night to sleep in). Wink sees Jesus as offering a paradigm of nonviolence in this teaching, suggesting that by surrendering his cloak, in addition to his coat, and standing naked before everyone, the poor debtor would shame the creditor and expose the inherent injustice of a degrading system.[7] Wink amplifies his reading through a similar story from South Africa under Apartheid. In that story, police attempted to demolish a squatters' camp. The police gave the women who lived there only five minutes to vacate. The women stripped naked before the bulldozers, and the police fled.[8]

            I gather from a review in the COV&R Bulletin by James Williams that Wink dramatized his readings of these teachings of Jesus' at last year's COV&R conference in Ottawa. Everyone was fully clothed in the accompanying photo. Commenting on the skits, Williams suggests that the nonviolence demonstrated was "arguably a form of rivalry, a way of getting 'one up' on the opponent." Girard was present for the skits, but did not speak to them directly. However, he did emphasize that "his work was a quest for truth, and that quest could not be drawn into specific stratagems and modes of behavior."[9] A comment of his in Things Hidden perhaps expands on this concern: "What is important above all is to realize that there are no recipes; there is no pharmakon any more, not even a Marxist or psychoanalytic one. Recipes are not what we need. . . ."[10]

            I agree with Williams's sentiment in his review that "the quest for finding and knowing the truth cannot be simply separated from doing the truth."[11] But what possibilities might there be for "doing truth" as the practice of nonviolence, that involve as few recipes and scapegoats as possible? Girard has used the word "non-violence" many times throughout his writings, but never in reference to the practice of nonviolence. The model for such a practice in a Girardian framework, if it can exist at all, is the complete lack of violence in Jesus, in Jesus' Father and in the Kingdom that Jesus reveals. For Girard, Jesus' nonviolent attitude is "unconditional, and, if necessary, unilateral," in imitation of the Father who "makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good" (Matthew 5:45).[12]  

            My term non-sacrificial nonviolence refers to a practice approaching the limit of Jesus's nonviolence. Such a practice is also close to what Gandhi referred to as pure “nonviolence of the strong,” in contrast to “nonviolence of the weak.” Gandhi spoke of  nonviolence of the strong as a refusal to submit to or inflict violence out of unselfish love for the opponent. He spoke of nonviolence of the weak as a tactic for achieving one's goals; in his opinion, this was not “really” nonviolence at all, just a simulacrum of it. When Gandhi spoke of his responsibility for the Hindu-Muslim riots, he spoke of the presence in himself of nonviolence of the weak. Within this framework, as Gandhi's internal struggle makes clear, even an individual offering nonviolence may be unable to recognize the extent to which his nonviolence is selfish or unselfish, nonviolence of the weak or nonviolence of the strong.

To distinguish the two, according to Gandhi, it is necessary to explore the motivations and formation of the nonviolent practitioner in question. According to Gandhi, nonviolence of the strong arises out of one's "relationship to God" and a "deep sense of the interconnectedness of all beings." Gandhi believed that in defense of truth, or in defense of the honor of oneself or another, a truly [principled] nonviolent man or woman "will and should die without retaliation, anger or malice."[13] Gandhi also viewed nonviolence of the strong as necessarily arising out of a larger ethic, requiring that one "observe perfect chastity, adopt poverty, follow truth, and cultivate fearlessness."[14] Gandhi admitted that nonviolence of the strong is a lofty ideal, approached but never attained.

My own distinction between sacrificial and non-sacrificial nonviolence builds upon Gandhi’s distinction, but I believe sheds new light both on the pitfalls and possibilities of the practice of nonviolence by showing how it might fit in with mimetic theory. There are, I believe, many fruitful analogies between sacrificial and non-sacrificial Christianity, and sacrificial and non-sacrificial nonviolence. Given the degree to which historical Christianity has crystallized our contemporary sensitivities to the victim, and the strong historical ties between Christianity and nonviolence (even via Gandhi), the formal analogy between nonviolence and Christianity is no doubt more than coincidental. And just as Girard has argued that sacrificial Christianity has both distorted and carried the more authentic non-sacrificial Christianity, I would argue that the practice of sacrificial nonviolence can be viewed as responsible for distortions in the practice of nonviolence, but also for its spread as a practice around the globe.

As Girard describes it, sacrificial Christianity begins with the perspective that Christ’s crucifixion is a sacrifice similar to the sacrifices in many other historical religions. In the most familiar manifestation of sacrificial Christianity, the sacrifice has a purpose: to appease the wrath of the Father. In this conception, the Crucifixion is a fait accompli, the result of a secret plan arranged between Jesus and the Father.[15]

In contrast, in the non-sacrificial reading of the crucifixion, it is Jesus' own nonviolence that ultimately leads to his crucifixion: his teachings about the nature of violence, corrosive as they were of the social order, and his uncompromising practice of nonviolence. In this way Jesus has perhaps “achieved the goal set for all mankind,”[16] but this goal is not his death, not the fulfillment of some plan. Rather, the goal is obedience to the Father, no matter the consequences. Jesus did not fight back violently against the violence he was faced with, and did not flee. "Rather than become the slave of violence, as our own word necessarily does, the Word of God says no to violence."[17] Death by crucifixion was the only way that Jesus could remain true to what he had lived and taught.

            Through the crucifixion, Jesus did not become yet another example of a victim sacrificed to restore harmony to the community. Because of the awakening of Jesus' disciples, marked by their experience of Jesus risen and the descent of the Holy Spirit, the disciples were able to transmit the experience of Jesus' innocence, their betrayal of him and their conversion to the truth of what had happened. The inferred realization of the innocence of all sacrificial victims began the slow but inexorable dismantling of the sacrificial system.

However, the power of this revelation has been muted by misrecognition, the necessary concomitant for scapegoating to preserve its conciliatory effects. Misrecognition is an all-encompassing system of interlocking failures to recognize that even our love (and nonviolence) depend upon violence. Girard often refers to this all-encompassing system of misrecognition as the ”City of Man” to emphasize the gulf between it and the Kingdom of God. This misrecognition of the truth of the crucifixion has resulted in what Girard terms the sacrificial reading of Christianity, in which Jesus was killed not in fidelity to the God of nonviolence, but to appease the violent wrath of the Father.

A sacrificial nonviolence depends on a goal, a plan to change the violent other: to convert the other from violence, or perhaps to achieve a political goal. In this nonviolence the one offering nonviolence is a sacrifice, with all of the dependence on mana, or sacred power, that sacrifices rely. In contrast, in non-sacrificial nonviolence, there is no goal for the conversion of the other. There is no attachment to the outcome of whether the other changes or not. The only goal is faithful imitation of the God of nonviolence, referred in some contexts as discipleship.

Misrecognition is responsible for the general failure to articulate a consistently non-sacrificial practice of nonviolence. This is true even in Walter Wink, who is able to articulate so well the sacrificial nature of violence that nonviolence must face, but is seemingly unaware of the sacrificial potential of nonviolence. Wink, like Gandhi, recommends spiritual formation such as prayer, meditation and "inner healing" for those wishing to practice nonviolence.[18] Furthermore, he emphasizes that nonviolence is not "merely a technique for outwitting the enemy," but a "just means of opposing the enemy in a way that holds open the possibility of the enemy's becoming just also."[19] At the same time, he admits that the type of nonviolence he advocates can be coercive, as is seen in his exegesis of Jesus' three teachings highlighted above. He allows that "in most of the nonviolent struggles of our time, people have resorted to nonviolence for the simple reason that their government held a monopoly on weapons. Nonviolence was the only road open."[20] This is no doubt also true of most instances of the practice of nonviolence.

It seems clear that insofar as nonviolence is “of the weak” it will lead to scapegoating, as it is almost by definition strategy, a recipe. All examples of mass nonviolence seem to have an element of nonviolence of the weak, if only because in a mass of nonviolence practitioners people will be at different levels. For instance, many of Gandhi's followers tried and failed at the difficult training he prescribed, while many others who claimed to be practicing nonviolence did not even attempt what Gandhi suggested. This was true even of many of Gandhi's closest allies in the struggle for Indian independence, who saw nonviolence chiefly in strategic terms and were not interested in the deeper spiritual preparation Gandhi advocated.

            Yet even with "nonviolence of the strong" there can be recipes, even if the goal is simply, as Wink puts it, "to seek the transformation of the other through love."[21] It seems that even a goal of ending violence reinscribes it that violence. And misrecognition ensures that even if a given act of nonviolence is non-sacrificial, it will likely be described in sacrificial terms, even by the nonviolent practitioner him- or herself. The terms of sacrifice are the only way that nonviolence makes sense to most people within the worldview of the Kingdom of Man. Furthermore, even in nonviolence of the strong, violence is often spoken of as something independent of humanity, a force that must be resisted, absorbed, metabolized. Almost without exception, the importance of self-sacrifice by practitioners of nonviolence is stressed. The misrecognized goal of such a stance may be self-divinization, as Girard warns.[22]

It is especially difficult to understand nonviolence and move toward a non-sacrificial nonviolence because sacrificial nonviolence does indeed bring about a reconciliation among parties in conflict, however temporary, as Gandhi's assassination created a temporary peace between Hindus and Muslims. The cost of this temporary peace, although misrecognized, can be very high. Within a sacrificial practice of nonviolence, the mana of the nonviolent leader-king becomes essential to maintain the cohesion of the group. Without it, and especially without an external opponent to unify against, the disciples of the nonviolent leader converge in rivalry and conflict. The resulting conflict is perhaps all the more pernicious insofar as it is driven underground by enforcement of the ethic of nonviolence. Many people who have spent time in peace movements have experience of this uncanny, bitter conflict. [Who has experience of this?--show of hands]

            Only with a conversion of the type Girard describes in Things Hidden and elsewhere can there be an exit from the City of Man and the possibility of a worldview that can articulate a non-sacrificial nonviolence. Girard asserts, "conversion is resurrection." [23] It is a complete transformation of the personality beginning with an awakening to the truth of desire and violence. It is perhaps in preparation of the ground for conversion that Gandhi, Wink and many others suggest a variety of spiritual disciplines and practices. And it may be that even sacrificial nonviolence, perhaps even nonviolence of the weak, can lead an individual down the path towards conversion that is the basis for non-sacrificial nonviolence. Such a conversion could even begin in the midst of a nonviolent encounter. For one falsely convinced that he has achieved the ideal of nonviolence, the stress of an encounter with a violent other can reveal how shallow his nonviolence really is, how much hatred and desire for revenge is still present. By realizing his complicity with violence, he begins to become vulnerable to the other. Here is where sacrificial nonviolence parts company from the liberal regime of tolerance, human rights, and an emphasis on the essential goodness of the other. Instead, what allows true nonviolence is a profound emptying, begun with awareness of complicity in the violence that engulfs us all, and the common need for conversion. The invitation to enter the Kingdom of God that nonviolence offers is always already present, but in the nonviolent encounter with violence it is perhaps more clear. The one offering nonviolence is risking pain and death, for what? In the City of Man, where words are cheap and fear, pain and death are the gold standard, Christ's crucifixion and every other act of non-sacrificial nonviolence freely give the price of passage from the Kingdom of Man to Kingdom of God in the only acceptable currency. Realization of the innocence of the one offering nonviolence is also an opportunity for conversion.

            Gandhi frequently compared means and ends with seeds and trees, suggesting that we cannot, for instance, employ violence to achieve peace or nonviolence. Within this image one means is not better than another; it is simply suggests, for example, that violent means have a cost in violence that we perhaps could not bear if we did not misrecognize it. It is easy to dismiss the analogy between means and ends and seeds and trees as mystical, but the cycle of vegetation was mystical as well until its mechanisms were understood.

            The beginning of the understanding of the cycle of vegetation allowed the emergence of agriculture. Perhaps the understanding of the cycles of violence and nonviolence can allow the emergence of a new culture of peace.

WORKS CITED

Gandhi, M. K. Gandhi on Non-Violence. Edited by Thomas Merton. New York: New Directions, 1965.

_______ . Hind Swaraj, or Indian Home Rule, rev. new ed. Ahmedabad: Navajivan Trust, 1996.

Girard, René. The Girard Reader. Edited by James G. Williams. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1996.

_______ . Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World. Translated by Stephen Bann (Books II & III) and Michael Metteer (Book I). Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1987.

Williams, James G. Review of Covenant of Peace: The Missing Peace in New Testament Theology and Ethics, by Williard M. Swartley. Bulletin of the Colloquium on Violence and Religion 29 (October 2006): 18-20.