Chasing Gandhi: Understanding the Difference Between Nonviolence and Pacifism.

I have a confession to make. I am far better at talking the talk than I am walking the walk. I have always admired the tremendous courage men like Gandhi and Martin Luther King exhibited in their public and personal lives, while sadly admitting that I could never hold a candle to them. I cannot even imagine what Christ’s final moments on this earth must’ve been like. To come to this stage of one’s life and realize that you are as far removed from your personal heroes as the moon is from the earth is a sobering reality.

Worse, while I have a deep and profound respect for what those men stood for, I also have to confess that I feel more of an affinity for those individuals who more often than not flexed their muscles in response to oppression. Whenever I have seen an injustice – regardless of what it is – my first response has not been to pray for the perpetrator, but rather to lash out at the transgressor and fight for the victim. I feel an almost reflexive need to come to the aid of such people and a strong, intense hatred for those who caused the malady. Out of all the sins of the world, cruelty to those who cannot fend for themselves and poverty anger me the most.

My writings have often reflected this deep sentiment and I have always felt a peculiar and profound calling to continue to bring to light any inequities that scar the Kingdom of God. So-called believers who besmirch the very faith I hold near and dear have earned the bulk of my wrath. In this endeavor I have been unapologetic to say the least.

But of late I have listened and read, with great interest, the words of King and Gandhi in the writings of other Christian men and I feel a sense of bewilderment. It is clear that both King and Gandhi were proponents of nonviolence in their lives. It is equally clear that both were profound men of peace who represented the very best principles of what it means to be a Christian. As such, they have earned the status accorded them.

But I sometimes wonder whether both men may have been as misunderstood as they were admired. There has been a long tradition of nonviolent movements throughout history. The Great Samil Movement of 1919 during Japanese colonial rule was one of the largest nonviolent demonstrations in the twentieth century and resulted in over 7,000 martyrdoms. And of course the most obvious example of nonviolence was the life and ministry of Jesus. But the biggest problem I have with nonviolence is not its resistance to violence but its connection to pacifism. Over the years the two words have somehow become synonymous with symbolizing an almost pathological resistance to any form of aggression whatsoever. At first glance both terms seem somewhat similar in scope, and in deed both share some qualities. But a closer look reveals a staggering distinction. See for yourself.

Pacifism: The belief that disputes between nations should and can be settled peacefully. An opposition to war or violence as a means of resolving disputes. Such opposition is demonstrated by a refusal to participate in military action no matter the provocation.

Nonviolence: A philosophy and strategy for social change that rejects the use of violence. As such, nonviolence is an alternative to passive acceptance of oppression and armed struggle against it. Practitioners of nonviolence may use diverse methods in their campaigns for social change, including critical forms of education and persuasion, civil disobedience and nonviolent direct action, and targeted communication via mass media.

In other words, while proponents of pacifism may employ some of the techniques of nonviolence, proponents of nonviolence can hardly be called pacifists. If anything, they typify the very essence of what it means to be a revolutionary. In fact, the more I learn of Gandhi and King, and for that matter Jesus, the more revolutionary they become for me.

Part of the problem I, and I’m afraid many good-natured Christians, have when delving into this arena is that we tend to focus on the peaceful and loving parts of these men to the exclusion of all else. Yes all three of these men loved their neighbors, and all three felt it their moral duty to give his life for his fellow man. But there has been an almost glossing over by many historians of the very traits that truly defined what each man singularly accomplished.

Jesus’ mocking of the Pharisees, Gandhi’s refusal to acknowledge British sovereignty over India, and King’s admonishment of the Christian Church are as much a part of their stories as the feeding of the four thousand, the hunger strikes, and the march on Selma respectively. It would do violence – no pun intended – to their contributions to humanity to highlight the latter at the expense of the former. In deed if all these men had accomplished were a few good deeds – and in the case of Jesus a few good miracles – I suspect that we would not revere them to the extent that we do. Their collective rantings and rebukings were what ultimately came to define their lives and helped usher in the elements of change we now take for granted: Christianity, an independent India and an awakening of a race and a blind nation. One could no more separate the peaceful elements of their lives from the volatile than to separate oxygen from water. Truth be told, their volatility was what gave their serenity weight and authority. They were no mere pushovers. They were righteous in their indignation, confident that they were justified before God, and in the case of Jesus before the Father.

And so should we. Nonviolence is not a call to lay down one’s arms and roll over. Rather, if anything, it is a call to rise up and make a stand. Temerity must overrule timidness if our lives are to have any meaning before God. We must resist the urge to permit ourselves to be used as doormats and, in the naïve hope that we might persuade those with whom we are diametrically opposed, grant even a semblance of latitude. There is only one correct stance for any of us to have when faced with hypocrisies, bigotry, and outright hatred. We are to call it out, like poison from a wound, and curse it to the ground. Jesus never minced his words when confronted. Why then are we so polite when we find ourselves in similar situations?

We must acknowledge the painful reality that to truly seek a path of nonviolence means we must abandon our pacifist ways, identify who are enemies are, and pursue them with all the vigor of an exploding sun. Each of us has a Jerusalem and a Memphis in his or her life. The only question is whether we will be moving towards that destination or away from it.