General Introduction Sean Martin Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding. —Albert Einstein There is no such thing as defeat in non-violence. —César Chavez Before embarking on a philosophical excursion through the literature of peace and nonviolence, it is worth a little time and effort to acquaint ourselves with the key terms we’ll be working with. Much of the work of philosophy concerns the examination and analysis of conceptual terms. In some cases, the analysis of a basic terms constitutes the central focus of an entire disciplinary subject of philosophy. For example, epistemology is principally the study of the concept, “knowledge.” The questions addressed therein include, “What is the nature and scope of knowledge?”; “How do we distinguish justified beliefs from mere opinion?” and the like. Likewise, entire treatises are dedicated to an understanding of complex conceptual terms such as justice, being, beauty, love, truth, etc. When we employ such terms casually in our daily lives, we generally assume some common or conventional understanding. But when we stop to reflect on exactly what we mean when we use a term such as justice or knowledge, matters quickly become less familiar. The history of philosophy is, in large part, an attempt to develop methods for addressing such problems. Consider, for example, what the authors of the above quotes might mean by the terms “peace” and “nonviolence” respectively. Certainly, their meaning wouldn’t appear obvious to many. Some would find it puzzling to think that peace could not be kept by force, as it is quite typical for communities to refer to their (generally armed) local police as “peace officers” charged with “keeping the peace.” Further, it is often assumed that a strong military is precisely what is required if a nation wishes to remain at peace, both in its domestic affairs as well as with its neighbors. Peace, in this sense, is exactly the sort of thing that is presumed to be kept by force. So, what could Einstein mean? And Chavez’ claim will seem even more puzzling to many. How could it be that nonviolence is impervious to failure? Is it not obvious that mild and gentle people, whether pursuing a just cause or simply minding their own business, are often struck down by those who employ violent means? If so, isn’t it clear that his claim is patently false? Yet we’ve been led to believe that Albert Einstein and César Chavez are not foolish and frivolous individuals. To the contrary, they are widely revered as champions of justice and truth. So, what could they mean by the words they choose? What is Nonviolence? The term, “nonviolence,” has a rich and dynamic etymology. As is often the case with complex conceptual terms, it is difficult to define nonviolence by reference to any clear set of essential (i.e. necessary or sufficient) properties. The term has variously been employed as a negative or positive concept, as a reference to tactics or to principles, as explicit or covert, as a reflection of social group strategy or individual ideal, and so on. This leads the author to suggest that it is probably best not to think of nonviolence as a single notion, but instead to consider the term as referencing a group of concepts that are connected by what the 20th Century philosophy Ludwig Wittgenstein referred to as a “family resemblance.”1 That is, the various ways the term nonviolence is (or has been) used, share some overlapping relations or similarities that render general reference to the term meaningful without requiring adherence to (or even allowing for) a rigid, essential, and universal set of criteria. With this in mind, one approach that seems promising is to start by examining the various ways people actually use the term “nonviolence,” or the related concept “non-violence,” in describing human behavior.2 In doing so, we may discover there are common criteria across these many uses. Or, it is possible that the uses of the term are conflicting or even mutually exclusive. In any case, such a survey will serve as a useful starting point in our effort to analyze and deliberate on how best to employ the term, “nonviolence,” effectively. Negative nonviolence (or non-violence) For many who are unfamiliar with the history and literature of nonviolence, their initial associations with the term is exclusively negative, i.e. emphasizing the absence of the decidedly active business of violence. This is a reflection of the terms etymology, where the “non” in nonviolence is derived from the Latin root denoting “not” or an “absence of.” A negative definition, unlike a positive definition which seeks to explain what a concept entails, references properties or criteria that the concept excludes. In other words, it tells us what a term does not denote or reference. A simple example might be the term “bald,” which is best understood as describing a dearth of hair. In this sense, the surface of the moon is “nonviolent.” Consequently, nonviolence signifies for many a form of passivity, where the term connotes a deficiency, namely that whatever is being described lacks positive characteristics (in this case, violence). Though use of the negative sense of nonviolence is often neutral (i.e. not inherently derogatory) or even appropriate, associations with apathy, weakness, cowardice, and indifference often accompany this limited understanding of the term. So, for instance, a society may entail significant injustice and oppression, but if (e.g. due to fear of punishment) none are resisting violently, then the population of said society may be described as “nonviolent.” For clarity, many authors reserve the hyphenated version of the term, i.e. “non-violence,” to underscore their intent to limit reference to this negative sense. But when advocates use the term, they typically mean something more. They mean to denote an attitude or principled (usually conscious) rejection of violence that goes beyond a passive lacking. In such instances, the term is best understood as a renunciation of, or a refusal to, engage in violence. Understanding nonviolence in this manner inevitably raises the question, “What does it mean to refuse to engage in violence?” That is, before grasping this modified, albeit still negative, understanding of the term, we are faced with the need to analyze “violence.” Before we proceed, however, it is worth noting a potential problem arises in approaching the concept of nonviolence in this manner. We risk privileging the concept of violence in our assessment of nonviolence, potentially reinforcing common misconceptions of the term and obscuring the dynamic and active senses nonviolence invokes for those who study and practice nonviolence in its positive and/or principled forms. Acknowledging this, it is the opinion of this author that this risk is a necessary step to fully grasping the concept of nonviolence. The repudiation of violence is, after all, among the basic criteria of nonviolence even in its positive senses. It is imperative, however, that we remain mindful that this criterion is by no means sufficient. Thus, I ask the reader to keep this in mind as we pursue this question of the meaning of violence. Thus, there is a distinct and meaningful sense in which nonviolence can, and often is, expressed negatively by those who intentionally commit themselves to nonviolence. But in doing so, such proponents by no means intend to identify nonviolence with passivity or the mere absence of violence. As noted above, this sense is not purely negative, i.e. it is not exclusively identified with what nonviolence is not. Instead, such proponents emphasize the active repudiation, or principled refusal, of any resort to violence. In this oppositional or defiant sense, the term nonviolence is defined as a disposition or character trait that is divergent from or opposed to violent actions. This nonviolence (as opposed to the above-mentioned “non-violence”) demands a courageous and purposeful renunciation of violence and so is near the cusp of being classified a positive sense of nonviolence. To make plain this modified version of the negative sense of nonviolence, an historical illustration might prove useful. Consider the case of Rosa Parks, whose refusal to comply with a command she found to be unjust and morally odious, acted (or rather, actively refused to act) in a manner that cannot be fairly characterized as passive. In fact, she was not alone when she was ordered to vacate her seat on that bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Others who complied with the order, i.e. those who relinquished their seats to white passengers, would appear to be more active to an observer who was ignorant of the context. They were physically doing something, moving their bodies, while Parks did not move. However, their conformity to a repugnant and discriminatory status quo is decidedly more passive in the relevant sense. Compliance with the command in this case constitutes a passive acceptance of, and grants legitimacy to, an insidious structural form of racism and violence. This description is not meant to abuse or shame those individuals who, unlike Parks, complied with the order. The sanctions for noncompliance were severe and the pervasive structural violence towards nonconformity with this and so many similar commands are designed to make compliance seem natural or nearly so. The underlying fear inspired by countless acts of brutality towards members of an oppressed group makes such behavior seem entirely prudent and rational. Participants in such a context become entirely myopic to the underlying oppression unfolding, unable to recognize that violence is taking place. This makes Parks’ reaction all the more impressive. Her relatively motionless defiance, this seemingly simple and innocuous behavior, was an active and courageous repudiation of what had become an omnipresent system of brutal and dehumanizing violence.