Category Archives: Pacifism

Paul Redekop. Changing Paradigms: Punishment and Restorative Discipline

Paul Redekop. Changing Paradigms: Punishment and Restorative Discipline. Herald Press, 2008.

I like the basic argument of this book very well. A Canadian Mennonite peace educator and practitioner has taken on a tremendously important topic: how do we respond to harm-doing without adding to the cycle of harm? And he states a clear point of view, that punishment (by definition a form of violence) is never appropriate. And he seeks to follow the logic of this point of view wherever it takes him–challenging the use of on corporal punishment on children, the use of retributive approaches to criminal justice, and the justification of international violence (i.e., warfare).

On the positive side, Redekop draws the insights of the restorative justice movement to articulate concrete alternatives to dealing with harm-doing in ways that do indeed promise to bring about genuine healing. His proposals may seem utopian, but they are based on actual human experience and are carefully thought through. Given the dead end road we are on with our dynamics of punishment and spirals of violence, he presents us with bases for hope that change may be possible.

I am delighted to see such a thoughtful and internally consistent presentation of this perspective. Though Redekop does not engage theology very seriously (and this is a problem), he frames his argument from within the Christian peace church tradition and its interpretation of the Bible. Sadly, Redekop’s Mennonite tradition with its generations long profound and lived-out opposition to state violence has nonetheless not been very self-aware about the damaging punitive practices toward its own children that have undermined its witness. Redekop alludes briefly to his own punishment-drenched up-bringing in a Mennonite family. And it’s great that he makes these connections–an exercise in self-awareness still pretty rare among the Mennonites I know and know of.

I do wish Redekop had been able to engage theology more deeply, but he at least gives theologians some impetus to test and expand his argument.

I do have one stronger criticism. I am sorry to say that I found the writing style to be uninspiring. The book has an exciting story to tell, but does not tell it in an engaging way. I had to plow on through most of the book. So my recommendation will be qualified. I fear people who are not already disposed to appreciate Redekop’s thinking here may find the book fairly tedious going and may lose patience. I hope not, though, because there is much wisdom and new thinking here.

The Battle with Baal: King Ahab vs. Elijah

Here is the thirteenth in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. This essay, “The Battle with Baal: King Ahab vs. Elijah” focuses on a story that highlights the evolution of human kingship in ancient Israel away from loyalty to Torah and toward self-aggrandizement and power politics. King Ahab expropriates an Israeli’s land (his “inheritance”) in defiance of the message of Torah and has the man killed. He doesn’t quite get away with it and the great prophet Elijah embodies the loyalty of true prophets to Torah and challenges the King.

King Solomon and Temple Politics

Here is the twelfth in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. This essay, “King Solomon and Temple Politics,” interprets the story of King Solomon as, when read in the context of the larger story of politics in the Old Testament, ultimately as a story of Israel’s return to the ways of Egypt. Solomon’s exercise of power politics, seen in a paradigmatic way in his construction of the Temple as a means of domesticating the faith practices of his people, pushes Israel strongly in the direction of domination.

As the story continues, Solomon’s efforts at centralizing power and gaining control over religious practices leads away from the message of Torah–and toward destruction.  In many ways, Solomon represents what will be rejected when the promise to Abraham comes to be seen as continuing apart from (in spite of) the nation state and its violent ways.

Thomas Slaughter. The Beautiful Soul of John Woolman, Apostle of Abolition

Thomas P. Slaughter. The Beautiful Soul of John Woolman, Apostle of Abolition. Hill and Wang, 2008.

John Woolman, the Quaker “saint” who died in 1772, is certainly worthy of continued attention–as is given in this careful and thorough biography. Woolman strongly opposed slavery in a time when even many Quakers were slaveholders. He also opposed warfare and materialism. He wrote a spiritual classic, his Journal, which continues deservedly to be read widely.

I approached this book with great anticipation because while I have known of Woolman’s witness for years, I still didn’t know much about the man and his life.

Slaughter, a history professor at Rochester University in New York, writes a very close-grained account of Woolman’s life, making the most out of the fairly scarce resources we have about this exceedingly modest and spiritually rigorous Friend. So, this book makes an important contribution in giving us the details of Woolman’s outer life that shaped the inner life so powerfully expressed in the Journal.

The Woolman that Slaughter recovers for us (and I should emphasize that Slaughter seems quite sympathetic to the subject of his book–this is neither hagiography nor a hatchet job) does not come across as an overly attractive person. In particular, Woolman seems fairly hateful toward fleshly human life and even his own family ties. He departed on his one trip across the Atlantic to witness to British friends well aware of his delicate health. He expected to die (as he did) while following his calling, loved ones notwithstanding.

My biggest disappointment with this book is Slaughter’s lack of attention to the broader context of Woolman’s life–both in the sense of the dynamics of the world in which Woolman lived (e.g., I wanted desperately to know more about the retreat of Pennsylvania Quakers from political life in their colony–a retreat that reached fruition during Woolman’s life and one that was, apparently strongly encouraged by his own ministry; we are only given glancing hints concerning this event by Slaughter) and in the sense of Woolman’s impact those who followed after him (e.g., one of the big issues pointed to by the book’s title is the abolitionist movement and the transformation among Quakers from tolerance toward slavery to total opposition–Woolman seems to have pioneered these changes but we are not given much of a sense of how).

So, I finished the book wishing for something quite a bit different that what I received. I recommend it only with strong qualifications. It’s pretty long, not particularly engagingly written, and too narrowly focused. We do learn a lot about the details of Woolman’s life–he’s important enough (though Slaughter doesn’t tell us enough about why) to warrant our attention. But so much more could be done with the fascinating story of John Woolman, his life and times, and his legacy.

Peace Theology Book Review Index

King David and the Ambiguities of Power

Here is the eleventh in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. In this essay, “King David and the Ambiguities of Power,” looks at the story of King David’s rise and fall. Even though Samuel had spoken sharply in opposition to the elders of Israel asking God for a human king (to be “like the other nations”), with David’s emergence, we get the sense that the institution of kingship might indeed follow the pattern of Deuteronomy 17. However, over time David succumbs to the allures of excessive power and ends up fulfilling Samuel’s warnings by taking–most overtly, Bathsheba, the beautiful wife of his loyal soldier Uriah. David’s fall marks the long descent of kingship to a pretty complete fulfillment of the worst of Samuel’s warnings. As we will see, in the end to linking of God’s promise with the nation state ends in the rubble of Judah’s king’s palace and the temple.  But the promise does not end….

Israel, Kingship, and Violence—1 Samuel 8; Deuteronomy 17

Here is the tenth in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. In this essay, “Israel, Kingship, and Violence,”  I look at the emergence of the institution of kingship in ancient Israel and its consequences. When we take into account the conclusion to the book of Judges and the early chapters of 1 Samuel, it is understandable how this move toward kingship would have been attractive to Israel’s elders. However, Samuel challenges this move, predicting dire consequences centering on the likely transformation of Israel toward social injustices characteristic of the nations. Deuteronomy gives us a glimpse at a theologically acceptable form of kingship–however, as the story makes clear, the guidelines in Deuteronomy primarily serve as criteria for judging Israel’s kings as failures.

Chaos and Order—Judges 19–21

Here is the ninth in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. In this essay, “Chaos and Order,” I look at the book of Judges, a challenging book to understand in relation to peace theology. I suggest that Judges helps us understand the context for Israel’s disastrous choice to turn toward human kingship with its picture of how, when “there was no king in Israel,” everyone did “that which was right in their own eyes” (Judges 21:25). The story told in Judges is important for peace theology primarily in its account of the struggles of Israel to live in the land–struggles that only grew in the years to come until, finally, the entire idea of God’s promise being channeled through a nation-state had to be abandoned.

The Conquest: God’s Dark Side?—Joshua 1–11

Here is the eighth in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. In this essay, “The Conquest: God’s Dark Side?” I consider one of the Old Testament’s most often-cited “problem texts”—the story of the conquest of the land of Canaan under Joshua’s leadership. This conquest, infamously, includes extraordinary and indiscriminate violence. While trying hard to take this story seriously and to respect its integrity in the biblical account, I also suggest that we need to (1) read it in the context of the broader biblical story that culminates in the witness of Jesus, (2) note important points of continuity between Joshua and Jesus (such as a rejection of human warrior-kings as the center of politics and a commitment on God’s part to intervene on behalf of the vulnerable and oppressed), and (3) pay close attention to the points of discontinuity (especially concerning the use of violence) that lead to an affirmation of Jesus’ revelation as superseding the understanding of God in Joshua.

The Gift of the Law—Exodus 20

Here is the seventh in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. In this essay, “The Gift of the Law,” I reflect on the Ten Commandments as an introduction to Old Testament law. I focus on the commandment, “thou shall not murder” and its implications for pacifism. I suggest that its relevance lay not so much in setting out an absolute command to be pacifists as in establishing that God is the author of life, not human beings, and that the significance of this understanding evolves eventually to lead to clarity about pacifism by the time of Jesus.

Arthur Herman. Gandhi and Churchill

Arthur Herman. Gandhi & Churchill: The Epic Rivalry that Destroyed an Empire and Forged Our Age. Bantam Books, 2008.

This is an interesting book, to say the least. Arthur Herman had an excellent idea, trace the careers of two of the giants of the 20th century from the angle of how their lives intersected with each other (even though the two only met once, when they were both quite young). So, the focus of the book, as the subtitle indicates, is on India–though other themes also make an appearance. The use of the word “destroyed” in reference to the Empire gives some indication of where Herman’s sympathies lie. Though he is an American, he seems to have much regret that the British empire fell by the wayside.

For a massive, scholarly volume by a professional historian, this book reads remarkably well. Herman has a fascinating story to tell–and tell it well he indeed does. You don’t read a book this large (600+ pages) in one sitting, and I continually found myself reluctant to put it down (in my younger days I am sure I would have continued long into the night to find out what was going to happen next). The book follows a pretty straight chronology, and even a person pretty familiar with the outline of the events will still find new information and provocative interpretive moves throughout.

Just as Herman himself clearly has a distinctive perspective that shapes how he presents this material, so readers will bring their perspectives that shape how they will respond to this book. From my perspective as one decidedly unfriendly to empires and their champions (such as Churchill), and friendly to Gandhi’s pioneering work in the philosophy and practice of nonviolence, Herman comes across as a pretty unreliable witness in the Gandhi half of this double biography. Yet, even though Herman likes Churchill much better than I do, his treatment of the man is much more objective and believable than his corresponding account of Gandhi’s career.

That is, I felt I learned enough about Churchill to be able to form my own judgment. Herman is thorough and clear in providing ample bases for seeing Churchill as a deeply problematic influence on the world of the 20th century–even as Herman himself generally views this influence as more positive. Churchill’s own father seems to have been monstrous toward his son, who to the end of his life felt he had utterly failed to live up to the father’s expectations. Churchill drank deeply of imperial grandiosity (along with other more mundane spirits) and, at the cost of untold lives, exerted every ounce of his considerable power and influence to keep the British Empire intact long after even the British people themselves believed it was time to let go. Churchill was an unrepentant racist, also with deadly consequences for India and other part of the Empire. And he was apparently the person most responsible for several terrible military disasters (most notably the infamous fiasco at Gallipoli during World War I).

To Herman’s credit, we get Churchill warts and all. In fact, after reading the book and thinking about it a few days, I am not quite sure why Herman respects Churchill so much. He certainly does not provide a persuasive case for why we should see Churchill as a great man–that seems to be Herman’s assumption, one he does not really allow the evidence he has presented here (which does not show Churchill as a great man) to challenge.

One item, not really central to the theme of the book, irritated me in relation to Herman’s treatment of Churchill and perhaps illustrates how his assumptions shape his conclusions. In its account of World War II, the book (appropriately) focuses on India. Herman is not attempting to present an account of the War in general. Nonetheless, one reading only this book would most likely conclude that Britain under Churchill’s leadership played the central role in defeating Nazi Germany–with an important assist from the United State. It seems clear historically, though, that by the major factor in Germany’s defeat was the incredible effort of the Soviet Union. By essentially ignoring the Soviets, Herman can give the impression that Churchill’s accomplishment in leading Britain (impressive in its own way, for sure) was way more significant than it actually was.

Whereas with Gandhi, it’s kind of the opposite problem. We do learn a great deal about many of the events of Gandhi’s life–but I simply don’t know how much of what Herman says about the Indian leader is to be believed. Time after time he asserts that the standard account of Gandhi’s career is wrong, but almost never presents evidence to support his assertion. If he were trustworthy on Gandhi, such assertions would be quite helpful for all who want the most accurate account of one who certainly has been the object of much hagiography. But the best I can bring myself to say about Herman’s Gandhi sections is that they raise provocative questions and challenge me to look more closely at the sources.

Throughout the book Herman combines two types of comments regarding Gandhi that seem deeply in tension–one is how just about every major campaign or other initiative Gandhi took was essentially a failure or at least of negligible significance (going back to the emergence of sayagraha in South Africa down to Gandhi’s last days of seeking for Hindu/Muslim reconciliation); the second was how powerful and highly influential Gandhi was in India and globally. The significance for Herman of Gandhi’s influence is almost always to suggest how problematic that influence was, how Gandhi bore so much responsibility when events turned bad. But how can both of these dynamics be true–Gandhi’s utter ineffectiveness and Gandhi’s powerful and regrettable influence? If Gandhi was always so ineffective, how did he come to have so much influence?

Part of the problem is that Herman makes no attempt whatsoever to account for Gandhi’s philosophy, other than occasional disparaging comments often pointing either to Gandhi’s hypocrisy or out of touch idealism. The reader of this book will learn virtually nothing about the meaning that satyagraha had for Gandhi, where it came from and how he sought to apply it. There are no reflections on Gandhi’s powerful influence on various social change efforts around the world.

Here is one quote that captures a great deal of Herman’s sensibility: “The confrontation [between Churchill and Gandhi] was between two different conceptions of life. One rested on secular and humanistic traditions that had been tested by history and centuries of human conflict. The other rested on a vision of spiritual purity in which history and material things (including Gandhi’s own body) counted for nothing. Churchill valued human liberty as the product of struggle, as man’s supreme achievement. Gandhi, by contrast, valued liberty as God’s supreme achievement. It was man’s duty to live up to that standard. Without it, Gandhi believed, life was meaningless, including his own” (page 507).

The idea that a racist and imperialist such as Churchill, who fought bitterly to keep India’s hundreds of millions of people under the dominance of Great Britain, valued “liberty” supremely seems ludicrous. And we can ask how “humanistic” any tradition is that undergirds such racism and imperialism and that so comfortably resorts to such violations of standards of restraint in warfare as seen in the Churchill-approved saturation bombing of civilian populations in cities such as Dresden and Hamburg during World War II.

The relation between Gandhi’s philosophy and practice of nonviolence and “history and material things” is a point of major debate–a debate that will be extremely difficult to resolve in part due to the incomplete evidence we have concerning where history actually is going and in part due to the importance of our assumptions in how we address such a question. However, I want to argue that in fact Gandhi’s philosophy is extraordinarily important for human history, is at its core anchored in history, and is actually our best hope for on-going human existence in history.

As I mentioned above, I did find this book highly enjoyable to read. And I think Herman deserves our gratitude for taking on such an interesting and important project. In the end, though, I don’t really think that what the world today needs is an exaltation of Churchillian imperialism combined with an attempted debunking of Gandhian satyagraha–rather, what we need is an account of this story that take the opposite tack in dealing with each of its main characters.

Peace Theology Book Review Index