“Not a ‘good war’: We should mourn, not celebrate the victory of violence in World War II.”
Here is an article that was originally published in The Mennonite (June 13, 1995).
How does one stick to pacifist convictions during war time, especially a war with strong social acceptance? This is the issue Mennonites in the United States faced during World War II. I have written an essay, Civilian Public Service and Mennonite Pacifism, that addresses this question.
I suggest that the key elements in the ability of the young men of draft age to stay faithful to their convictions were the efforts made by their church communities to offer spiritual and material support. About 50% of the Mennonite young men who were drafted performed alternative service (they made up about 40% of all legally recognized conscientious objectors).
Though this was a difficult time for Mennonites in the U.S. in many ways, they emerged from World War II with their sense of identity intact. Many of those who performed alternative service became leaders in the churches in the years following–and exerted a powerful influence in deepening Mennonite pacifist commitments.
Everyone would agree that Noam Chomsky is an extraordinarily prolific writer. Beyond that, when we begin to evaluate his work, the controversies begin. I have no idea how many anthologies of his writings have been produced (a great many, I am sure). The Chomsky Reader
Personally, I believe that Noam Chomsky is a wonderful gift to those of us deeply concerned with applying our pacifist convictions to the real world. This book is a more than adequate starting place to get a sense of the way Chomsky cuts through American self-delusions about our military policies and our impact on the rest of the world. Chomsky’s reputation as a wild-eyed radical seems to rest on reactions by people who likely have read little of what he has actually written. If anything, Chomsky errs on the side of dispassion in his analyses. He is very factual in his discussions, and usually provides extensive documentation.
One of the major contributions this anthology makes today is to remind us that as noxious as the policies and practices of the present Republican administration might be, the policies and practices of earlier Democratic administrations have also wrought great destruction in the world (specifically, Chomsky discusses the Johnson and Carter administrations).
One element of Chomsky’s thought that impresses me a great deal is his rigorous use of moral convictions. Though the underpinnings of his moral rigor are not clearly revealed in this book, Chomsky has discussed in other contexts the influence of his Jewish up-bringing and the continued relevance for him of the witness of the biblical prophets he studied in Hebrew school.
One fruit of this moral rigor may be seen in Chomsky’s insistence that as Americans we have a powerful responsibility to hold ourselves to the same standards we use in evaluating other cultures (e.g., the “communists” during the Cold War and, he makes clear in more recent writings, the “terrorists” today). If we hold to objective moral criteria, we will reject injustice and oppression no matter who practices it–and we will especially take responsibility for stopping the unjust and oppressive practices of our own society.
Chomsky is often labeled as “anti-American,” clearly a slander that comes from those who want to avoid taking his analyses seriously. He is simply asking Americans to seek consistently to adhere to our stated values of equality and human rights.
In this collection, the essay I found most helpful was one he wrote in the mid-1980s comparing U.S. fighting in Vietnam and Central America: “Intervention in Vietnam and Central America: Parallels and Differences.” Again, reading this most helpful analysis would cure any opponents of current American practices of nostalgia for the old days when supposedly things weren’t so bad.
The other part of the book I want to draw attention is the section containing three essays under the rubric, “The Responsibility of Intellectuals.” These essays have a timeless quality that allows them, sadly, to remain as relevant to today as when they were first written.
When Eric Hobsbawm writes about empire and the United States, people with strong interests in peacemaking should pay attention. The nice thing about his 2008 book, On Empire: America, War, and Global Supremacy
Hobsbawm, who was born in 1917 and still remains a keen interpreter of current events and their historical contexts, compares the American empire with the British empire. As his classic one-volume history of the “short twentieth century,” Age of Extremes shows (along with many of his other works), he is not fan of the British empire. But he sees the American empire as even more problematic.
However, On Empire is not a polemic so much as a brief but perceptive taking account of the recent past, present, and possible future of America’s militaristic imperialism. Hobsbawm argues against the efficacy and moral legitimacy of “humanitarian armed intervention.” He points out that with the emergence of ever-stronger drives for self-determination among the world’s people, “would-be empires can no longer rely on the obedience of their subjects….[Hence,] there is no prospect of a return to the imperial world of the past, lel alone the prospect of a lasting global imperial hegemony” (pp. 12-13).
The impossibility of the U.S. sustaining its global hegemony should be encouraging news. However, Hobsbawm (who indeed does think it is good news) also points out the bad news: “There is now…a complete absence of any effective global authority capable of controlling or settling armed disputes” (pp. 24-25). That is, we have no basis for optimism in the foreseeable future that we have much hope of solving the violence problem.
This book is not a call to arms so much as a pessimistic but insightful snapshot of our current situation. It’s readable and seems trustworthy.
Revelation five is the most important chapter in the book. Here we face the big question of human life–how do we understand God to be working out God’s purposes? The vision of the scroll in the right hand of the “one on the throne” addresses this issue. How will the scroll (which contains the message of the resolution of history) be opened and its contents made manifest? First John fears no one can open the scroll. Then, he is told someone has been found–a great king, intimating a great warrior. But what he sees is the true reality: a lamb that was slain and now stands is the one with true power. This vision at the heart of Revelation, according to my sermon, “How Does God Win?,” makes clear that persevering love, not coercive firepower, reflects the deepest element of God’s power–and serves as our model.
Nicholson Baker. 567pp. Human Smoke: The Beginnings of World War II, the End of Civilization
To put it mildly, in Human Smoke, Nicholson Baker has produced an amazing book. It was one of the most absorbing 400+ page books I have ever read.
The book is made up of hundreds, probably close to 1,000, short vignettes that trace the events leading up to World War II and its prosecution until the end of 1941 (which, for the U.S., marked our country’s entry into the War).
These vignettes are mostly simple, descriptive statements; only rarely is Baker’s voice apparent. An example of an editorial comment, though, may be found on page 452: A December 10, 1941, Gallup poll had shown that two-thirds of the American population would support the U.S. firebombing Japanese cities in retaliation for Pearl Harbor. “Ten percent—representing twelve million citizens—were wholly opposed. Twelve million people still held to Franklin Roosevelt’s basic principle of civilization: that no man should be punished for the deeds of another. Franklin D. Roosevelt was not one of them.”
As should be obvious (and reviewers have all taken pains to note), the reader should not mistake the objective tone of Baker’s reportage for a merely descriptive intent on his part. Baker clearly has an agenda—though precisely what that agenda is remains for us to discern from the book’s contents. It has no introduction or commentary beyond a very brief “Afterword.” However, by what he includes and excludes, Baker tells a story filtered through his own lenses and reflecting his own concerns. Continue reading
Though we have many fine histories of the development of the Mennonite churches in North America, it still seems useful to have a thumbnail sketch of the historical developments that led from the original Anabaptist movement in the 16th century to the present main Mennonite denomination in the United States.
My essay, “From Sixteenth-Century Anabaptism to Mennonite Church U.S.A.”, a version of which was published in my book, Embodying the Way of Jesus: Anabaptist Convictions for the Twenty-First Century
Most futuristic readings of the Book of Revelation base their “hope” on the destructive intervention of God in clearly predicted future events of judgment and punishment–events that born-again Christians will be raptured away from before they happen. In the sermon linked below (part of an on-going series), I critique that view and suggest a different basis for Christian hope.
Jesus’ first coming reveals all we need to know about God and God’s involvement with human beings. Our hope is based on the life-fullness of following Jesus’ path of persevering love in all of life, even unto death.
Sermon #3: “Power in Weakness”
It is more than a perverse attraction to warfare that makes pacifism unpopular in our contemporary world. The ways we are socialized to see the world themselves mitigate against pacifism. So we need to consider what aspects of the modern worldview in western culture underwrite violence. This is the focus of my essay, “A Pacifist Critique of the Modern Worldview,” which is part of my book in process, Pacifism with Justice: The Biblical and Theological Case.
Drawing on writers such as James C. Scott, David Abrams, Richard Tarnas, and Albert Borgmann, I critique this “modern worldview” for its seeing the universe as impersonal, its emphasis on dominating nature, and its rationalism–all factors that actually tend to underwrite violence.
Christian theology is both part of the problem and part of the solution with regard to violence against children. My essay, “The Theological Roots of Violence Against Children,” which is part of my book in progress, Pacifism with Justice: The Biblical and Theological Case, addresses this tension.
I suggest that a problematic “logic of retribution” characterizes the theology of evangelical writers such as James Dobson and Millard Erickson. This logic underwrites harsh practices of child discipline that actually teach children to be violent. Drawing on the work of Alice Miller and others, I argue for more peace-oriented approaches to relating to children that are ultimately grounded in biblical theology.
Peace Theology 