Just as Water is Wet: Non-Violence in a Violent World

Just As Water Is Wet:

Non-Violence in a Violent World

Bryndilynn Goodlin

Senior Paper 2017

 “Thou shalt not kill.”

-Exodus 20:13 (KJV)

“If, then, anyone affirms that it is just to render to each his due and he means by this, that injury and harm is what is due to his enemies from the just man and benefits to his friends, he was no truly wise man who said it. For what he meant was not true. For it has been made clear to us that in no case is it just to harm anyone.” –Plato, The Republic[1]

***

I hate guns. I know I should say I don’t hate the object, that I just hate the effects that guns have, but I really do hate guns. I hate the heavy feel of the gun, I hate the feeling of the trigger beneath my finger, and I hate the blast of death that follows the pulling of the trigger--even if it’s signaling only the death of a clay pigeon. It may seem odd that I grew up in a family of gun owners. We aren’t normal gun owners, either. We didn’t hunt or have them for self-defense against intruders. The only reason we had them, besides the fact that everyone thought they looked cool, was for protection from mountain lions and bears while we rode our horses through the wilderness every summer. But I knew what guns were designed for and I hated them. While my family would practice target shooting out in our woods, I would stay inside, covering my ears.

I also hate Westerns. It’s not the crudeness of the films, the poor portrayal of Native Americans, or even the rough language that make me hate them--although those things do contribute. It’s the senseless taking of life, whether human or otherwise. I hate watching as person after person and animal after animal are riddled with bullets for no other reason than someone had a petty disagreement with someone else. This is also the reason I hate most action movies and Troy. My family, and many of my friends, can tell you that if you subject me to one of these films, I will most likely sit there with my face in my knees and my arms locked over my ears so as not to hear the gut-wrenching sounds or see the senseless bloody bath.

***

The day we learned that we would be killing turtles in lab to study the effects of neurotransmitters on the heart, I cried. That same day, I sat with two of my best friends as they found out that their beloved aunt had passed away. A couple days before, I had carried a doomed bee to safety and then cried over the unfairness of it all--a bee lives, a friend dies, another wants to. The anterior cingulate cortexes--the part of the brain that controls emotion--of our house are in overdrive, over stimulating our vagus nerves, causing the nauseating heartbreak. Cortisol--the main stress hormone--runs rampant, chests are tight; death is bad for your health.

***

William Stafford was one of the most famous conscientious objectors in World War II because of the undeniable writing skill that he used throughout the war--and his life. He was an avid advocator for peace and this came out frequently, and strongly, in his writing--both in his poetry and prose alike. His poetry, especially, brings out his understanding and commitment to peace as is obvious in this poem.

“At the Un-National Monument along the Canadian Border”[2]

-By William Stafford

This is the field where the battle did not happen,

where the unknown soldier did not die.

This is the field where grass joined hands,

where no monument stands,

and the only heroic thing is the sky.

 

Birds fly here without any sound,

unfolding their wings across the open.

No people killed—or were killed—on this ground

hallowed by neglect and an air so tame

that people celebrate it by forgetting its name.

***

I wish I could say that I was a peaceful child. I’m still not. I wish I could say that wherever I have been exists a “field where the battle did not happen,” but that wouldn’t be true. My frustrations, my strong willed-ness, and my impatience often come out far more aggressively than I intend. My teeth are ground to the point that my dentist father warns me that if I don’t wear my nightguard more, I will probably lose them soon. I’m often afraid that my clenching will crack them. Kickboxing helps to release some of the stress, but it’s not a permanent solution. I want to be peaceful. Rather, my head wants peace. But my mind and body are at odds. 

***

I have only ever been shooting once in my life. It was during my sophomore year at Walla Walla University when my friend invited me to hang out with her and her boyfriend’s friends for the afternoon. I was told that it was ok, that shooting at a target was not the same as shooting at a live creature, and of course, I knew that. And I let them talk me into shooting with them. I was told I had exceptionally good aim for a first-timer. But with each pull of the trigger, the only thing I could think of was that these machines were meant to kill. I saw the people in the Westerns, I saw Danny on Pearl Harbor, and I saw the weasel my dad had shot because it was eating our chickens. Killing something was only one step farther than target practice and I feared what I could do with this skill if my aggressive human nature were ever provoked past the point of logic. I decided I would never shoot another gun. I did not want to be prepared to be in a position where I could be required or provoked to kill, and I knew that if I compromised now, I might be more likely to compromise later. So I put down the gun, walked to the picnic table near the range, and covered my ears.

***

She was in charge of the Collegian Feature that commemorated the two-year anniversary of the tragic death of her dear friend. As she collected numerous pictures, tributes to, and stories of her friend, she remembered the afternoon that she learned of the accident. A beautiful, February, sunny day, the first in a long time; a bicycle ride, with all the right equipment; a truck, the driver blinded by the sun; and a life-flight to Seattle, no one knowing if the girl with the long blonde hair and winning smile would make it. “#MaddyStrong” read the clothespins on everyone’s shirts. “She’s going to make it. She’s strong,” said others in attempts to console those with tear-streaked faces. But then she didn’t. She remembered the days that followed: the heartbreak, the anger, the silence. She remembered learning to live with the pain and the lessons the beautiful girl had taught her. And if there’s anything that these past two years taught her, it is that life is precious and we don’t know when it is going to end so we damn well better live it, love it, and protect it. We don’t have the right to take it. Not even our own, because, honestly, our lives are not really our own.

***

Sergeant Howell: He's a C.O., Sir.

Captain Glover: You're a Conscientious Objector? And you joined the Army?

Desmond Doss: Well, no, Sir. I'm a Conscientious Cooperator.

Glover: Are you screwing with me, Doss?

Doss: No. No, Sir. I volunteered. I ain’t got no, no problem with wearing my uniform, saluting the flag, and doing my duty. It’s just--just carrying a gun and the taking a human life.

Glover: You don’t kill? That’s all?

Doss: Yes, sir, that’s all.[3]

I was sitting in a full theater in Eugene, Oregon with my family when Desmond Doss corrected his Captain in Hacksaw Ridge, explaining to him his true military stance. I lost it. I had never seen any recognition of the Conscientious Cooperator stance outside of a couple documents detailing Adventism in World War II and an article or two I had researched in the Adventist-run Review and Herald a couple years prior. The obscure title had reached the light and I was thrilled. After the end of the movie I decided to google the phrase to see if the movie had sparked any new interest, and lo and behold, the results even spilled onto the second page of Google. Everyone was interested in this strange little stance and its application during World War II, and Desmond Doss had given them a popular real-life application to study.

***

I am not really a pacifist. But I am not a militarist either. I have a healthy sense of patriotism, but I also have a strong conviction that deliberate killing is wrong. But I also realize that sometimes killing is inevitable in order to protect those we love and to keep more from dying senseless deaths, as in the case of defensive war. The Seventh-day Adventist church during World War II also seemed to realize this when they adopted the stance of the Conscientious Cooperator in order to better describe the way they felt towards the war. 

***

“Objector”[4]

By William Stafford

In line at lunch I cross my fork and spoon

to ward off complicity--the ordered life

our leaders have offered us. Thin as a knife,

our chance to live depends on such a sign

while others talk and The Pentagon from the moon

is bouncing exact commands: "Forget your faith;

be ready for whatever it takes to win: we face

annihilation unless all citizens get in line."

 

I bow and cross my fork and spoon: somewhere

other citizens more fearfully bow

in a place terrorized by their kind of oppressive state.

Our signs both mean, "You hostages over there

will never be slaughtered by my act." Our vows

cross: never to kill and call it fate.

***

When I first started researching the U.S. Seventh-day Adventist church’s reaction to conscription during World War II, I identified as a pacifist. Just like William Stafford, I too had vowed “never to kill and call it fate.” In order to fully understand the Adventist church’s World War II stance, I had to research how they had reacted to previous wars and when I did, I became angry. At their foundation in 1863--right in the middle of the American Civil War--Seventh-day Adventists identified as pacifists. One of the founders of the church, Ellen White, was opposed to Adventist participation in the Civil War; she argued that involvement would compromise fundamental Adventist ideals: “ I was shown that God’s people, who are His peculiar treasure, cannot engage in this perplexing war, for it is opposed to every principle of their faith. In the army they cannot obey the truth and at the same time obey the requirements of their officers. There would be a violation of conscience.” [5]  Therefore, when forced to obtain governmental recognition later in the war, the church registered itself as conscientious objector—the only noncombatant position available to claim at the time—creating a commitment to pacifism within the church that lasted until the First World War. [6]  When the U.S. Government chose to participate in World War I in 1917, the Adventist church decided to reconsider its pacifist stance and instead declared themselves as noncombatants. Although the U.S. Seventh-day Adventists accepted their role as noncombatants, they were not always able to avoid conflict with the government in relation to their beliefs, [7] which gave the church a determination to be “better prepared for the next war.” [8]

After World War I, there was concern from pacifists in the church that the church had not dealt with the issue of militarism correctly. The pacifists were afraid that it had become too much like the other churches who supported the war efforts and “urged the General Conference to take a firm stand” against future war efforts. [9] However, contrary to the efforts of the pacifists to return the church to its original stance, this “attention to the problem of military service…did not produce a shift toward pacifism or a resistance to militarism, but rather a move in the opposite direction” [10] towards a stance of increased cooperation with the government. Church leaders choose to describe noncombatants as those who “[recognize] that warfare is unavoidable in maintaining civil Government in a world of sin, [… yet] conscientiously object to taking human life.” [11] They went further to clarify that although noncombatants hold this stance, they do not condemn those who are combatants, but instead, are willing to aid the war efforts in any way possible other than killing human beings. [12] The Adventist church “took pains to show that despite [their official] classification [of conscientious objector], the Adventist position was quite different from other forms of conscientious objection.” [13] In contrast to the “war resisters, pacifists, conscientious objectors to war, and all others who refuse service to their country,” [14] the Adventist church argued complete submission on the part of the church: “As noncombatants, we do not oppose war, we do not agitate against war, we do not organize against war, we make no protest against war, we are not unwilling to serve in the military organization when drafted, we are not opposed to saluting the flag, and we are not opposed to wearing our country’s uniform.” [15] This classification of the noncombatant was eventually modified into the ideology of the “conscientious cooperator.” This classification of conscientious cooperator shows a change in mentality for the church from its original position of conscientious objector. To me, they seemed to have loosened their standards--becoming less and less strict in their adherence to the pacifist standard. They had laid aside--disowned, in fact--their pacifist stance in exchange for a more cooperative stance, and like many of the pacifists in the church at the time of this decision, this upset me.

I understood that this cooperative stance proposed a way for the U.S. Seventh-day Adventist church to fulfill its patriotic duties while allowing it to hold true to its beliefs--while also allowing the church to portray itself favorably to the U.S. Government--but I saw this change in position as weak, and I despised it. I admired the Mennonites and the Quakers and people like William Stafford who chose to remain pacifist, despite mistreatment and persecution by government and civilian alike. I thought, isn’t that what Adventists are supposed to want? To be persecuted? Isn’t that the proof that they are doing right? In the world, but not of it. Why, then, did they run when given the opportunity? I pondered over these questions as I continued to research. However, as the years passed and I continued to read about and study the position of the conscientious cooperator, I began to identify with it. But it wasn’t until I saw Hacksaw Ridge that I truly started to reconsider my pacifist stance. Just like the Adventist church, I too was changing my position to better reflect my beliefs in both not taking life and respecting the civil government.

Although I still saw the official church position as “convenient” in that they were able to avoid much conflict with the government because of their more moderate stance, my heart was softened as I learned about people like Desmond Doss who truly believed in this position of not killing, yet remaining supportive of his country, and who was willing to go through a lot of difficulty and trial in order to claim this stance. I began to realize that there really isn’t a perfect answer to the question of war and that not everyone can identify as a conscientious cooperator or as a pacifist, and nor will they. It is unfortunate that peace is something we have to fight for, but I’m grateful that there are people willing and I will not demonize them. As Wright Morris once said, “The appalling facts of this world [exist] to be forgiven.” [16] War is appalling, but sometimes we have to learn forgiveness towards it. I understand that a world of peace may not be attainable in this world of war. Robert Bly, in his introduction to William Stafford’s book of poems The Darkness Around Us Is Deep, explains why when he says “[t]he human being is aggressive just as water is wet.”[17] Humans are aggressive: to themselves and to others. And try as we might, we cannot escape the effects of human aggression. Even so, if you ask me what my position is on war, for now, I will hold my head high, smile slightly, and declare “I am a conscientious cooperator”--and then proceed to cover my ears.

***

Death has concerned me for as long as I can remember. Not my own death--because for some reason, the thought of my own death has never frightened me--but rather, the deaths of others. My research paper fit me perfectly because ever since I was little, I have had a hard time with death in war. I would get terribly upset when my siblings would want to play battleship or army men and would often spout lectures about peace and how we need to save lives instead of taking them. It’s safe to say my siblings never bought it and my tears were more often than not met with rolling eyes. Although it’s been years since those days, I never fully grew out of those feelings that I harbored as a child. I understand that sometimes war is necessary, but I can’t help but think that the soldiers themselves have nothing against each other except that they are from different countries with different ideals. Plato talks about this a little, I think, when he talks about the difference between the good man and the bad. It’s really relative. We have no way of knowing if those we are fighting are actually bad. Sure, their commander-in-chiefs may seem to be, but not all of the “enemy” are necessarily bad. In Man’s Search for Meaning, Victor Frankl writes about both good German guards and bad Jewish prisoners.[18] He asserts that just because someone is the enemy doesn’t mean they are bad, and similarly, just because someone is our friend, or on our side, doesn’t mean that they are good. [19]

I also have a hard time with ambulance sirens because I know that somewhere out there, someone might be dying or dead. This became especially prominent after the death of Maddy because I remember hearing the ambulance siren as it rushed to the site of her accident but had no idea that it was going to her. Now, every time I hear the sound, it brings back that memory and I stop and pray for whomever it’s going to.

But the death I especially have a hard time with, is death by suicide. I remember when my dad told us that our cousin had committed suicide. I had never really thought about suicide before that, and although I didn’t know him well, I was distraught. I couldn’t imagine going through that experience with someone I actually knew and loved. Soon after, my youth group spent a quarter reading and discussing--and eventually watching--To Save a Life. It had a far more profound impact on me than I could have ever imagined. To have someone that I loved die by suicide became my worst fear. I realized that it is one thing to be killed accidentally or in doing a just cause. It is quite another to take your own life. You are literally murdering yourself. Consider the consequences.

 

“Taking your own life. Interesting expression. Taking it from whom? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everyone else. Your life is not your own, keep your hands off It.” –Sherlock: The Lying Detective[20]

***

Ernest Hemingway once said that a “writer’s job is to tell the truth.”[21] However, there are times when all the prose in the world isn’t able to really convey the truth in the same way that poetry can. There’s something about the ambiguity of poetry that allows difficult and complex messages to become simple, and still retain their truthfulness. I do not claim to be a poet, but sometimes poetry is the only way I can find to communicate truthfully the things I need to get across. This is one such poem.

“Dark Eyes”

The windows to the soul are dark I see

They’re tinted with the night of hope that’s lost

And shattered clinging piece to shattered piece

While trying to hide the convoluted mess

To trust might break the glass you’re holding up

You say it’s not a chance you want to take

World shattered once, you fear it will not stop

But ‘seems at times to build one first must break

You stare at me, I long to see inside

The portals boarded up, so hard to read

I want to ease the pain you try to hide

To help you feel the peace you really need

Please loose the shattered panes of pain and fear

And fit the frame with hope that’s firm and clear

***

“About a Boy”

He didn’t quite remember the first time he met her. He was pretty sure it was the weekend before school started, but his first real memory of her was a couple weeks later when they both attended an event and he forgot her best friend’s name but remembered hers. He remembered her smile and her laugh; the way her dark eyes twinkled when she was having fun. He could hear her smiling voice in his head, long after they had been apart, excitedly responding to a question or a statement that had been made. He remembered the excited way she would call out when she saw him and the smile that would light up her face. He remembered the long conversations they used to have and how fascinated he had been with her passion for everything. He remembered her intelligence and how she never showed it off. Everyone just knew it was there. He remembered her kindness and her gentleness and how she always thought of others before herself. He remembered when he had taught her to dance and the intense joy that lit up her face when she discovered how much she loved it. And how naturally she took to the floor--graceful, quick, and light. He remembered the way her hands felt in his: strong and gentle, soft and firm. He remembered how her scarf’s smell reflected her: sweet and comforting—like you could wrap yourself up in it and never again have a care in the world. He remembered how he had come to love her: imperceptibly slow at first, and then one day realizing that he couldn’t imagine life without her. He remembered how she had become best friends with a boy. And he remembered how the boy had changed her. He remembered the confused look on her brow as she wrestled with giving up everything she knew. He remembered her asking him how he had held onto his faith despite everything he had learned. And he remembered not knowing how to reply and knowing that he might forever regret it. He remembered the long phone conversations during the summer nights on the hood of a car, watching the stars come out and knowing that she could see them too. He remembered the sad, hopelessness that crept into her voice as the summer went on, but not knowing how to help stop it. He remembered praying desperately to an invisibly present God, begging him to step into her life and bring her back her joy. He remembered watching as his prayers went seemingly unanswered and she fell deeper and deeper into the darkness of despair. He remembered the lifeless look in her eyes that occasionally gave way to sadness. He remembered how she had furtively searched his face to recoup her loss--“to ease the pain of this world”[22]--but to no avail. He remembered the stories of the drugs, the alcohol, and the sleepless nights that plunged her deeper into depression. He remembered the nightmares that plagued him with the fear of losing her and others whom he loved. He remembered the way she distanced herself from him--losing herself in the interminable darkness of her own mind--and how not even a needed hug or honest conversation could truly bring them together again. He remembered the taste of salt from nights of tears and pleading with God. And he remembered the night his prayers began to be answered: the night she told him she was going to be “ok,” and meant it. Yes, he remembered. The depression. The heartache. The faith. He remembered everything, and he loved her.

“Deliver those who are drawn toward death,

and hold back those stumbling to the slaughter.”

-Proverbs 24:11 (NKJV)

***

“agnostic”

fingers strong and light

a smile in your eyes

innocence so graceful

quick to learn to fly

 

mind always searching

muffled inner cry

wings now rarely used

please just stay alive

***

“He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how.”

-Nietzsche

“Thou shalt not kill.” Compared to many of the other commandments, the sixth doesn’t seem like such a difficult command to follow. But when you look at the data, it’s incredible how hard this command really is. Wars alone killed over 160 million people during the 20th century. Over 16,000 U.S. citizens die by murder each year, and even more tragically, over 44,000 by suicide. As Wright Morris would say of even one death, “That’s a miserable loss.”[23] Although I know that death is a natural process of life, I still believe that taking it unnecessarily is wrong. Life truly is precious and whether it’s your life or the life of someone on the other side of the world, I still believe that we must do what we can to protect it at all costs. We each only have one life. Even as Frankel’s Jews were able to find a reason to live so that they could find a way to survive the terrors of the Holocaust,[24] we too can--must--find a reason to live so that we can continue to find a way to live despite the terrors of our own lives.

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______. Hacksaw Ridge, directed by Mel Gibson (2016; Worldwide: Summit Entertainment, 

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______. "The Purchase of Defense Bonds." Review and Herald 119, no. 28 (1942): 16.

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References

[1] Plato, The Republic: Book 1. Taken from Plato in Twelve Volumes, Vols. 5 & 6 translated by Paul Shorey. (Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press; London, William Heinemann Ltd. (1969)): [section 335e]. 

[2] William Stafford, The Darkness Around Us Is Deep. (Edited by Robert Bly. New York: Harper Collins Publishers / Perennial, (1994)), 117.

[3] Hacksaw Ridge, directed by Mel Gibson (2016; Worldwide: Summit Entertainment, 2017.), Theater.

[4] Stafford, The Darkness Around Us Is Deep, 116.

[5] Ellen White, Testimonies for the Church: Volume 1 (Mountain View: Pacific Press Publishing Association, 1885), 361

[6] Lawson, “Onward Christian Soldiers,” 197-98.

[7] Lawson, “Onward Christian Soldiers,” 198-99.

[8] Douglas Morgan, Adventism and the American Republic: The Public Involvement of a Major Apocalyptic Movement. (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 2001), 92.

[9] Morgan, “Between Pacifism and Patriotism,” under “Noncombatancy as Conscientious Cooperation, 1915-1950.”

[10] Ibid.

[11] J.P. Neff, Our Youth in Time of War (Takoma Park, Washington, D.C.: Review and Herald Publishing Association, 1934), 6.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Morgan, Adventism and the American Republic, 93.

[14] Morgan, “Between Pacifism and Patriotism,” under “Noncombatancy as Conscientious Cooperation, 1915-1950.”

[15] Ibid.

[16] Wright Morris, Collected Stories: 1948-1986. (New York: Harper and Row., 1986), 159.

[17] Stafford, The Darkness Around Us Is Deep, xxi.

[18] Victor E. Frankl, Foreword by Harold S. Kushner, and Afterword by William J. Winslade. Man's Search for Meaning. (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2006).

[19] Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning, 86. 

[20] Sherlock: The Lying Detective. (Directed by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. Performed by Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman. England: BBC, 2017). Television.

[21] _______, "Ernest M. Hemingway." Poetry Foundation. Accessed March 02, 2017. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poets/detail/ernest-m-hemingway., par. 1. 

[22] Morris, Collected Stories: 1948-1986, 156.

[23] Ibid., 159.

[24] Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning.