Reflections on Pacifism

A couple disclaimers: I've discovered that to reply to Derrick Jensen's premises alone presents some hefty work. I have a lot to say and quite the difficult time organizing how to say it. The university library nearby has a copy so I will soon look into the full scope of Endgame for myself, but other excerpts from the book are also available on the book's website. Since I have so much to say and have not found an easy way to communicate it, and also since I promised I'd be more consistent about posting, I'm going to pick the simplest and shortest of the premises and whittle away at that for you now. I don't have too too much to say about this premise, as I do about the others. I suppose as I read the book and see how Jensen expounds on these premises, I will have the ability to offer my response to the premises from another vantage point.

Premise Fifteen: Love does not imply pacifism.

I'd like to know exactly what Jensen intends to imply here. Does he mean to say that there are many different kinds of love, some mixed up, contentious, violent, conflictual, imbalanced, detached, overbearing, balanced, distant, unemotional, and on and on? When I sometimes indulge my cheesy side, I can still hear Edmund in the Mansfield Park movie declare, "There are as many kinds of love as there are moments in time." We can leap from disassociating love from pacifism to talking about domestic violence and other conflicted love/non-pacifism combinations. Would Jensen like to just hop on the bandwagon here and declare that love does not imply pacifism because a devoted husband can still turn and kill his wife in a rage, or vice versa?

Pacifism itself... Part of me definitely admires Dorothy Day's Catholic Worker movement; the long history of civil disobedience (connecting such figureheads as Jesus of Nazareth, Leo Tolstoy, Henry David Thoreau, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and their devotees); and the refrain of "Peace, love, and justice" that inspired so much enthusiastic protest and creative (though eventually it turned destructive, apathetic, meaningless, or ineffective) action in America during the sixties (with quite the lead-in from the fifties). There are some aspects of the hippie worldview that, in a certain light, on certain days, are pretty cool--groovy, even (My father and his students would like to bring back the word so there you have my little effort). However, I don't see violence as something to overcome, even as something to wish to overcome. I think the destructive impulse resides in each of us, and mostly, we just have to figure out how best to use that capacity, to understand why we choose to use it for whichever particular reason.

I did, in fact, at one point have little interest in hearing anything directed away from a goal of something akin to "Peace on earth (and mercy mild)." But then I read Ishmael, and just as the voice on the cover (Jim Britell of the Whole Earth Review) predicted, I would end up dividing my life up into the books "I read before Ishmael and those read after." Having read Ishmael, I saw everything I encountered through the vocabulary of concepts I had made acquaintance with in Quinn's work. Not only did I continue with a lifelong impulse to question everything (already enforced the same year I was introduced to Quinn by a reading of Plato's "Allegory of the Cave"), but I questioned everything through an anthropological, evolutionary lens, with the unassuming but explosive question, "What kinds of other ways to live did and do Leavers have that get obscured by 'one right way to live' thinking?" at the forefront. Violence was certainly an integral part of life for every human culture, in some form, for, after all, even incredibly pacifistic cultures have to fend for themselves and survive somehow (broader discussions of violence and survival arise here - more material for later!). Hence Quinn's "erratic retaliator" strategy (Also more on this later; You can pretty much assume that any concept I introduce which isn't common knowledge, or on which my take isn't fully clear, I will note the instance myself and come back to it with explanations later, in future posts, eventually). So is this what Jensen is getting at? Pacifism is not the ultimate, the grandest goal for humanity as a whole (Why humanity as a whole would need a common goal is beyond me anyway, at least nowadays, this many years post-Ishmael), the greatest bit of "progress." Love and pacifism are not synonymous. You can have love as an ideal without getting it mixed up with pacifism.

He could have intended so much by this teensy phrasing. And in the end, he does imply a boatload. So what does he mean by it? I will let you know once I latch onto a copy of the book!