Editor's note: This piece is part of a collection of essays that will be published under the title The Death of Memories and Children: Essays on the Iraq War. It was originally published in Mennonite Central Committee Peace Office newsletter, April-June (1999), pages 11-12 and is reprinted here by permission of the author and MCC. This article reminds us that the war against Iraq is ongoing, it was in 1991 when it caught the world's attention and it is going on in 2002 even though it no longer captures headlines. It is here to remind us that there are many times, places, situations and paths and where the peace testimony speaks to and through Friends.

great many of my thoughts and actions have been shaped by the Quaker community in which I live and breathe. And as I search for ways to help end the war against Iraq I often find myself, like Adam Curle, looking for another way to address positively this contemporary manifestation of mass violence.1 I am convinced that the eighteenth-century Quaker Jonathan Dymond is right when he says that "Christianity and war are at opposite ends of a balance."2

In a class that I taught at Menno Simons College/The University of Winnipeg on conflict, faith and community, students read several chapters from The Raft Is Not the Shore, a remarkable book that captures the conversations of Daniel Berrigan [a Catholic priest, poet and long time activist] and Thich Nhat Hanh [a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, poet and long time activist] in 1975. At a poignant moment, Berrigan reminds Nhat Hanh that Rabbi [Abraham Joshel] Heschel used to say, "The opposite of love is not violence; it is indifference."3 Heschel's observation captures for me the central dilemma we face in the global movement to end the war against Iraq.

Information is not the problem

It seems to me that the problem is not one of information and although there are some who disagree with me I continue to find that the information that we need to act is present; it is fully in our midst. It comes in a variety of forms . . . and there exist many astute political analyses which reveal the hypocrisies and dilemmas of trying to resolve this conflict at the intergovernmental level. Certainly we need these rational arguments, but they are not enough.

The social movement that has sprung up to end the war against Iraq, over the past 11[+] years, has also done a superb job of bringing the message of suffering home. One of the most effective forms this has taken has been the personal witnesses of those who travel to Iraq and return with their stories. This is a classic case of giving voice to those who have been silenced. These witnesses, too, have been present from the very beginning. Still, the war goes on and there is no end in sight. We also have a great deal of factual information, readily available to those who care to find it. Most recently, to give but one example, Denis Halliday, the former Assistant Secretary General of the United Nations, has provided an excellent account of the tragic conditions experienced by the people of Iraq.4 He stands in a long line of experts and other credible sources who have given us accurate information about child malnutrition, disease, poverty and social decay that accompany the Iraq War. The information is present and we have always had it.

Berrigan and Nhat Hanh believe that it is a questionable supposition to suggest that having the general population being informed "leads to more humane decisions or more enlightened politics on the part of those in power." They comment that "for 12 years we saw on our screens what we were doing to the Vietnamese people. It's very questionable that that changed anything."5 Clearly something more is needed to break open the heart of compassion-to create an environment where vast numbers of people see the evil in which they participate. For it is evil and nothing less.

The power of indifference

It would be a serious mistake, I think, to underestimate the power of indifference-indifference that has caused so many to turn a blind eye to genocide in the past and that now causes so many to turn a blind eye to the mass violence being visited upon men, women and children in Iraq.

The indifference we struggle to overcome is rooted in aggrandizement and fear. And these have been reinforced constantly by those in political power.

This aggrandizement is found in the way that the United States has taken on the uninvited role of the world's grand policeman; it is found in the resolutely unfair and biased enforcement of international laws that do exist-laws that are used against some who do not deserve to be singled out and not others who flagrantly break covenants, and how this in itself undermines the very rule of law. It is an aggrandizement in which we use more resources (like oil) than we are due, and casts a shadow over the poor and under-represented of the very region from whence we extract these resources. It is, finally, seen by how little we know of these people, except either as madmen or victims, and not as people with long histories, rich cultures, immense beauty and deep religious values.

Aggrandizement provides the context for under-lying arguments, rooted in fear, that have sustained this war against Iraq for 11[+] years. These arguments suggest that Saddam Hussein is a madman; that weapons of mass destruction could be unleashed upon us; and that international law may not be enforced-that chaos will reign. Of course, we are all afraid of madmen with weapons and no assurances of safety. But these arguments are nothing more than a smoke screen to keep us from seeing deeper truths; namely, that doing a great evil does not in any sense resolve a vexing problem.

It is precisely the attempt to break through this fear that we must focus on in all of our relief and education work.

Engaging in the suffering of others

The vital link to accomplish this task is found in our capacity to engage in the suffering of others; to extract ourselves from the spiritual depravity of our times. Surely this is the model that we have been given by truth-seekers throughout the centuries. In the sixth century BCE the Buddha proclaimed that all life is suffering, that that suffering is caused by constant craving and that suffering can stop when we travel the noble eightfold path. Tradition has it that some of his followers summarized that path by saying, "Do not do unto others, what you do not want done to yourself."

Six hundred years later, Jesus also proclaimed a message in which he embodied suffering and provided a path that we can follow to end suffering in this world. He summarized it by saying to his followers, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Whether it be the Buddha or the Christ, indifference is not an option. And any action rooted in compassion, however small or humble it may be, will contribute to ending the war against the men, women and children of Iraq.

Footnotes:

1 Adam Curle. 1995. Another Way: Positive Response to Contemporary Violence. Oxford: Jon Carpenter.

2 Jonathan Dymond. 1962. "War and Christianity Are . . . Opposite Ends of a Balance." In The Quaker Reader, edited by J. West, pp. 241-252. Wallingford: Pendle Hill Publications.

3 Daniel Berrigan and Thich Nhat Hanh. 1975. The Raft Is Not the Shore: Conversations Toward a Buddhist/Christian Awareness. Boston: Beacon Press, p. 21. Reprinted in 2001 by Orbis Books.

4 His resignation address given at Harvard University on November 5, 1998 remains a key moment in the history of the Iraq War. The resignation of his successor, Hans von Sponeck, has added significant weight to humanitarian concerns about Iraq.

5 Berrigan and Nhat Hanh, p. 70.

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