Nonviolence as a Way Of Life

Recently I spent a week in Brisbane. I had been invited by Ralph Summy to
conduct two lectures and a seminar at the University of Queensland. While I
was in Brisbane, Jan McNicol also arranged for me to conduct a one-day
nonviolence workshop for local activists. These sessions and the many
meetings I had with Brisbane people were ample evidence that interest in
nonviolence is accelerating rapidly in Australia and that the work we are
doing to make the Australian Nonviolence Network more effective is vitally
important. The success of the week was also testimony to the valuable work
being done - in different contexts - by people such as Ralph and Jan.

Ralph is the only academic in Australia who teaches University subjects which
concentrate on nonviolence. Consequently, two of the sessions presented good
opportunities to discuss 'more advanced' themes. For the lecture to the
second year class - 'Politics of Nonviolent Change' - he asked me to talk
about the strategy of nonviolent defence. For the Departmental seminar, we
agreed that I should talk about nonviolent interposition using my slides and
experience of the Gulf Peace Team to illustrate the discussion. But for the
150 students in his first year class - 'Introduction to Peace and Conflict
Analysis' - Ralph simply asked me to talk about how my personal life and
political activism are entwined.

In response to his request, I started the lecture by speaking briefly about
my political activism - referring to my involvements in war tax resistance
and the Melbourne Rainforest Action Group - and mentioning some of its
outcomes such as the jail sentences and the bankruptcy. But after this brief
introduction, I spoke about the changes I had made to my personal life as an
expression of my political activism. I have thought deeply about this subject
for many years and have discussed it recently with several people including
Neville Watson (Perth), Jan McNicol and Dave Keenan (Brisbane), Glen Alderson
(Commonground) and Margaret Pestorius (Melbourne).

Why do I think that the personal components of my life as an activist are so
important? In essence, it is because I believe that if I want to change the
world, I must change myself. This is because I am part of the world.
Moreover, I am that part of the world which I can change the most. But there
is more to it than this. According to my analysis, the personal behaviours
(including the sexism, racism and consumerism) of most western people are
generated by the political and economic structures of the 'old world' that I
am trying to change. By refusing to engage in behaviours which serve to
reinforce these exploitative structures, I am helping to destroy them. For me
then, a change in personal behaviour is an overtly political act. So what
have I changed?

What have I changed?
I have changed many things in my personal life: too many to discuss here.
But, importantly, they include the following. Firstly, I have been learning -
slowly and sometimes painfully - to tell the truth. This is not always easy
and I find it particularly difficult to eliminate some forms of exaggeration,
the temptation to tell 'white lies' (especially when they would serve to
avoid hurting other peoples' feelings) and the tendency to skirt complete
honesty when to be so would reveal my thoughtlessness, incompetence or
immorality. Unlike the village culture of Gandhi's early years which valued
truth very highly, the dominant culture in our society - despite rhetoric to
the contrary - places little value on it. In this context, telling the truth
in all circumstances does not necessarily come easily. But I am trying.

Secondly, I am learning to deal creatively with conflict in my personal life.
This also is not easy but I am learning to do it by practicing the use of
certain tools. For example, I have spent much time over the past few years
learning how to reflectively listen (which I don't always do as patiently as
I might), practising the use of 'I' statements (in which I try to reflect how
I feel about a certain behaviour without making derogatory comments about the
person using the behaviour) and by being courageous and persistent (despite
the many uncomfortable feelings which often come up for me during a personal
conflict). Of course, dealing with conflict in my personal life is good
practice for dealing creatively with political opponents - particularly if
they happen to be outraged at the time!

Thirdly, I am learning to respect others more deeply; that is, to refrain
from the use of manipulative, exploitative, coercive or violent behaviour in
my personal relationships. Given its many dimensions, this is hard work! For
example, I am learning to use non-sexist behaviours. This means that I have
been systematically eliminating my use of sexist language, I do not use
pornography, I do my share of the housework (cooking, cleaning and shopping)
and, importantly, I am learning to listen more deeply to women. I am also
learning to use non-racist and non-speciesist behaviours. This is why I
acknowledge Aboriginal sovereignty (and pay the rent for my use of Aboriginal
land) and why I am a vegetarian.

Fourthly, I am learning to reduce my personal consumption and to make myself
more self-reliant. While I still use a range of household consumer goods as
well as a computer, I have learned to do without many other consumer items
and (if anyone hadn't noticed) a fashion-conscious wardrobe. I still drive a
car more often than I would like (and justify keeping it because of its value
to the Network). I realise that I will be able to make much more progress in
this area of my personal life when I live in a (physically established)
nonviolent community.

And fifthly, I nurture myself intellectually, emotionally, spiritually and
physically. In relation to the latter, I have long practised living a healthy
lifestyle: I eat healthy (mainly organic) vegetarian food, I do not drink
alcohol or use drugs, I exercise regularly and I get enough sleep. Sometime
in the future, I will find the time to take up meditation!

How have I changed?
While it is relatively easy to identify the changes in these and other
aspects of my personal life, it is less easy to explain how I have changed
myself. But, in essence, there have been four critical factors which have
facilitated these changes. Firstly, my analysis of the world led me to
realise the important connection between my personal life and my political
activism and, given my commitment to reshaping the world, I realised that I
must be equally determined to reshape myself. I might add that, given the
difficulties I have experienced in reshaping myself, I more fully (and
respectfully) appreciate why it is so difficult for others to change.

Secondly, I have changed myself by getting back in touch with my emotions
(and thus reversing the patriarchal socialisation that taught me to shut out
my feelings). This means that I let myself feel my anger, my sadness and my
despair - as well as my joy - and I 'go with' these feelings (even if it
means that I must stop work!). By doing this, I am able to learn what these
feelings are trying to tell me so that I can integrate these insights into
what I do.

Thirdly, I have changed myself by getting in touch with my spirituality
(which I eventually discovered is unrelated to those sterile religious
practices to which I was subjected as a child). In practice, this means that
I try to act out my belief in the sacredness and unity of all life.

And fourthly, I have changed myself by consciously choosing a set of
principles to guide my life, by developing the self-discipline necessary to
live by these principles and by reinforcing this self-discipline through the
use of personal vows. The principles - reflected in the changes noted above -
include a commitment to practice telling the truth, to deal creatively with
conflict, to respect others, to reduce my personal consumption and to nurture
myself wholistically.

In my case, developing the self-discipline necessary to live by my principles
- a difficult task in our hedonistic society - has been a patient and gradual
process. Typically, I choose an important facet of my personal behaviour that
I want to change and then systematically create circumstances which allow me
to implement and practice the change. In this way, I am able to create a new
habit which becomes 'second nature' to my way of life. For example, when I
decided that I wanted to become a vegan, I bought vegan food, acquired or
invented some (simple) vegan recipes and practiced cooking vegan food. It is
years since I have given second thought to what or how to cook (which does
not mean that I have the flashest range of recipes in Melbourne).

There are some circumstances, however, in which I have found that developing
self-discipline requires reinforcement through the use of personal vows. If I
am finding that my commitment to do something is wavering or difficult to
maintain, then I make a solemn and sincere promise to myself to live by a
certain principle. For example, given the lure of pornography, I had to make
a solemn vow that I would not use it. If I make a solemn vow - which means
searching my conscience in relation to the issue and then taking the time to
define my commitment carefully - I find it easier to adhere to my decision.

Finally, and notwithstanding what I have said above, if I fall short of my
own expectations (which happens often enough), I try not to castigate myself
too harshly. I gently remind myself that I am human and that I am working
against the tide of mainstream society. I then examine why I failed on this
occasion and I recommit myself for the future.

How do I know what to change?
While the sections above deal with difficult personal questions, there is a
third and much deeper dimension. How do I know what principles (and
behaviours) to adopt?

In my experience there have been many loud outside voices willing to tell me
what I should do. When I was young I listened to these voices because it
seemed the right thing to do. But as I grew older I realised that listening
to these outside voices - which speak the dogma of mainstream society and
which are mediated to me through the education system, the media as well as
my family and friends - seriously interfered with my capacity to make sound
judgments of my own; moreover, it was very disempowering. I eventually
realised that if I acted in response to these outside voices (such as those
of my parents) I would do little to change myself or the world. Gradually,
therefore, I realised that I needed to learn to listen to a voice that is far
more important: my own voice, the voice of my conscience. Learning to listen
and to act in accord with the voice of my own conscience - whatever the
consequences - has been the most liberating and empowering aspect of my
personal search and political activism. It was Gandhi who ultimately helped
me to understand this vital point.

Of course, understanding this point and putting it into practise are two very
different things. It has been a long and slow process learning to hear the
voice of my own conscience. In fact, given the persistence and volume of all
those outside voices - a loud and confusing chatter indeed! - it has taken me
a lot of practice to identify my own voice. And, I should add, it still does
not always speak with the clarity that I would like.

So how do I get in touch with my conscience? I do it by synthesising three
aspects of myself: the intellectual, the emotional and the spiritual. My
intellectual self includes that part of me which analyses the state of the
world (including some of the information provided by those outside voices)
and which plans strategies for making it more nonviolent. My emotional self
is that part of me which is in tune with how I feel about myself and the
world; moreover, it is my anger about what is happening (to the world) and my
passion to do something about it which gives me the determination and courage
to act. And my spiritual self is that part of me which understands -
intuitively - the unity of all life as well as the sacred nature of my
personal mission. It is when I integrate these three ways of knowing myself
and the world that I am most balanced personally and most effective
politically.

The reward for my years of practice in responding to my conscience is
twofold: it tells me what is right (with increasing clarity) and it gives me
the motivation and power to act. Thus, as a person, I am better able to
engage in the lifetime struggle to realise my true self. And, as an activist,
I am both clearer and more courageous about my activism. Moreover, it matters
less and less to me what others think about what I do; I am the only judge
who really counts.
Robert J. Burrowes