Nonviolence and the Inner Voice

Last year, I wrote an article in which I explained how I tried to live
nonviolence as a way of life.1 Given the responses to that article and the
ongoing interest in this topic, I decided to share more of my ongoing efforts
to listen to the'inner voice'. I hope that this will encourage others to
learn to listen to their 'inner voice' and to record their efforts as well.

So what is the 'inner voice'?
According to Gandhi, humans can respond to 'the call of the spirit' and rise
above selfishness and violence.2 Moreover, this is necessary in the quest for
self-realisation. Self-realisation, as the Gandhian scholar Arne Naess
explains it, "involves realising oneself as an autonomous, fully responsible
person".3 This quest is an individual one that relies on nonviolence,
self-reliance, and the search for truth. "To find Truth completely is to
realize oneself and one's destiny".4 But what should guide this search?
According to Gandhi, It can only be the individual conscience: The 'inner
voice' must always be "the final arbiter when there is a conflict of duty".5
And in his view, "the voice of God, of Conscience, of Truth or the Inner
Voice or "the still small Voice" mean one and the same thing".6

This point is centrally important, because the usual descriptions of Gandhian
nonviolence stress its morality, humility, and sacrifice while neglecting the
fundamental norm "that you should follow your inner voice whatever the
consequences"7 and "even at the risk of being misunderstood".8 

For me, the inner voice has many facets. It is not just my intuition: that
part of me that guides me when the way forward is not otherwise clear. It is
not just my unconscious: that part of me that contains my truest and deepest
feelings, and that sometimes presents these feelings in the form of dreams.
It is not just my conscience: that part of me that compels me to act, as best
I can, truthfully, compassionately and with justice. My inner voice is a
combination of all of these things, but it is much, much more. It is also
that part of me that offers insights, primarily about myself, from the
accumulated wisdom of the Universe, because the spiritual path that I have
chosen enhances and enriches my sense of connection with the life-force that
unites us all. This, of course, is my birthright, just as it is the
birthright of anyone else who is willing to explore the limits of their own
unique path to self-realisation. 

Learning to listen to my inner voice has required more self-discipline and
conscientious effort than all other areas of my life combined. It has also
required considerable courage and a willingness to make (what some people
might consider) a variety of 'sacrifices'. Nevertheless, the rewards have
been great, because developing the self-discipline to act out the dictates of
my inner voice has significantly enhanced my personal and political power.

So that recent events and changes in my life make more sense, let me start
with some background.

When I was about nineteen, I decided that I would never accept full-time
employment for which I was paid a wage. I made this decision because I knew,
somehow, that I was supposed to do something 'to make the world a better
place'. I did not know what that work was meant to be and (although I will
not tell that part of the story here) it took many years for the nature of my
work to become clearer. Thus, from the time when I was an undergraduate
student at university until I was 28, I essentially completed an economics
and politics degree, some postgraduate study, and then spent five and a half
years as Honorary State Secretary of The Royal Life Saving Society -
Australia, Victoria Branch. Although I worked forty to sixty hours a week for
the RLSSA from 1975-1981, I was not paid. Throughout this period I had a
series of casual or part-time jobs (mainly as a swimming teacher and
lifesaving coach) to pay my way. In essence, the reason why I did not want
full-time paid employment was because I realised that by undertaking such
employment I ran the risk of being caught up in the mainstream lifestyle that
involved income dependence, asset accumulation, mortgage payments and
conspicuous consumption. Thus, although I lacked clarity about what I was
supposed to do with my life, I knew that the risk of accepting full-time
employment (which, in the 1970s, was the norm), was that it might
conservatise me in the same way that it had conservatised the people around
me at that time.

From 1981 until 1994, I continued to work in casual or part-time employment;
for example, I helped to research and write a lifesaving book and, from 1989
until 1994, I taught casually at a university. But, in response to a strong
conviction that developed during the early months of 1994, I felt compelled
to resign this casual teaching appointment at the end of first semester. As
this work paid for about a third of my annual expenditure and I had no other
regular employment at the time, I was interested to fully understand why the
urge to resign had been so strong. But that information was not to be
revealed for some time. 

During the period of research and writing that I undertook from April 1991 to
July 1993, it became increasingly clear to me that I needed another period of
intense personal reflection, and that this would occur sometime after I
finished writing. As it turned out, much of what happened during the period
from July 1993 until a year later became important elements of my reflection
during the period of introspection that took place from August to November
1994. During this period I did my usual administrative work (for the Centre
for Nonviolence, for example) and nonviolence teaching, but found that I was
incapable of doing the creative work (especially the research and writing
about nonviolence) that I would normally do. Instead, I spent the time on
some serious reflection about myself and the future. It was an extremely
rewarding time: meditating, reading (inspirational words by Gandhi and
others), reflecting and fasting. 

This period of three months led to some important new insights and
commitments, although, at the time, it was very confusing. My diary entry for
5 September 1994 notes that I am in a period during which my life is being
refocussed for greater clarity, and that some profound changes are in store;
it also notes that I do not yet know what these changes are, and that I sense
that these changes will be difficult and perhaps painful! 

The period seems to have started with a visit from my sister, Catherine, on 3
August. After hearing Cath talk about the value of meditation to her, I
finally decided to make meditation an ongoing and regular practice in my
life. I started the following morning and now meditate virtually every day.
Although I claim to be no more than a novice, this meditation has already had
obvious benefits. Apart from this, three other insights/commitments became
clear by early October 1994.

The second of these commitments was that I must strengthen three of my
existing personal vows: to be more truthful (with the ultimate aim of being
completely so), to eliminate swearing (part of my ongoing effort to make my
language more moderate and respectful), and to further simplify my material
life. This last vow led to the 'decision' to give away my car. Given the
number of years that I had been troubled by the ethics and ecological impact
of owning a car, the most notable thing about this 'decision' was the ease
with which it was made: the inner voice spoke, I simply obeyed. Although I
had thought about this decision for the previous week or more, it was
interesting to note my sense that I had not been consulted about it. 

Third, based partly on an analysis of my involvements during the year from
mid-1993 to mid-1994, I realised that most of my time should be spent either
working with (what seems to be) the small circle of people in Australia who
are already exploring the Gandhian conception of nonviolence, or writing
about this conception so that those who are interested, wherever they are,
can read more about it. This seems to me to be a much better use of my time
than trying, no matter how diplomatically, to convince people to explore the
deeper aspects of nonviolence. This greater clarity about my personal role
has already led me to decline participation in forums with audiences (ranging
from senior military officers to activist groups) that I know from past
experience to be relatively unresponsive to the message of nonviolence. Of
course, as a member of the nonviolence network, I will continue to play an
outreach role. But I will limit my high-energy involvements to those people
and groups with a demonstrated commitment to exploring the limits of
nonviolence.

The fourth major insight that emerged during this period was that I must have
faith that I will earn sufficient income doing my life's work without
reverting to mainstream employment that distracts me from it. After resigning
my casual appointment at the university in mid-1994, I had received no clear
indication from my inner voice about how I was to survive economically in the
future! Nevertheless, I chose to interpret the subsequent period of
stringency (which, in fact, was no different to many earlier periods) as a
test of my faith. The way I now see it is this: if I remain true to my life's
calling and make myself worthy of it, then my efforts to earn a living that
way (by, for example, securing a research grant) will eventually bear fruit.

In late October I injured my lower back. After careful reflection, again
inspired by my sister Cath, I chose to interpret this injury as a sign that I
must be more active in securing the means to support myself financially if I
am to be fully effective. So I prepared a very thorough research proposal (to
write a book about how nonviolent strategies might be used to prevent or halt
war, using the Gulf Peace Team experience as a case study) and submitted it
to two major funding organisations in the United States. 

Much more occurred during this period but I am sure that the essence of the
changes that took place is quite clear. As a result, and despite two bad
colds during this time (which I interpreted to be part of the process), I
became even more content about my life and its direction than I have ever
been.

An interesting point arose out of one of the grant applications. I had
applied for a grant to finance two years of research and writing on a
half-time basis, but one organisation wrote asking me to change my
application because their guidelines stipulated an eighteen month time limit.
The problem was that I knew that I could not complete the project in eighteen
months. After consulting several people with more experience in submitting
applications of this nature, my conscience compelled me to 'risk all' and be
completely truthful. I did this because I had reached the point where I
believe that the truth gets you what you are supposed to get, rather than
what you think you want. In other words, I believed that I would receive a
grant if I was supposed to get one, whatever guidelines or other impediments
apparently stood in my way, but that I would not get one if I was supposed to
do something else. In any case, it was only by telling the truth that I would
allow my destiny to fully unfold. 
Robert J. Burrowes

References
1. R. J. Burrowes. 'Nonviolence as a Way of Life'. Nonviolence Today. 38,
May/June 1994, 4-6.
2. M. K. Gandhi, in R. K. Prabhu and U. R. Rao, eds. The Mind of Mahatma
Gandhi. Rev. ed. Ahmedabad, India: Navajivan, 1967, 254-55. 
3. Arne Naess, Gandhi and Group Conflict: An Exploration of Satyagraha -
Theoretical Background. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1974, 68. 
4. M. K. Gandhi, 'Young India', 17 November 1921, in The Collected Works of
Mahatma Gandhi. 90 vols. New Delhi: Government of India, Publications
Division, 1958-84, XXI:457.
5. Gandhi, 'Young India', 4 August 1920, in Collected Works, XVIII:112. 
6. Gandhi, 'Harijan', 8 July 1933, in Collected Works, LV:255. 
7. Naess, Gandhi and Group Conflict, 98. 
8. Gandhi, 'Harijan', 30 September 1939, in Collected Works, LXX:206.