By Michael Nagler, originally published at Waging Nonviolence, Sept. 26.
The execution last week of Troy Davis by the State of Georgia on the International Day of Peace was a painful blow to all sensitive people—really to all humanity, not to mention our prestige as a nation. Whatever may have been the “correctness” of the legal procedures leading up to it, it must seem to many no better than a legalized lynching.
Scholar René Girard, with his keen insights into the all-too-prevalent dynamic of scapegoating, ancient and modern (the latter more disguised but no less deadly), often cited lynching as a thinly disguised institutional form of that deadly reflex held over from (even) more barbaric times. By the sheer irrationality of its logic, the death penalty in the United States (and wherever else it is held over) must qualify as ritual. Homicides slightly increase in states where the penalty is reintroduced, and killing in order to show that killing is wrong does not deserve the name of logic.
A California prisoner not long ago who had gotten on in years waiting his turn on death row and had a heart condition by the time it came, told a guard on his way to his execution not to bother reviving him if he had an attack. “Of course we’ll revive you,” the official quickly rejoined, “we absolutely believe in the sanctity of life.”
In fact, we would maintain, all violence is irrational, which is why it is always counterproductive in the long run—and why it can be overcome despite its apparent ubiquity. Truth and nonviolence will overcome unreason and violence if we understand properly how to engage its power.
Just before he went to his death, Davis said to Edward Dubose, president of the Georgia chapter of the NAACP, that this fight is bigger than one person, “whether they execute him or whether he is freed, the fight must go on. Let this case be a crossroad.” If we can make it such, it will be a far better tribute than naming September 22nd after Troy Davis or any of the symbolic observances that have been suggested, however fitting and however much emotional satisfaction they would temporarily offer. Let us think how this could be such a crossroad.
A few weeks ago the death of a three-year-old child in Oakland, CA galvanized an entire neighborhood. Everyone pulled together and succeeded in stopping all violent crime for the time being, which in that neighborhood is an impressive achievement. Every now and then some tragedy, it is hard to predict when or how, wakes people up.
What if these healthy reactions were cumulative? What if, every time there was a salutary shock and a new set of people came to life they would not go back to complacency after the shock wore off but would add their creative energy to a growing movement? It’s not impossible. Gandhi actually felt it was a “law,” one of two that he discovered in his eight-year Satyagraha campaign to raise the dignity of the Indian communities of what is now South Africa—and by extension, he was well aware, their oppressors and eventually all of us. There is no limit to how small movements can start if they stay true to their cause, if it is just; and to their vision, if it is sufficiently inspiring, for if those conditions were met they would inevitably grow. He called it the “law of progression.”
The other was the “law of suffering,” that states that, as he put it, “things of fundamental importance to the people are not secured by reason alone but have to be purchased with their suffering… If you want something really important to be done you must not merely satisfy the reason, you must move the heart also.” We will get back to that law in a moment.
The secret of continuity, Gandhi discovered, is “Constructive Programme,” whereby people create parallel institutions if necessary and go on to create the world they want rather than, or alongside protesting the injustices they don’t want and expecting others, especially governments, to do it for them. Constructive programs not only build continuity but put a movement in a stronger position when the time does come for outright resistance.The spontaneous uprising of that Oakland neighborhood was a good, if only beginning example. If those of us who are grieving the death of Troy Davis and are no longer willing to put up with our constant failures to stop such atrocities would commit ourselves to staying together to learn all we can about nonviolent techniques, including the deeper philosophical meaning of nonviolence itself—how it implies a much higher image of the human being than our mass media culture allows—and settle down to a strategic vision for a long term solution, that would be a much bigger example.
I mentioned the “law of suffering.” The forces, mental and other, that cause people to cling to an outlandish, counterproductive form like the death penalty are very strong. At some point when our constructive program has matured—when, for example, we have built up model cases of restorative (rehabilitative) justice here and there and explained their logic to educators, the media, policy makers, and anyone listening—we will nonetheless have to put up a good nonviolent fight against the entrenched superstition around us. At that time we will have to do more than carry a sign and go home, more even than put up with police brutality as others of us are doing right now on Wall Street. We will have to be ready for serious risk in some well-chosen, strategic form.
With solid training and a robust constructive program behind us, with strategy and courage, one can hope that this “redemptive suffering,” as King put it, will be brief and effective. I may be overly ambitious, but I do not believe I am naïve in envisioning that such a movement could go from the barbaric death penalty to our bloated retributive justice system to war itself, carrying out what Troy Davis bequeathed to us in his last letter:
“So thank you and remember I am in a place where execution can only destroy your physical form but because of my faith in God, my family and all of you I have been spiritually free for some time and no matter what happens in the days, weeks to come, this Movement to end the death penalty, to seek true justice, to expose a system that fails to protect the innocent must be accelerated… This fight to end the death penalty is not won or lost through me but through our strength to move forward and save every innocent person in captivity around the globe… Never Stop Fighting for Justice and We Will Win!”
Unfortunately, the logic and meaning of “redemptive suffering” plays all too well and right into the hands of the criminal justice system. In order to have a sense for “redemption”, one must first have in mind a sense of absolute condemnation. In order for the spiritual program of redemption to operate, it seeks to keep a world together that is rife with absolute condemnation. This may not have been exactly the sense that King meant. But it is a sense that is so highly operative in the criminal justice system, which, by the way, is full of “spiritually freed” people, that it must, in my honest opinion, be questioned, for quite a number of reasons.
To question this, however, will refer one, invariably, considering the size and extent of the system in question, to more suffering and virtually every moment you recognize, but at another level, a level which may not either be obvious or one that is likely to dawn on many at all today. The death penalty thrives on the logics of redemption that populate the prevalent mind today. It circulates throughout our media, along with scapegoating and condemnation to an unprecedented degree. It feeds the death penalty culture. It secures the stasis of the logics of retributive justice, which merely bend like trees when the cold wind of such an execution as that of Troy Davis brings to the fore the injustices of the system, as if it were ever really just.
To question at this level is to question King, but, in the main, not Gandhi. Or, rather, to question them both. It is just that with King one finds the greatest importation of the problematic sensibility that populates the prisons and keeps them in place. I am sorry to say this. I know this puts me in an incredible minority. And I believe it calls for a thoughtaction and a satyagraha that is different from what has gone by heretofore.
While virtually everything you are advocating is to the good, and the connection with the possibilities of constructive programs are indeed emerging at least in the minds of the Occupation movement, it is unlikely that these things will herald real change if thought and action, truth and love (all independent and interconnected fundaments) can not take place in their proper levels. The decision as to the nature and space of this level can be found in Gandhiji’s basic position regarding religion as such: he held that were the religious teachers he held in esteem to not advocate nonviolence, he would hold to nonviolence. To begin to understand exactly what this means and entails is no trifling matter. With the experimental Gandhi, posture and the retention of the separation and interconnection of truth and nonviolence was paramount and a founding condition for the definite posture of experimentation with the truth that was one of his multiple, founding principles. The configuration of this constellation is systematically disrupted and conformed in King, whether one wishes to admit this or not. The price for this is paid daily, and the necessity for reckoning honestly and with respect, forbearance, courage, resoluteness, love and nonviolence at this level is the crisis of today.
As activists move forward yet again, we face the possibility that, like the protests of the wars in Iraq and the far less substantial protests of the far more lethal sanctions which eluded the minds of far too many for reasons intrinsically involved in this problematic, they will already bring with them a replication of many of the same subtending fundamental assumptions, priorities and general forms of justice. Just looking at calls for “equal justice” is enough to render this problem in a light of necessary suspicion. What is called justice?
Thought remains unfree and nonviolence remains unthought, action remains unthought while the divisions of the worlds of thought and action, theory and practice are maintained and even forced into greater stability in order to launch the “new”. But the new will not come from more action. It must arise from decisive thought. And thinking acts insofar as thinks. There is very little thinking going on today. Unfortunately, there is no way around identifying the same problems with religion that Gandhi felt a free and definite need to do. The significance of his stance on religious teachers, of placing Christ, for example, along side other teachers and not above all others, is generally unnoticed. It was no mere parenthesis for Gandhi. It was, rather, absolutely essential.
To begin to grasp what tran-spires in the “justice system” and justice logics circulating today requires a new spinning, of new threads altogether, threads that are more thoughtful, more conceptual, more engaged with the Truth of the day, to the point of putting Truth in its place: alongside nonviolence. When Gandhi looked for truth, nonviolence beckoned; when he looked for nonviolence, truth beckoned. This irreducible independence and inter-connection of the two is an absolute anathema for Kings religious commitments. I don’t mean to harp on King, let alone scapegoat him. And I really mean to point to the larger Zeitgeist of the day. This larger spirit of the times lacks these features: the independence of thought and the lack of the emergence of nonviolence as an independent, thematic substantive issue and fundament.
Your work is very good, in my opinion, in that it holds forth nonviolence with great persistence. It has the problem, however, of failing to realize this nonviolence on the necessary levels. I am saying this because this “failure” (probably a poor word to use) is omnipresent today. It is like scooping water out of a lake with a small cup while the lake itself is fed by a great river, and the cup you are using is made upstream in a factory that pollutes the river and strives above all to keep the dam in place creating the lake from which one scoops. The same goes for activism today. The most progressive activism is rife with logics of retribution, revenge and in many ways violence, even if nonviolence is used as a tactic often enough. Yet, one can see in the deliberate forcing of conflicts with the police a replication of the forced or imposed conflict in Iraq: the creation of an arena in which to “duke it out”, or for there to be more clearly defined struggle.
The thinking that illuminates such an imposition of arena must have within itself a concept of the arena or “arenaic” as such. It must have a concept of the mis en scene as such, along with the “theater” of war. It must be a conceptuality that is not simply employed. It must arise within a thinking that understands itself as thinking, and not merely some theory in service of practice. In this regard, one may see the actions of Gandhiji exemplary of precisely this: that his satyagraha was always at the same time “meditative”, as you say. Yet meditation in the world today must encounter conceptuality itself: it is not enough to use an Arendt quot as an epigram for one’s writing, for example; rather, the very traditions and assumptions of things like Arendt and many faith philosophies of “peace” must be encountered with a real and apparently new thoughtfulness. Without this, movements are destined to replicate the same. The intractable problems of the day, and the death penalty is just one of many, have shown above all just that: a strange intractability for which there is a great and strange tolerance, even as surges of activism strike out in hopes of change.
A new satyagraha must undertake a new “occupation” altogether. To be sure, a note may be taken from your seeing hope and strength in suffering, and in seeing that the miniscule may well hold within it powerful seeds of change. But it is necessary to plant those seeds on the right soil. New categories of understanding can not be avoided, any more than Gandhi could avoid spinning the new term, satya-agraha. To enter into such thinking is possible if one can find ones way in the steps of one’s thinking. I say this because I believe it is absolutely necessary for those who fall through the cracks of the great institutional absortions in the great persistent problems we face.
To think and act today requires these things. So I am saying what I think. I hope it does not offend. I think you can see, whether you agree or not, much in what I am saying that clearly affirms much of what you affirm, but I am pointing in directions that are not the usual, but which can be shown, I believe, again and again, to be the truth of the situation calling for a satyagraha of another kind.
In kindest regards and with deep respect,
Tom Blancto