Resiliency building and Peace building

Last week on NPR Morning Edition, there was a series of interviews with Stephen Flynn, author of the new book, The Edge of Disaster: Rebuilding a Resilient Nation. His focus on preparing for the aftermath of a disaster, be it another Katrina, or another 9/11, made me think about the philosophy and theology behind the Mennonite Disaster Service (and the Church of the Brethren Disaster Response, and the Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, etc.).

Flynn’s approach is realistic, in that not all disasters are preventable, such as Katrina, and to put all our hopes in preemptive wars to protect us from another 9/11 (“fight them there so we don’t have to fight them here”) is misguided. As a pacifist, I would like to promote all the arguments against war, but it had not occurred to me that building resilience from disaster is a valid form of peace building, as well.

When we consider the links of Global Warming, Climate Change, economic development, fossil fuel consumption, etc., we are conscious of human activities which may have contributed to the intensity of Hurricane Katrina. And our neglect of the New Orleans levies, and a workable evacuation plan, exacerbated the loss of life and property from Katrina. So resiliency alone should not be our sole focus. Prevention has its place, in all things, as in using seat belts and driving sensibly, but when accidents happen, we need emergency rooms, ambulances, blood banks, etc.

Just because we have hospitals and ER’s, can we ignore driver education, stop enforcing speed limits, eliminate helmet laws, etc.? By the same token, just because we build our resiliency for another Katrina or another 9/11, can we stop working for Global Cooling, or withdraw from the United Nations, or (this is hard for me to consider) unilaterally disarm?

Christian pacifists by definition probably believe in disarmament, and even most would acknowledge the consistency of unilateral disarmament with Christ’s example and teachings. But just as most Christian pacifists oppose capital punishment, even though Christ himself submitted to it, it may be argued that maintaining a military for self-defense is a valid method for ensuring resiliency of the nation. To the extent that Christ’s teachings are pragmatic more than dogmatic, Christian pacifists may follow his example.

I am afraid my thinking about disarmament is still a little muddled, but I do think I have a clear idea about resiliency and printing. What do we have available if the internet and phone lines and radio/TV are disabled for a time? We might need to revert to an earlier technology for communication: printing. And what if the chemical industry is shut down, and the chemicals needed for modern offset printing are not available? We still have letterpress printing, which dates to Gutenberg in the 15th century and before. So the 20th century Heidelberg letterpress which I have in my garage, is my contribution to resiliency and available for use in certain future disasters. It would be nice to retrofit it for manual operation in case electricity is not available, but it can be used as is with a person simply turning the flywheel by hand. I have only a finite amount of paper and ink, but other printers (and offices with paper for copy machines) could be called on as sources for paper and ink.

Along this same line, we may think of earlier technologies as a general source for resiliency for many services and goods. The tools and knowledge for these earlier technologies need to be preserved. This, too, is resiliency building and thereby peace building.

Post-Traumatic Stress and Depleted Uranium

Is there such a thing as Pre-Traumatic Non-Stress?

If we suspect the judgment of people who have experienced trauma, shouldn’t we also question those who have led a sheltered life?

Those who advocate for the use of force, who believe in the value of the death penalty, who believe that “sparing the rod spoils the child,” who having been victims of child abuse become child abusers themselves as adults, etc. — isn’t their judgment suspect by those of us who benefitted from a sheltered childhood and adulthood?

And likewise, those who advocate for non-violence, who oppose the death penalty, who believe in “time out” instead of spanking, who have never suffered abuse or witnessed it and whose relationships with other human beings are always peaceful and wholesome, etc. — isn’t their judgment suspect by the rest of society?

The point is, what is the ideal background and experience that confers wisdom and sound judgment on a person? We think we know what first-hand experiences we should avoid — child abuse, incest, kidnapping, rape, warfare, torture, auto accidents, plane crashes, fire, hurricanes, floods, earth quakes, etc. People that survive these traumas may be “damaged” and have impaired judgment the rest of their lives.

But doesn’t having been sheltered from everything make for naivete´? Can’t one be accused of “ivory tower” idealism and easily be dismissed from serious discussions about crime and punishment, ware and peace, deterrence and disarmament, negotiation and preconditions, regulations and privatization. Can a pacifist be taken seriously who objects to a particular weapon system? Can a recovering alcoholic have a legitimate opinion about prohibitionism? Can a gay person’s opinion about gay marriage carry weight with straight people?

I’m really interested in the impulse toward pacifism, and wonder if there is a peculiar environment which produces pacifists (like there may be which produces alcoholics or gays) which makes us discount their opinions. Do we say to ourselves, they can believe that way because they have the luxury of never having to defend themselves from a bully when they were growing up, or their fathers and uncles were never in the military, or their own experience in the military gave them post-traumatic stress, etc. We can always explain away why their opinion differs from ours, but can we say that we are right and they are wrong?

Trying to psychoanalyze those with whom we disagree can be an endless exercise of self-assurance, but what if we slip into analyzing ourselves? Don’t we see the same gaps or traumas in our own lives? Don’t we see why it looks suspicious to outsiders that we advocate something because it fits our experience and our desire for self-validation?

If we come from a background of pacifism and we oppose the use of depleted uranium in weapons, aren’t we immediately suspect as pacifists that, of course, we oppose all weapons anyway? Why would any “neutral” person take us seriously? But wouldn’t a neutral person admit that there may be “good” weapons and “bad” weapons, that even in warfare, there could be such things as “war crimes”? I think this neutral person would listen to the arguments, consider the facts, hear “both” sides, and make a neutral judgment.

It may be that advocates for a particular policy may be partisan and committed to their conclusions and shaped by their backgrounds and experiences (or from being sheltered from some experiences). And advocates for a different policy may be driven by selfish reasons, business or career reasons, desire for revenge, hatred for the “enemy,” etc. Still a neutral observer could sort this all out, and make a judgment on sheerly pragmatic grounds.