Comments
GUEST COMMENTARY - The 21st century is on fire. From Gaza to Ukraine, from mass shootings to nuclear brinkmanship, violence dominates the headlines. Entire nations operate on the belief that security comes through the ability to destroy. And for many, the idea of nonviolence seems hopelessly naïve—an ideal fit for saints, not for a world ruled by warlords, cartels, and demagogues.
But what if the choice isn’t between nonviolence and pragmatism, but between nonviolence and annihilation? Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. put it bluntly: “It is either nonviolence or nonexistence.” The world today, armed with nuclear weapons and plagued by ceaseless cycles of retaliation, makes that choice clearer than ever. And no one embodied the radical power of nonviolence more than Mahatma Gandhi.
Gandhi’s commitment to truth and nonviolence wasn’t abstract philosophy—it was a political weapon, one that dismantled an empire. He believed that truth was absolute, not a matter of perspective. To live truthfully meant refusing to cooperate with injustice, even at great personal cost. But can his principles hold up in an era of ISIS, Hamas, Putin’s war machine, and nuclear proliferation?
Consider one of the most brutal and intractable conflicts of our time: Israel and Palestine. In October 2023, Hamas launched a deadly attack on Israeli civilians, and Israel responded with overwhelming military force, killing thousands in Gaza. Each side sees itself as a victim, each justifies its violence as self-defense. The same pattern repeats in Ukraine, where Russia, under Vladimir Putin, wages an imperialist war, and Ukraine, outgunned but defiant, fights back with Western weapons.
Would Gandhi’s approach work here? Could nonviolence survive against an enemy that recognizes no moral restraint?
The knee-jerk answer is no. But Gandhi never said nonviolence was easy or risk-free. During India’s independence struggle, he led thousands into the streets knowing they would be beaten, jailed, or killed. His Salt March of 1930 was a direct challenge to British colonial rule—unarmed protesters walked miles to the Arabian Sea to make their own salt, breaking the British monopoly. They were met with brutal police violence. They didn’t fight back. But their sacrifice exposed the empire’s moral bankruptcy. The world watched. The movement grew. And in the end, nonviolence won.
Could the same strategy work in Palestine? In Ukraine? Perhaps not in the same way. But history suggests that violent resistance only fuels more violence. Hamas’s attack provoked a war that devastated Gaza. Ukraine’s military resistance, while justified in self-defense, has led to mass destruction. If victory means total annihilation of the other, no one wins.
Gandhi’s lesson is clear: nonviolence isn’t about avoiding conflict—it’s about changing the terms of the conflict itself. It is about resisting without becoming the thing you hate.
There are now enough nuclear weapons in the world to destroy civilization many times over. The logic behind them is simple: If you can destroy me, and I can destroy you, we will both stay in check. It’s a policy built entirely on fear.
But fear is an unstable foundation for peace. History has come close to proving that. The Cuban Missile Crisis nearly sparked global nuclear war. Today, Russia threatens nuclear escalation in Ukraine. Israel keeps its nuclear arsenal hidden but ever-ready. North Korea and Iran inch closer to the bomb.
Gandhi warned against this logic long before nuclear weapons existed. He argued that true security doesn’t come from the ability to destroy, but from justice. When people feel secure—not through force, but through fairness—violence loses its grip. This applies globally and personally. It’s why nations that prioritize diplomacy over war tend to be the most stable. It’s why societies that invest in social trust rather than militarization are the safest.
It is easy to look at the state of the world and feel powerless, to think that nonviolence belongs only to great movements of history. But Gandhi never saw it that way. Nonviolence, he insisted, begins with truth, and truth begins with the individual. Before anyone can challenge the world’s injustices, they must commit to truth in their own lives. That means refusing to spread misinformation, even when it supports our side. It means speaking honestly, even when it’s inconvenient. It means aligning our actions with our values—whether in the workplace, in relationships, or in activism. The world will not change if we live in contradiction.
Resisting violence in thought, word, and action is harder than it seems. It requires recognizing when anger or hatred are shaping our thinking, refusing to let them take hold, and instead practicing deep understanding. It means avoiding speech that dehumanizes others, gossip that poisons communities, or rhetoric that escalates conflict. It means finding ways to resolve disputes peacefully, even when provoked.
None of this means passivity. Gandhi was never passive. Resistance is necessary, but it must be the right kind. It is the kind that refuses to let power and violence dictate the terms of the fight. At work, that means speaking up against unethical behavior and advocating for fairness. In the community, it means supporting organizations that fight for justice—racial, economic, and environmental. In politics, it means demanding policies that prioritize human dignity over fear and militarization.
One of the most radical things a person can do in a divided world is to engage with people they disagree with—not to win an argument, but to understand. It is much easier to caricature an enemy than to listen. But listening, genuine listening, is the beginning of transformation. When we engage with people across political, religious, and ideological divides, when we search for even the smallest common ground, we create the possibility of change.
I recognize and confess that I need to work on this in my own life. There are individuals whose views I find loathsome. I believe they are wrong—sometimes dangerously so. But when I shut them out, when I dismiss them as stupid or evil, I am sowing the same seeds of violence I claim to oppose.
At the heart of nonviolence is a rejection of fear and scarcity. Nations hoard nuclear weapons because they believe security comes from the ability to destroy. People hoard wealth because they believe there isn’t enough for everyone. But Gandhi’s philosophy was rooted in trust and abundance. He knew that true security comes not from hoarding power, but from building systems where no one needs to fight for survival.
Gandhi never said nonviolence was easy. He practiced it knowing that it required courage, patience, and sacrifice. The real challenge is this: Can we hold onto truth even when it doesn’t give us immediate results? Will we choose peace even when the world tells us war is the only option?
Nonviolence isn’t about waiting for the world to change. It’s about being the change, moment by moment.
The choice remains: nonviolence or nonexistence.
Gandhi made his decision. What will ours be?
(George Cassidy Payne is a writer, educator, and advocate for nonviolence, democracy, and social justice. With a background in philosophy, crisis intervention, and community organizing, he has taught ethics and worked extensively in conflict resolution. He currently serves as a creative strategist at Agape Haven of Abundance, supporting young women of color through education and cultural enrichment.)
