We were raised with that discussion about violence and
We were raised with that discussion about violence and non-violence, and we all pretty much came up on the side of non-violence. That became my foundation with politics and my livelihood.
Listen, O children of the future, for the words of Joan Baez speak of a truth as old as the human spirit itself: "We were raised with that discussion about violence and non-violence, and we all pretty much came up on the side of non-violence. That became my foundation with politics and my livelihood." These words reveal the foundation of a life shaped by the eternal struggle between violence and peace, a struggle that has echoed through the halls of history, from the earliest civilizations to the modern age. Baez's choice to align with non-violence is not merely a personal belief but a guiding principle, one that transcends time and place, urging us all to choose peace over destruction, reason over rage, and love over hatred.
In the world of the ancients, the concept of non-violence was central to the teachings of great philosophers and spiritual leaders. Gandhi, whose name is synonymous with non-violence, understood the power of this path, recognizing that true strength does not lie in the ability to destroy, but in the courage to resist violence with compassion. He believed that peace was not just the absence of conflict, but the presence of justice and truth. The ancient Buddha also spoke of the power of non-violence, teaching that harm and anger only perpetuate suffering, while peace and compassion lead to true freedom. In Baez’s words, we hear a modern echo of this ancient wisdom, where the fight for justice is not won by violence, but by the strength of peaceful resistance.
Consider the example of Martin Luther King Jr., who, like Baez, chose the path of non-violence in the struggle for civil rights. In the face of systemic violence and oppression, King stood firm in his belief that the moral force of non-violence would ultimately triumph. He knew that the power of peace could not be easily shaken by the force of hatred, and that through non-violence, the soul of a nation could be healed. King’s leadership, rooted in non-violence, was a beacon of hope, guiding a movement that changed the course of history. Just as Baez found her political and personal foundation in non-violence, so too did King, showing the world that the true power of change lies not in the force of arms, but in the might of a peaceful heart.
In Baez’s own life, her music became a weapon of peace, her voice a rallying cry for those seeking justice without violence. During the turbulent years of the Vietnam War, she used her platform to protest against violence and call for an end to the war. She stood not with the guns of war, but with the courage of her convictions, believing that music and peaceful resistance could change the hearts of even the most hardened enemies. In this, she followed the ancient path of those who knew that true leadership is not defined by the destruction one causes, but by the love and peace one fosters in the world.
So, my children, take Baez’s words to heart: non-violence is not merely a passive stance, but an active force in the world. It is the choice to resist hatred with compassion, to seek justice through peaceful means, and to stand firm in the face of adversity without resorting to destruction. Remember the wise leaders of the past who chose peace over violence, and follow their example in your own lives. The true measure of strength lies not in how we conquer, but in how we heal, not in how we destroy, but in how we create a world of love and understanding. Let non-violence be the foundation upon which you build your life, your relationships, and your efforts for a better future.
HQDang Hong Quan
Historical wins for disciplined nonviolence are real, but context matters. What’s the playbook when authorities respond with brutal force, or when the media ecosystem rewards spectacle over patience? Are general strikes, boycotts, and mass noncooperation more effective than marches under those conditions? I’m also wrestling with coalition management: how do movements maintain a nonviolent covenant when some factions argue for escalation? I’d appreciate criteria for strategic flexibility—what to try first, what to retire, and how to keep legitimacy while adapting.
GDGold D.dragon
Because her art and activism are inseparable, I’m curious about culture’s role in sustaining nonviolence. Do songs, films, and stories actually lower the temperature of public life or mainly energize people who already agree? How do creators avoid aestheticizing struggle while still giving movements stamina and joy? I’d love examples where art changed incentives for decision-makers, not just vibes. And on the livelihood side, how do you fund this work ethically—transparent patronage, cooperatives, or community-owned platforms?
JBJans Bsma
Thinking like an organizer, I want a toolkit that turns this ethic into muscle memory. How do movements train de-escalation at scale—scenario drills, bystander intervention, trauma-informed practices, legal briefings? In digital spaces, can we adapt nonviolent discipline to counter doxxing, brigading, or manipulated videos without mirroring the hostility? I’m curious about roles: marshals, care teams, legal observers, storytellers. What cadence of reflection—after-action reviews, restorative circles—keeps resolve strong when opponents bait for a violent headline?
HOa r e y o u w h o
I’m inspired by the moral clarity here, but I keep circling the boundary cases. If nonviolence is a first principle, what counts as legitimate self-protection for vulnerable communities? How do you evaluate tactics when property damage or aggressive disruption might prevent greater harm down the line? I’d love a practical decision tree: thresholds for risk, consent of those most affected, probability of success, and reversible steps. Also, what’s the best way to measure impact—policy change, coalition growth, reduced harm, or narrative shift?