What will calm violence at home and abroad?

Carl S. Taylor | from the Christian Science Sentinel

Christ Jesus’ example shows that spiritual methods can defuse violence wherever it appears.

We were scholars from different disciplines discussing research on international terrorism. I couldn’t help thinking, though, about our own city streets and their pervasive local brand of terrorism. In the middle of a faculty meeting about applying for a research grant focused on global terrorism, I proposed that we include urban communities in our research, exploring possible connections between criminal enterprises in America and international terrorism.

I could understand when my colleagues decided to keep the focus on global issues, yet from my perspective both forms of violence share the same roots—and call for a unified cure.

My academic work, many years of street-level research, and my spiritual instincts all tell me that often, terrorism and criminal intent spring from the same seeds of discontent, nurtured by resentment, poverty, revenge, and hatred. And yet some believe that violence from abroad is the greater threat.

You get a different view of things by talking with people like an older gentleman I met recently in Detroit. Our conversation turned to foreign policy, and he complained that foreign aid was a terrible injustice to American people during a time of severe unemployment, rising crime, and economic depression in his hometown. “Why are they sending money to Iraq?” he asked. “Can’t you see that we have terrorists in my neighborhood?”

His words were angry, resentful, and expressed a common perception among those who live in what my research team identifies as the “Third City”—urban enclaves that are akin to so-called Third World countries in that they are the product of neglect, abuse, and misuse.

I see wisdom in foreign aid, just as I can see a rationale for following proposal guidelines regarding research on foreign terrorism. But I also understand that older gentleman’s frustration, and respect his cry for help. From the citizen perspective, is there any real difference to concerns about a rising tide of urban violence, whether it’s occurring on streets in Kosovo or Chicago? Whether we call the perpetrators criminals or terrorists?

As Jesus’ example shows, we can take a stand against violence and deny room to doubt, hopelessness, and fear.

The real perpetrator is the belief that society is made up of many competing minds, both good and bad. And that we’re powerless to stop the bad ones. Feeding that belief are the fears prompted by the daily bombardment of media reports and the celebration of what I term the culture of synthetic violence—especially in video games, websites, and the cinema. However, as Jesus’ example shows, we can take a stand against violence and deny room to doubt, hopelessness, and fear. Prayers that are mentally aligned with the one divine Mind enable us to be fearless, as Jesus was; to see, as he did, the ultimate nothingness of violence; and to help turn around the lives of those who’ve been taken over by distorted mentality.

I’ve seen transformation take place in individual lives. It’s impossible to be mesmerized by brutality’s false allure when you’ve seen and been touched by a more compelling model of manhood or womanhood—by the Christ model. This same model can help those who feel trapped by fears of crime or terrorism.

A close friend, a Christian Science practitioner, helped me meet these twin challenges of brutality and fear through a great deal of prayer and moral support in crisis moments. And with ideas to meditate on in quieter times.

Incidents of violence and fear are, at their base, lies about God and His creation.

Mortal thinking is prone to become scared, fearful of the daily pictures and reports from the streets in America and abroad. At times, a doomsday attitude seems to take over. My friend helped me understand that incidents of violence and fear are, at their base, lies about God and His creation. These lies use discouragement as a means of convincing us that our only solution to violence is revenge, or more violence. But is the answer ever “an eye for an eye”?

Hopelessness is allied to the tide of violence. I find the antidote to hopelessness in the example set by Jesus and others in the Bible. They taught peacemaking from a position of spiritual power, the power of divine Love. By adopting their spiritual response model, we won’t allow our thinking to be impressed by pictures of anarchy, uncivilized behavior, or any threat of evil.

Many people feel separated from the troubles of inner-city neighborhoods and rural pockets of poverty. However, as a lecturer in a law enforcement seminar I attended said, “If one citizen is not safe, then none are safe.” Again, conventional material thinking argues that the only true solution to violent behavior is to escalate force in the attempt to eradicate “the enemy.”

I recently had to meet this temptation to react when my automobile was vandalized in Detroit. Falling into an unforgiving, fearful, and resentful mental mode, I wanted the transgressors punished. I was sure they couldn’t be children of God. But suddenly my thinking changed. A higher instinct took over. I saw that my duty at that moment was to know the spiritual truth about the young men who’d damaged my car. I remembered that when the Master faced his great test with Judas’ betrayal, some of his disciples were caught up in fear and confusion. Peter reacted in anger and attacked someone in the crowd, cutting off his ear (see Luke 22:47–51).

The solution to evil and brutality that Jesus presented was clear in what he did next in that confrontation: He restored the man’s ear. Turning away from violence for his self-defense, he kept his true brother in his heart. He forgave on the spot, showing that a spiritually calm thought brings resolution and whatever lesson we need. Jesus evidently didn’t see the men in that crowd as terrorists or criminals. Even on the cross during the crucifixion he could forgive those who’d acted wrongly against him.

God’s calming influence turned my thoughts around in that moment.

That’s what I realized I had to do for those “bad actors” that day in Detroit. At first I was, like Peter, full of anger, in my case for the damage they’d done to my car and to the peace of a Sunday morning. I wanted revenge. A collection of young men had gathered down on the street, guys who saw themselves as an enforcing posse, outlaws in the literal sense of living outside the law. They knew who’d done the vandalizing and offered to catch the perpetrators and “regulate” them—inflict punishment. But the Spirit caught me first. God’s calming influence turned my thoughts around in that moment.

I told those young men that we would regulate only with love; that no good, no healing, would come out of this without love. Maybe they didn’t all get it at the moment, but I happen to know that now those men are taking a different path, one that leads away from the culture of violence.

My work in various communities demands that I keep a sense of balance, and rely on spiritual understanding to see what’s really going on. I know all too well the defining moments in the Third City, where, for example, people living an underground life barter for goods and services instead of using money, and where underworld activities are widely known to be criminal. The Third City world is street-based; the society surrounding it is in many ways a distant “ivory tower” kind of world.

This other world includes policymakers who understand the workings of labor markets, economic forecasting, and welfare projections. Their foot soldiers may be in the streets as social workers, faith-based organization volunteers, community agency staffers. They are the frontline communicators and forgers of new partnerships. The foe is the normalization of criminality (essentially, terrorism) in communities—those communities that essentially have been captured by warlords and gangs. Such groups feed off social injustice (manifested in poverty and unemployment), thrive where there is no rule of law, and employ violence (terror) as a tool for control.

Rebuking violence at all times as foreign to God’s creation will alone reduce violence.

In both my work in and prayer for these communities, I see a need to understand and apply the spiritual response that Jesus exhibited in that moment of human betrayal. His ability to look beyond the false picture of man as either cruel or reactive enabled him to be a healer. Rebuking violence at all times as foreign to God’s creation will alone reduce violence. The Holy Spirit will lead us out of this wilderness; it can deepen our understanding to meet the challenge presented by a rising tide of violence.

I think of other Bible accounts of violent instincts overcome through spiritual authority, such as Elisha asking a Syrian army captain who had leprosy to wash in a particular river (see II Kings 5:1–14). The officer was angry at first, but obeyed and was healed. When the Spirit leads us to do something, and we listen and obey, healing takes place.

Violence has no legitimate source.

Whether the challenge is domestic or foreign terrorism, local crime waves or distant threats of increasing violence, when the voice directing us to stand up to the challenge comes with a prophet’s authority, it can change the social chemistry for the better in that moment. Violence has no legitimate source, and its ultimate nothingness is the same whether it appears in local or global communities. As the Bible puts it, our weapons are spiritual not physical, but they are “mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds” (II Cor. 10:4).

During an interview with a former gang leader on the terrace of my apartment in Detroit, I saw something about humility and its power to disarm. The view from the 23rd floor of my building is calming. We looked out on the Detroit River where it flows into Lake St. Clair. In the distance we could see the city of Grosse Pointe, and below us were the grittier streets of Detroit.

As he and I took in that scene, in the background I had a classical duet playing on the sound system. Also with us that day was a recording studio engineer, Steve Smith, who worked on Motown legend Marvin Gaye’s classic album, “What’s Going On.” Smith was helping the former gang leader find constructive activities for a group of young boys. The duet playing featured Italian opera legend Luciano Pavarotti and the great soul singer James Brown, singing “It’s a Man’s World,” a song Brown wrote over 30 years ago.

The former gang leader knew James Brown as the “Godfather of Soul Music,” but, he asked, “Who’s this Luciano Pavarotti?” When I’d first met this young man some years ago, I feared him. His transgressions had been many; his image and appearance challenged all I knew about what it means to be a child of God. Everything about him and what he’d done seemed destructive and harmful. To put it simply, I saw an ugly gang leader. I had to go to higher ground—my thinking had to change.

Once I changed and saw him through the “eyes” of spiritual sense, I saw hope. I perceived a reason to engage someone who needed to be considered for his real identity, not as a menace to society. Today, he’s a leader of peaceful engagement who seeks peace and harmony for young boys. This former gang leader sets a moral tone in his community. Street violence is not allowed to grow under his leadership. His weapon is wisdom, not a “gat,” the street word for “gun.” His image is positive, strong, and kind.

Years ago, he would not have been open to an Italian superstar opera singer, because he wasn’t the right color. Now, his words were sweet in my ears: “Man, dude can sing. He really can sing this song. He’s cool. What’s his name again?”

I had to smile as I thought about our gathering that day, and the two singers collaborating on that song. That artists as different as Pavarotti and Brown, from musical worlds as different as opera and rhythm and blues, could work together and achieve a sense of balance and mutual understanding! Wouldn’t it be just as normal, and beautiful, for leaders in the street culture to benefit from working with those in ivory towers?

To turn back the tide of violence, we’ll need all the understanding that the one Mind imparts. All the balance that Love gives to its children.

A scholar in urban ecology, sociology, and criminology, and author of several books, Dr. Carl S. Taylor teaches at Michigan State University.