Teaching Students About Peace and Nonviolence
By Murray Polner
Can teaching peace and nonviolence to
students make a difference in their lives? Colman McCarthy, who spent three
decades as a Washington Post columnist, has certainly tried in his own very unique
way by persuading school boards and principals to hire him as an unpaid
volunteer teacher of “peace studies.” His motivation: “Unless we teach them peace,
someone will teach them violence.” His new book, “Teaching Peace: Students
Exchange Letters with Their Teacher,” is riveting and a real gem, filled with
insights gleaned from the thousands of letters he’s received from former
students. In it, he explains how and why he went about it, enduring skepticism and
praise, criticism and admiration.
Given that “teaching peace” encourages
critical thinking it tends to alarm timid school boards and provoke opposition
from local pressure groups. Obviously it’s not easy to challenge beliefs,
patriotism and legendary heroes, any one of which is guaranteed to shake up a
good many people and institutions. It’s much easier and simpler to teach about
wars, military and political leaders and unquestioned support for the flag than
debating alternatives. Why did Japan attack Pearl Harbor? Were Vietnam and Iraq
avoidable? Were there other options that might have cost fewer lives? Are Edward Snowden and Chelsea Manning whistleblowers
or traitors? Does capital punishment lead to fewer murders? Are we still a
racist nation or have things changed since Obama’s election? And why kill animals for food?
Colman McCarthy believes teaching
about peace and nonviolence at home and abroad is worthwhile. A radical
pacifist and nonviolent activist, he initially volunteered in a Washington
inner city school thirty years ago. It had less than 300 students, “no
auditorium, no gym, no cafeteria, no lockers, no athletic field and for a time,
no safe drinking water.” He never abandoned Woodrow Wilson High’s School without
Walls but later branched out as well to privileged, wealthy suburbia began
speaking and teaching at colleges and universities.
Free of
newspaper deadlines has allowed him to teach what many Americans reject or at
least believe impossible to put into play.
“Teaching Peace” allows us to
understand how he has proceeded and how much of what he imparts—not by dominating
pronouncements but rather by the Socratic Method and his version of “Show and
Tell.” There is no homework, no tests,
no papers to write, and no grades. Reading, though, is essential, and since 1982,
he has introduced thousands of students to writers they rarely encounter:
Dorothy Day, Mohandas Gandhi, Leo Tolstoy, Peter Kropotkin, Emma Goldman, Dan
Berrigan, Howard Zinn, Helen and Scott Nearing, Gene Sharp and more. He doesn’t
lecture but, he explains, encourages students to ask questions and also
question authority, as that hoary ‘60s slogan went. About war and peace, yes,
but also the treatment of animals and women, the Cold War and our post-911
nation security and militarized state. Very opinionated, he says he welcomes
challenges and clashes of opinions. He invites guests —corporate and public
interest lawyers, pacifists and war veterans, conscientious objectors and pro-draft
people, judges, innocent men freed after years spent on death row, Nobel Prize
winners, nurses and doctors who serve the poor and most vulnerable among us.
He’s always had critics. In a Maryland
high school two students wanted his course dropped. “I do recognize that it is
a fairly popular course,” one of them told the Washington Post, “but it’s clear
that the teacher is giving only one side of the story. He’s only offering facts
that fit his point of view.” McCarthy answered, “I never said my views are
right and theirs were wrong. In fact, I cherish conservative dissenters. I wish
I could get more of them in.” The course was given a green light.
“We
adopted a motto for the course. Instead of [merely] asking questions, be bolder
and question the answers. What answers? Those that say violence. Those that say
if we kill enough people, drop enough bombs, jail enough dissenters, torture
enough prisoners, keep fighting fire with fire, and not with water, we’ll have
peace forever.” That’s vintage
McCarthy—no middle ground with war and violence.
In one of the letters he received, Meredith
Beardmore wrote that she and her classmates were invited to hear Andrew Card, George
W. Bush’s Chief of Staff, speak. Should she attend and miss his class? McCarthy
held nothing back.
“If you want to subject yourself to a
governmental functionary working for a president who believes that violence is
necessary and moral then go hear Andrew Card. I’d bet that halfway through his
gab, you’ll ask yourself, ‘Why am I wasting my time here’”?
Mika Lesevic writes McCarthy about
her Marine boyfriend who was off to yet another tour of duty in Iraq. She wrote
of her awakening to “first love, first war, and first real pain of life.” When he
returned home, deeply troubled, “a mere shadow of the person he used to be,” she
tells McCarthy that not until he had organized a class on war veterans that she
began to understand what the war had done to her Marine. McCarthy, angry,
berates our “presidents and congressional warlords [who] believe they must
dispatch the young to preserve the American Empire.” He goes on describe
another Iraq/Afghan War veteran-student who told him never to ask what he did
there. And then, words of advice for Mika: “With your boyfriend—‘my Marine’—take
whatever time you need to make a decision.”
In another class he introduced Vicki
Schieber who spoke against the death penalty, hardly a unique topic, until he
told them that her daughter, Shannon, a former McCarthy student, was raped and killed
in her Philadelphia apartment in 1998.
Mitchell Caspell became a vegetarian
and turned against the death penalty. He says McCarthy gave him a “foundation
and many ideas to refer to in the future,” adding, “And I will never accept an explanation
without questioning it…without questioning and thinking for myself.” To which
McCarthy pens a lengthy response best summed up this way: “It’s true. If you
want to make a difference start to be different.”
Bill Britton teaches in a Massachusetts
prep school and was asked to set up a peace center. McCarthy says he’s never
heard of a school system, public or private, hiring a full-time peace studies
teacher. As a result, “schools produce docile and obedient people readied not
to question the country’s economic and military policies—as they likely would
if they took three or four years of peace studies.” And
then his I-can’t- not-say-this”
moment telling Britton that he was working with Washington’s Woodrow Wilson students
to change its school name because Wilson was “racist, militaristic, sexist.” He
suggested a new name, Pete Seeger High School.
Laurie Chin writes that he has
“inspired me in so many ways. My degree from Colgate in Peace and Conflict
Studies is really because of you.” She enclosed an invitation to her graduation
ceremony.
A letter from Yurina 0sumi arrives.
Her mother was born in Hiroshima and she expresses her horror of war, nuclear or
otherwise. “It’s springtime in Washington,” McCarthy responds, “which means that the city is awash in the
beauty of the hundreds and hundreds of Japanese cherry blossom trees—gifts from
your country to ours long before we were enemies. During World War II, talk was heard that the trees
should be chopped down. Calmer minds prevailed, for once.” He then sends his
greetings to one of her teachers. “I’m sure you are teaching him a lot, as you
have me.”
Perhaps McCarthy’s book might have been
strengthened had he shown himself wrestling with a few doubts –if he has any—or
the frustration of being a passionate peacemaker in a nation historically
addicted to war and violence. Even so, I
remember a sign held by an intrepid woman at Bush and Kerry presidential rallies
in the same Manhattan neighborhood in 2004. It read, “Justice Takes Time.” After
reading “Teaching Peace” I wouldn’t be surprised if she had been one of Colman
McCarthy’s students.