Lecturing the Military on Nonviolent Defence

On 25 November 1993 I gave a lecture on nonviolent defence at the Command and
Staff College at Fort Queenscliff, Victoria.  The officers attending the
lecture were participants in a twelve months strategic studies course. 
During the last weeks of this course, the officers are expected to attend
several lectures which present alternative ideas about security and defence;
the lecture I gave was one of these.  The lecture was attended by eighty-one
Majors; sixty from the Australian Army and the balance from Indonesia,
Malaysia, Pakistan, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, New Zealand,
Canada, the United States and the United Kingdom.

When I was first asked to conduct the lecture, I thought that it was an
excellent opportunity to present an alternative way of understanding defence
to an important audience - members of the next generation of the Australian
Army High Command - even if I only had eighty minutes!  I was pleased to have
the opportunity and spent considerable time preparing the lecture - although,
given the audience, I set myself a single modest goal: to expose my audience
to the idea of nonviolent defence1 as a viable defence strategy.  After
carefully questioning the officer who requested me to conduct the lecture,
reading an article which discussed ideas about how to present nonviolent
defence to a military audience2 and consulting scholars like Brian Martin, I
prepared a lecture which was designed to build on the officers' knowledge of
the strategic theory of Carl von Clausewitz.

I chose this approach for two reasons. Firstly, Clausewitz is the strategic
theorist who is most respected by most military people.  And secondly, during
my own research on nonviolent defence, I had developed a strategic theory of
nonviolent defence which drew heavily on Clausewitz (as well as Gandhi and
recent conflict theory).  By using Clausewitz, I hoped to explain nonviolent
defence in a way which my audience could easily understand (because it built
on their existing knowledge) and in a way which would give it credibility
(because it was consistent, in important ways, with 'their' strategic
theory).  As part of my preparation, I sent a reading guide and two case
studies (which I was told would be read!) and I prepared several visual aids
- including a slide, a video (of the Philippines Revolution) and several
overhead transparencies.

I had arranged to arrive in time for lunch so that I could meet the officers
beforehand.  This was an excellent opportunity to learn more about their
strategic studies course and to gain an informal sense of their personal
views.   It was a valuable time!  And one which left me scolding myself on at
least one count.  I had learned during my research on nonviolent defence that
only a select few of the academic and military strategists who write or teach
in the field of strategic studies understand Clausewitzian theory.  Most
strategists tend to quote one of Clausewitz's more memorable lines and then
pass on to more accessible (but less insightful) theorists.  So my belief -
acquired during the original telephone call - that the officers attending the
course were familiar with Clausewitzian theory was exposed as groundless.  I
should have known!

My lecture of forty minutes went according to plan except that I was
modifying it as I went because of the lunchtime revelation.  As I spoke, and
particularly as I explained and illustrated the practice of nonviolent
defence, I could sense the rising desire of my audience to question me.  And
after a short break, they had their chance.

The questions flowed thick and fast. They asked questions such as: How would
you reallocate the defence budget if Australia was using nonviolent defence
(ND)?  It seems that a strategy of ND relies on an 'agreement' by governments
not to use the military; that is, one-in-all-in.  If one country uses
military force, how can ND work?  It seems that the strategy requires 'an
enemy on the ground'.  How long would an Australian government last if it let
an enemy land on Australian territory?  Nonviolent defence is based on the
belief that a government needs public support for its strategy.  But what of
aggressor countries governed by military dictatorships?  If you had been
commander of the Australian armed forces during World War II, how would you
have prevented the Japanese invasion of Australia?  Where does deterrence fit
into this strategy?  It seems that a strategy of nonviolent defence requires
a certain level of morality on the part of the aggressor.  What if the enemy
is genocidal?  It seems that the Tibetan resistance is a classic case of
nonviolent defence.  Hasn't this depended on the morality of the Chinese? 
How successful was ND against Japan during World War II?  How do you defend
an area which is resource-rich but sparsely populated?  How do you get the
population involved in a strategy of ND given society's increasing reliance
on professionals?  How should the military approach an opponent which is
using ND?

I answered each of these (and other) questions as effectively as I could
given the strict time limit of forty minutes.  And despite their obvious
scepticism, the spirit of the session was friendly.  According to the
feedback I received later, my lecture was judged a success given that I had
managed to stimulate so many questions so late in the course!  And I was
asked if I would do the lecture again the following year.  But while my hosts
seemed satisfied with the outcome, I was much less so for several reasons.

Some of these were inevitable given the nature of the exercise.  As I hinted
above, having been asked to lecture on nonviolent defence to a group of
military officers, I was not naive enough to believe that I was about to win
a large number of instant converts to nonviolence.  But my feelings of
dissatisfaction went deeper than simply experiencing the reality of this
insight during the lecture itself.  In fact, it has taken me more than a
month to fully identify these feelings and to formulate my response to them
as outlined below.

Firstly, many of the questions assumed that the military officers and I
shared a common understanding of the nature of society, the notion of
security, the causes of conflict and the purpose of defence.  For example,
they accepted the widely held belief that the purpose of military defence is
to defend a country against evil aggressors whereas I believe that the
purpose of military violence is to defend structures of exploitation.  These
structures - including patriarchy and capitalism - systematically exploit
women; indigenous peoples; the people of Africa, Asia and Latin America;
non-human species; the environment and working people generally.  Given our
very different social cosmologies, an adequate answer to many of their
questions would have required a long discussion which revealed the profound
differences in our ways of understanding the world.  This was not possible in
the lecture format and in the time available which, despite my modest
expectations, I found frustrating.  Should I agree to participate in another
session of this type (which counterpoises a brief lecture on nonviolent
defence with a year of military defence)?  Should I insist on a different
format and more time?  One approach which David Yaskulka uses - which is
mentioned in the article referred to above - is to lead 'war games' (in which
one half of his audience uses civilian-based defence).  Or should I refuse to
be involved?

Secondly, I have realised in retrospect that I pitched too much of the
lecture at their heads.  Because I wanted to make nonviolent defence sound
like a credible alternative, I planned a lecture which was supposed to build
on 'their' knowledge of strategic theory.  This failed on two counts. 
Firstly, as noted above, their knowledge of this theory was very limited. 
And secondly, it let them debate the strategic and tactical merits of
nonviolent defence without getting too deeply into the ethics and their
feelings about defence generally.  I personally believe that nonviolent
defence, when it is planned and strategically applied, is indeed more
effective than military defence.  Moreover, I think that this can be
demonstrated to a neutral audience.  But to rely on arguments which allow
people to ignore the ethical and emotional issues which the question of
defence obviously raises is an error which I will not repeat.

Finally, the lecture once again raised for me that perennial question: how do
I want to spend my time?  If I was an advocate of civilian-based defence,
then I may choose to spend more of my time talking to the military.  But, as
a staunch critic of that approach, there is less justification for me
spending my time trying to persuade the military to adopt nonviolent forms of
defence.  My personal preference is to work with other nonviolent activists
(broadly defined) or with those who are exploring what it means to be an
activist.  Part of my reason for this preference is that it maximises my
personal effectiveness (on the assumption that working with fellow activists
will generate the greatest number of new activists and maximise the impact of
our nonviolent action campaigns).

In the light of this, how much time should I spend talking to those people
who are among those least likely to respond positively and actively to
nonviolence?  Don't get me wrong; I think that sharing knowledge about
nonviolent defence with military personnel is important.  But the question
is: should I do it?  On balance, I have realised that I do not feel that this
lecture was the best use of my time.  Thus, having learned a lot from the
experience and having gained a better idea of what to do next time, I may
teach nonviolent defence to a military audience in future - but it will
depend heavily on the format and time which is made available to me.  And I
will continue to devote most of my energy to those people who are more likely
to be ready to hear the message of nonviolence.
Robert J Burrowes

Notes
1. There are several forms of 'nonviolent defence'. In essence, advocates of
CIVILIAN-BASED DEFENCE (CBD) are concerned with defence of the nation-state,
its government and territory.  They seek its adoption (in whole or in part)
by national governments, and it refers to a nonviolent strategy working under
the direction of a government.  Like military defence, it would rely on
centralised decision-making and hierarchical organisation for its
implementation. For a discussion of CBD, see Gene Sharp, CIVILIAN-BASED
DEFENSE: A POST-MILITARY WEAPONS SYSTEM. Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1990.

In contrast, while advocates of SOCIAL DEFENCE (SD) are less specific about
their defence preoccupation, the focus is clearly non-statist and
anti-elitist.  It is concerned with defence at community level.  Advocates
seek its acceptance by the community at large and it is a defence strategy
based on grassroots initiatives.  It would rely on cooperation and
communication among community-based groups for its implementation.  For a
discussion of SD, see Brian Martin, SOCIAL DEFENCE SOCIAL CHANGE. London:
Freedom Press, 1993.

In my recent research, I decided to use the original name NONVIOLENT DEFENCE
(ND) to describe a defence strategy conducted in accordance with the
strategic theory and the strategic framework which I developed by
synthesising selected elements taken from the strategic theory of Clausewitz,
the conceptions of conflict and nonviolence developed by Gandhi and recent
research in the fields of human needs and conflict theory.  While it shares
the grassroots orientation of SD, I believe that ND goes considerably beyond
both CBD and SD as a defence strategy.

2. Yaskulka, David. 'How to Introduce Civilian-based Defense to Military and
other Traditional Defense-oriented Audiences'. CIVILIAN-BASED DEFENSE. 8, 4,
August 1993. pp. 1-3. Reprinted in NONVIOLENCE TODAY. 35, November/December
1993. pp. 16-17