I would say that self-righteousness, self-blindness, and lack of self-doubt contribute to a lot of large and small scale lacking of peace. Having no introspective or contemplative side tends to lead to an unrestrained person from what I have seen.

Emotions that are against peace would probably be hate, resentment, envy, anger, the will to power and domination, greed, arrogance, and a few others I have missed.

Since the majority view is pacifists are cowardly, and passive. How do we spread the truth?

Does anyone here have any ideas or links or wisdom or anything ? (please nothing inappropriate)

This is an anecdote that I figure may be of interest to people here.

Two things to know about me: 1) I've naturally held pacifistic views throughout my entire life. No one else I grew up around was into non-violence and humanism, so who the hell knows how that happened. 2) I was emotionally, physically, and sexually abused by my dad throughout many of my childhood and teen years. His actions were remorseless and cruel and have given me life-long debilitating disabilities.

So there's the background. Onto the story: When my mom found out about the abuse, she tried to kill my dad. She wasn't aware that her willingness to murder a human being would terrify the shit out of me, or she never would have bragged about it to me. Fortunately, her murder attempt failed.

Despite loving me and trying to do what's best for me, the situation spiraled further into inevitable tragedy. My family and friends forced me completely against my will to take my abuser to court, with justifications like "he deserves to die" and "this is what happens to bad people." Psychologists said I had Stockholm syndrome and implied there was something wrong with me that needed to be cured. Suddenly the entire world felt dark and horrifying, as I realized even my safe, loving protectors were unwilling to listen to me and eager to condemn a person to extreme suffering. My abuser ended up locked in prison for a very long time. I felt ashamed and guilty and scared and entirely alone, and it broke me; I completely shut down and attempted suicide.

It's been a long, difficult decade and a half toward stabilization. These days I work at a nonprofit helping unhoused individuals--including those with criminal histories!--to rebuild their lives. It's KICKASS.

Looking back, if my loved ones had been able to put their feelings aside and say, "We disagree with how you feel about punitive justice, but we understand it means a lot to you, so let's look into ways to make this work for all of us," I probably wouldn't have been so traumatized. If someone had promised to send my abuser regular care packages in prison... If someone had known about and provided resources for me to learn about prison reform/abolition... Of course, I know now that's a tall ask, because reparative/restorative justice is highly outside the norm, and I wasn't able to articulate my views well at the time, and everyone was dealing with their own heavy emotional stress. If I flip the situation around and imagine having a friend/family member who adamantly wants to give their abuser the death sentence, it's like, damn. That'd be hard for me to reconcile. I get it.

I'm proud that non-violence means so much to me and that I've stood my ground. It's unfortunate that it messed up my brain even worse. But to this day, I'm like, NON-VIOLENCE IS BADASS. Things have gotten easier since I met pacifist pals in recent years, with whom I can discuss and refine my views. One of them cracked me up recently by saying, "Many would call me naïve and have, but also they can pee their pants, I'm not stupid!!! I've thought about it a lot actually, fight me!! You wanna step into the moral philosophy ring proper, bud!"

Edit: I thought this detail might be of interest as well: I am 1,000,000% percent no-contact with my dad. I never want to see that asshole again. I heard he had a harsh prison experience and has had a difficult time since being released, which is unsurprising and sad. I doubt he'll ever feel bad about what he did to me, and I bet he'd do it again to someone else. Still doesn't make it okay to treat him as less than human. We can do better. I'll never stop fighting for better.

When it's a self-defence situation? What constitutes a self-defense situation? Or did God/Nature leave that for us to decide basically?

Calling the police or a higher authority to protect you is still violence and you are responsible for the actions that the police commit in your defense.

The same as if a goverment sends soldiers into war , relying on authority to protect you is ethically worse because you have no control over the level of violence that is committed.

I almost drowned a day back and I was so scared of losing my life. My only life. Such vitality I’ve given to my useless life that I couldn’t afford to even think about losing it. In sheer panic, I chose to swim harder , pedal faster hoping to catch the shore. I just wanted my feet to touch the ground. Just how dear life is, at least in that moment. I’m not able to shake it off.

Then how can one chose to step down in war ? To self sacrifice for peace , for prosperity. What is peace and prosperity if I’m not there, if my family is not there. To sacrifice for the enemies family , for their peace. For the peace and prosperity of humanity , i will cease to exist. How will I sacrifice there ? How do I step down when I is the main question ? Sure I’ve attached “I” to my country. I to my family . Oh my mother and wife will get raped. So the problem is about your mother ? And your wife ? And if it’s someone else’s wife getting raped then ? It’s different ? Then where does humanity come into play then ? Then what is this talk bout peace , if it’s only about your mother and your wife ? When politicians tells their youth to go fight for them and they’re willing to say that while they sip their morning coffee. Cause as long they’re having their coffee and if their children are having their coffee then it’s alright. With “I” , there is no humanity. We can forget bout it. All this talk of humanity has no realism if you’re obsessed about your existence. You cannot be a pacifist when you’re drowning.

And if you can, then we can start talking bout , peace, prosperity and humanity.

Pacifism, often wrapped in the rhetoric of morality and peace, is, at its core, a grand illusion designed to pacify the powerless. Those in power have long understood that violence is a tool—one they wield with precision and control, while condemning its use by those beneath them. It is not coincidence, then, that pacifism is sold to the masses as the "higher ground," as the ultimate moral stance. But who benefits from this lofty position? Surely not the oppressed, whose non-violence is met with either condescending indifference or, worse, brutal retaliation.

The state, the corporate elite, and all who maintain the status quo rely on the monopoly on power. It is not only a monopoly of the means of force but of the narrative. They insist that peaceful protest is the only way to bring about change, offering the faint glimmer of hope that speaking truth to power will awaken the conscience of the oppressors. Yet, history has shown this to be nothing more than a trap. Peaceful protests, especially when they threaten to disrupt the established order, are met with censorship, media blackouts, and quiet suppression. When ignored, protestors are told to move on, to clear out, to be patient. It is a request that amounts to nothing but an ultimatum: leave or face force. And when they refuse? Then comes the violence.

The peaceful protests, when inconvenient, are brutally repressed—riot police, tear gas, arrests, the truncheon against the flesh. The state labels its violent actions "necessary" and "measured," always casting its heavy-handedness in the light of maintaining order, security, and peace. This is the paradox of pacifism: the very people demanding peace are met with violence, and those who dare respond to that violence in kind are vilified as aggressors. Pacifism is not a two-way street; it is a one-sided demand made by those who hold the power of the sword.

What happens, then, when the censored and suppressed finally resist this narrative? When they, in the face of brutal force, pick up stones, raise barricades, and fight back? Their resistance is criminalized, delegitimized, and painted as savagery. The state responds with bigger violence—escalation, militarization, bullets replacing batons. The cycle of repression grows ever more grotesque as pacifism’s promises are revealed to be hollow. The message is clear: you may speak softly as long as you remain silent, but raise your voice or your fist, and we will crush you.

In the end, pacifism serves power by disarming the subordinate class, both morally and physically. It teaches that violence—except when sanctioned by the state—is always wrong, conveniently leaving the ruling class free to employ it at will. It instructs the oppressed that to fight back is to betray the cause of peace, ensuring their submission in the face of injustice.

And so, the great scam of pacifism is laid bare. It is not a pathway to peace but a leash around the necks of the powerless, held by those who use violence and the threat of violence to maintain their dominion. Peace, as it is presented, is not the absence of conflict; it is the absence of resistance. True peace, the kind born from justice, will never be handed down by those in power. It will only be wrested from them, by any means necessary.

I view pacifism and violence as languages, means of communication that are taught, learned, used, expanded on, developed, and livded. Pacifism, for all its moral pretensions, is often misunderstood as a universal language. Its proponents speak of dialogue, negotiation, and reason, as though every human being is fundamentally attuned to the language of peace. Yet, this assumption is not only naive but dangerous. The world is not a place where all speak the same language. Just as some tongues are unknown to others, so too is the language of pacifism foreign to those in power, who have long spoken and thrived in a different tongue—violence.

Violence is not merely an action, it is a language—rich in nuance, direct in meaning, and understood implicitly by those who wield it. For centuries, violence has been the lingua franca of kings, states, and empires. Borders have been drawn and redrawn in blood, power shifts negotiated through war, and social hierarchies built upon the domination of one group by another. This is the language of conquest, of subjugation, and of authority. It is a primal speech, and those in power are fluent in it.

The tragedy of pacifism is that it attempts to communicate in a language that the powerful do not care to understand. Pacifists speak of moral duty, justice, and peaceful coexistence, but these words fall on deaf ears. To the oppressor, pacifism appears weak, submissive—a form of pleading from those who have already been dominated. Power, after all, is not maintained by mutual understanding or compromise, but by force. The powerful do not speak the language of peace because they have never needed to. Their rule is secured by the sword, the prison, the gun. The very tools that sustain their authority are inscribed in the language of violence.

For the powerful, violence is not chaotic or senseless—it is coherent, structured, and highly effective. It is a system of communication with clear rules: resistance is met with suppression, defiance is met with punishment, and insurrection is met with annihilation. Pacifism, by contrast, appears to them as the language of the vanquished, a foreign dialect of submission and weakness, powerless to alter the status quo.

The failure of pacifism, then, lies not in its ideals but in its assumption that the powerful will respond to it. They will not. To them, pacifism is a language they neither speak nor recognize. It cannot move them because they are untouched by it. No amount of peaceful protest, reasoned dialogue, or moral persuasion will sway those who only understand power in terms of coercion and domination. You cannot reason with those who speak only in violence by refusing to speak their language.

If the powerful are to be convinced, they must be taught to understand a different message—a message they can comprehend, and the only way to teach them the basics is to speak the language they already know. Pacifism will never succeed until it is coupled with an understanding of violence as a form of communication. It is not an abandonment of ideals but an embrace of reality. To challenge power, you must first speak its language.

Just as an oppressed people may rise up in rebellion, using violence not as an end but as a means of expressing their refusal to submit, so too must those who seek justice learn to communicate with those who hold power in terms they understand. The only way to force the hand of those who control the machinery of violence is to show them that their monopoly on it is not unchallenged.

To speak the language of violence is not to descend into chaos, but to make oneself understood in a world where dialogue has failed. It is to demand, rather than ask. It is to compel, rather than request. It is to teach those in power that their position is not invulnerable, that their control is not total. The very basics of this language must be communicated forcefully, with clarity, through resistance that can no longer be ignored.

This is not an argument for the glorification of violence, nor a celebration of destruction, but a recognition that those in power will never respond to peace until they are made to. When the oppressed speak in the language of pacifism, they are offering dialogue. When that dialogue is ignored, their only choice is to shift to the language of violence—not because they desire it, but because the powerful have left them no other option.

The first step in teaching those who hold power is to make them listen. And they will never listen until their world is shaken by the very tools they use to maintain control. Only when they are made to feel the consequences of their own violent rule will they even begin to entertain the possibility of understanding a different language. Only then, perhaps, can true dialogue begin.

Hi all, I myself am not a pacifist but the idea fascinates me. I was wondering if most of pacifists believe in absolutely no violence under any circumstances. Would you not defend your kids/family if an intruder broke in? Would you not defend yourself if you were being assaulted? In what situations would you ever resort to violence if there is any? Also please let me know if I am misunderstanding of the pacifist beliefs. Thanks!

I’ve been reflecting on pacifism lately and how, while it's often seen as a morally superior stance, there’s a paradox lurking behind many of its most notable achievements. Here’s the thing: pacifism often relies on violence (or at least the threat of violence) to be effective. In many cases, the peace and rights that pacifists seek to promote and protect wouldn’t exist without some form of force upholding them.

Let’s take the Civil Rights Movement as an example. Figures like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. advocated for nonviolent resistance, and their efforts were undeniably powerful and inspirational. But we have to remember that much of the movement's progress wasn’t just because of peaceful protests—it was also backed by the threat of force. When federal law was ignored and peaceful protestors were met with violence, it was often the National Guard, federal troops, or law enforcement stepping in with the threat of force that ultimately ensured integration and desegregation. The peaceful marches and sit-ins were crucial, but without the government’s willingness to deploy force against violent opposition, it’s likely that change would have come much slower—if at all.

Another poignant example is the Kindertransport during World War II. This heroic rescue mission saved thousands of Jewish children by transporting them from Nazi-controlled territories to safety in Britain. But let’s be real: while it was a deeply humanitarian effort, its success was partly dependent on the British government’s willingness to protect those lives using force. The children were being rescued from Nazi Germany, a regime that was expanding through violent conquest, and the only reason Kindertransport could work is that there was an implicit understanding that, in time, Britain would fight back. Pacifism saved lives, but those lives were shielded by the violence that followed.

This raises a larger point about the limits of absolute pacifism. Pacifism, when practiced in its most extreme form—absolute nonviolence regardless of the situation—can sometimes be untenable, especially when faced with regimes or actors that don’t play by those rules. The Nazis, for example, wouldn’t have been swayed by protests or economic sanctions alone. In such cases, refusing to engage in violence or resist with force can allow atrocities to continue unchecked. The reality is that absolute pacifism only works if both parties come to the table in good faith—and history is full of examples where that simply doesn’t happen.

Now, I’m not saying pacifism doesn’t have its place. It absolutely does. Nonviolent resistance can lead to profound social change, and the ideals behind pacifism—valuing human life, seeking peaceful resolution—are things we should all aspire to. But it's essential to acknowledge that pacifist victories are often won in the shadow of violence. Whether it’s the enforcement of laws, the presence of military deterrents, or the knowledge that someone, somewhere, will eventually stand up to aggression with force, many of the gains attributed to pacifism are underpinned by the threat (or reality) of violence.

This doesn’t mean that we abandon pacifism altogether, but it does mean we need to recognize that it exists within a larger system where violence is sometimes necessary to create the conditions for peace. There are different gradients to pacifism—ranging from absolute nonviolence to conditional pacifism, which acknowledges that force might sometimes be needed to stop greater harm. Most of us probably fall somewhere in between.

At the end of the day, this paradox is something we need to wrestle with. Pacifism and nonviolent ideals can help guide us toward more humane, just societies—but we can’t ignore the uncomfortable truth that many of those peaceful outcomes have only been made possible by the presence of force.

Would love to hear your thoughts—does this paradox resonate with you? How do you reconcile the tension between pacifism and the role violence sometimes plays in enforcing or enabling it?

TL;DR: Pacifism has been instrumental in many historical victories, but these wins often relied on the threat or use of violence to actually work (e.g., Civil Rights Movement with the National Guard, Kindertransport during WWII). Absolute pacifism is limited, especially when the other side isn't willing to resolve things peacefully. This paradox is worth considering when we talk about pacifism’s role in creating positive change.

It seems like being pro life is a consistent view for pacifism. It's why I'm anti abortion. If nothing justifies violence in other areas of life, nothing justifies it for abortion either.

But what are you guys? Pro choice? Pro life? What role does pacifism play in your views?

EDIT: I'm not talking about laws. Laws are inherently violent by nature (threat of force). I'm simply asking about the morality of the act itself, since it is a violent one. A lot of people are acting confident that a fetus isn't a human being. If you hold this view please give me a scientific definition of when a human being begins to exist (the start of a human life).

This is a question for people who are commited pacifists,have studie about pacifism or have a understanding of how peaceful resistance works.

In places like Russia and Venezuela where authoritarian regimes rule with either support or apathy from the majority of the population do you belive peaceful resistance can work to bring down the government?

In Venezuela for the last 24 years the opposition has been trying to take down the governments with multiple strategies ranging from peaceful resistance to violent conflict and in between with varying degrees of success but each 4 years it seems like the opposition voices have only gotten quieter and more incapable instead of growing. Do you belive this is because of a lack of strategy and understanding of peaceful resistance where they just take a shot in the dark every time? Or is it another reason?

As for Russia it seems the government has support of 70%+ of the people and altho its a authoritarian government for the russian opposition theres absolutely no chance of it being overthrow in the present time, should pacifists in these cases organize their own peaceful resistance or should they wait for times where people are less willing to defend the government?

Quite curious to see the pacifist perspective on this, was discussing pacifism with a friend but couldnt get their answer

Hi everyone, so I'm teenager from lithuania and since 2015 "we" brought back mandatory conscription. From what I learned when I will turn 17, I'll have to contact National Defence System and provide the necessary documents and contact details. I'll have my health checked, and if I'm fit, I will be called up for service when I turn 18.

So.. how do I avoid this? We have mandatory military service so I'm not even sure if there is a legal way to dodge it. I'm planning on leaving the country for study, but I'm still obligated to serve in military. But I'm not exactly sure what will happen if I don't return.

I don't want to serve in army, because for most of my life I had pacifist views. Hell, I even hate entire concept of nation states, countries and nationalism. I don't want to become a tool for the rich and powerful, and dying in a meaningless war.

Thanks in advance

Because I'm really anti-punitive, and I need a community that understands me. Like, I don't care if someone rapes a baby, I do not wish for them to be punished. That's how extreme my pacifism is.

I don't know, I just feel a pang of sadness whenever I witness someone seen as evil being punished and their punishment being celebrated. Couldn't tell you why, so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, am I in the right fricking place or no lol?

I've thought of this scenario back in middle school. The scenario involves a bully standing in front of you with their friends. The task is to get out of the situation without escalating the situation and without the threat of further bullying afterward. My thought was that I would do nothing, even if they were to get physical. If I don't do anything, it means I'm being attacked for no reason. Reporting to the authorities or supervisors may increase the threat of bullying, because the bully would think I'm getting scared of them, further feeding their behavior. Furthermore, it might spread their "bullying-ground" to others.

So that's why I think doing nothing would be best, but I'm also thinking about how this could be done on a larger scale and how one would promote this approach to eventually rid bullying altogether (a difficult task obviously).

What do you think about this and what would you do?

Just realized it's been a full 21 years since I became a pacifist. My pacifism is now old enough to drink, smoke, or be conscripted in most countries around the world!

Posting here because there's no recognized way for me to honor this in my regular life (open to ideas, but I've got none) even though it's so important to me.

Cheers to 15 year old me! We believed peace was the only viable option for humanity 21 years ago, and we still believe today. :)

Hello. I'm a guy with a passport from a country with 2 things I wish were gone: Its Ba'ath government and the civil war. TBH, I would love to live in a place where everyone, rather than living under an awful politician's control, is happy; However, that's not what I have so I'm glad I live in Kuwait.

I'm a pacifist and have been for as long as I can remember. But what doesn't let me sleep at night is knowing that a peaceful world is impossible. In nature animals eat each other all the time. We are animals as well. War will stop only when humanity ceases to exist. We are programmed to hate and kill. The entire world and nature are incompatible with pacifism, down to the smallest insects. It's insane

I’m struggling with this issue.

Title.

I consider myself to be a pacifist, and I’m like mostly vegetarian but sometimes I eat meat, but when I do I kinda have a thought eating away at me in the back of my mind that I’m not a good person or a real pacifist because I’m eating what was once another living thing that, in all likeliness, had an awful life and got slaughtered just to be eaten. And I don’t think I’m important enough as a person to justify the life being taken from an animal just for me to eat, because that animal, like me, was another living thing and i don’t know if I feel okay with an animal dying only to be unceremoniously eaten by me. So my question to you all is, am I still a pacifist?