Why I am a pacifist

I call myself a pacifist. I haven't always done so and I sometimes hesitate to if I think I might be misunderstood. But with a short book ahead of me to explain what I mean, I say with confidence: I am a pacifist – by which I mean that I try to play my part in making peace by nonviolent means.

Perhaps my pacifism hasn't yet been fully tested. I haven't been a soldier or a resident of a country invaded by another nor been forced in to the military through conscription. Nevertheless, as a resident of a country which drops bombs on other countries, sells weapons to governments engaged in human rights abuse and is complicit in climate change – causing perhaps the largest process of global violence imaginable – I feel a responsibility to speak out and do what I can to work for peace.

I am a pacifist first and foremost because of a profound physiological, psychological and spiritual sense that I couldn't kill another person and that to inflict pain on others is wrong. Different cultures have used different words and explanations for this feeling. Within many world religions and cultures there is a group that feels likewise. In Britain – where I live and grew up – perhaps the best known is the Quaker community of which I am part. I declare my background from the start, and have no doubt my outlook has been shaped by my experience of this community. But true to the nondoctrinal, non-creedal tradition it is also a position I have come to myself.

When approached to write this book, I was asked if I might offer something about campaigning and activism. On reflection, I asked if might explore pacifism instead, precisely because it is the root of why I act. It isn't called 'Why you should be a pacifist' or 'why we should all be pacifists' even though I hope that both you and we all one day will. In the spirit of the idea that we are each engaged on a personal journey, the only truth I can authentically speak to is my own, through my process of action and reflection so far.

How I became a pacifist

I haven't always been a pacifist. I got into a lot of fights at school. I didn't start them. If a fight broke out everyone would leave what they were doing and crowd around to form an improvised boxing ring, cheering the likely victors on. Being a fairly tall person, I could usually hold my own. In so doing, like many other boys, I expressed my schoolyard belief that masculinity relies on the willingness to engage in physical combat.

My friendship group was mostly other boys from the Manchester rock music subculture. Although increasingly sure that I wasn't gay myself, I wasn't experienced enough to be certain. The fact that the artists we admired were often androgynous, and the fact it was OK in our group to be gay, meant that the attacks on us had a strongly homophobic tone: 'Moshers!', 'Homos!', 'Poofs'. And so it continued, right through to the final day. At morning break we went to our hangout place, to find it covered with graffiti. A minute later, some boys whizzed past armed with eggs, which they lobbed in our direction. It was a direct hit on our heads. The insides dribbled down our faces and clothes.

'This is it,' we said. 'That's enough.' We thought that if we didn't do something about this now, we'd never get the chance and it was time to teach them a lesson. So, we piled into an older student's car, skipped the morning's lessons to get showered, then stopped by on the way back to the school to the nearest cash-and-carry to buy as many eggs as we could. At the beginning of lunchtime, we were ready.

Fizzy with nerves we walked up to our assailants' smoking area as calmly as we could and started throwing eggs. As our missiles hit their targets, it was as if an army started charging towards us. Within minutes the entire school yard seemed to have descended into a riot and we turned tail and ran. Punches were raining down on us more than ever before.

We escaped to the car again and drove around the corner, shaking all over and patting one another on the back for our bravery. We stopped at a grass verge where we drew medals on one another's shirts. There was something in that act which affected me. I felt sick to the depths of my stomach, then the sensation washed right over me – perhaps even from beyond me – that what I had done was wrong. Sure, it was only eggs, not stones, not bombs. But nevertheless, I found myself thinking that this is how wars begin. I know now that this realisation would change my life. That was the day I became a pacifist.

I didn't have words for that feeling at that time and I wish I might have found an accessible introductory book to pacifist ideas. Fifteen years later, this reflection is an attempt to fill the gap, in a quest to interpret through writing what began as the instinctive promptings of a heartfelt truth.

What is pacifism?

The word pacifist is not widely understood. Culture shapes language, which in turn shapes the way we think and the decisions we make. That we speak of 'nonviolence' reveals that within our culture, violence is the norm. We do not refer to war as 'nonpeace'.

We do, however, have the word pacifist. Even that, though, has come to be most often defined as what it is not – as a refusal to engage in violence. Sometimes it is intentionally misconstrued as a synonym for passivity, or even pacification. At its root though, pacifism means the act of making peace. As such it describes an active process.

Whilst blurring the meaning of pacifism is sometimes the intention of advocates of war, it does touch on a historic tension, still reflected today in movements for peace. As nonviolence educator David Gee (no relation) explains, we find the root of the English word 'peace' in the Latin word pax meaning agreement – in the sense of the word pact – and the Indo-European pag meaning 'fetter' or 'chain'. Those with an interest in classical history will be familiar with the 'Pax Romana' – an imperial peace without justice imposed by Rome militarily on its empire.

That is not the only way to understand the word though: Also translated into English as 'peace' is the Hebrew word shalom and the Arabic salaam. This more spiritual sense denotes 'wholeness, abundance, health, wellbeing – the integrity of our common aliveness'. Understood this way a commitment to peace encompasses a commitment to equality, economic justice and environmental protection. In contrast the origin of the word violence is to 'break'.

The introduction of the word 'pacifist' to the English language is often traced to a speech about a system of international arbitration to resolve conflicts given to the universal peace congress of 1910 which spoke of the need for a word to denote work for a positive peace – rather than mere 'anti-warism'. In the shadow of the First...