By Kishore Shah
Nonviolence as Practice: Early Impressions
In my life’s journey, the idea of nonviolence has been important—both within, at an individual level, and without, in the community and with nature. The context of nonviolence itself has changed over the years as I have moved through life. From the idea of not killing, expressed primarily through a vegetarian diet in childhood, it has evolved into a deeper understanding of nonviolence as the absence of the tendency to harm.
I was born into a Jain family, where being vegetarian was an important part of our identity. On special occasions, some family members and relatives took more extreme vows—such as not eating root vegetables, because insects are killed when they are pulled from the ground, or not eating after sunset, when there was a risk of swallowing insects along with food. These practices reminded us of how important the idea of non-killing was.
Lurking in the background were traditions—songs, stories, and rules of behaviour—which emphasised respect for elders and for each other. And a day dedicated to asking forgiveness of one another.
Ethics extended to business practices, but often fell short when it came to exploitation, or the impact that business could have on the health and wellbeing of customers. My father was strict about the consumption of intoxicants—more than just a teetotaller, he did not drink tea either, only the occasional cup of mild, milky coffee.
Yet he had no qualms about being the chief distributor of cigarettes in the town. Other relatives dealt in arms, supplying guns and ammunition to white settlers. I do not remember anyone dealing in meat—that, perhaps, was where the line was drawn. Everything else was part of the business world.
Debates and Campaigns: Expanding the Frame
The context of nonviolence changed dramatically when I went to university. Narratives around exploitation, violence, and nonviolence were now informed by Marx, Fanon, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, and Malcolm X. We debated whether the ends justified the means, and explored questions of exploitation and alienation.
For the most part, life was oriented towards action in the outer world and cultural liberation. These were the years of the beat generation and the hippies. But the narratives on how to lead from within remained sketchy. There was some space for a spiritual approach to change, but in the larger scheme of things, it remained marginal. Concern for the environment was largely absent; that came later, with the growing awareness sparked by writers such as Rachel Carson.
Finding a Purpose: The Sarvodaya Years
There was another shift in the meaning and practice of nonviolence when I went to India and joined the Sarvodaya movement. For me, this was a conscious coming together of the inner and the outer. The ashram vows—especially the idea of manual labour as an expression of equality—drew me in.
The outer work was no longer about campaigns and protests. It was about giving, sharing, and agency—helping communities become autonomous. We experimented in search of communities where law and order would be sustained through a culture of consensus and reconciliation, and ultimately, where a police force or army would not be required. That was the dream.
Unlike the protest groups on campuses in the US, which often pulled in different directions, the Sarvodaya Sangh was more united in purpose. It offered a different approach to language, culture, and community engagement—a shared direction that strengthened as the movement grew.
But it was not without its tensions. There were differences between institution builders and community builders, between those who wanted to continue using the strategies of the freedom movement and those who felt that changing circumstances required a new context. For some, nonviolence had to evolve into a new language, a new story, and new meanings.
From Movement to Mainstream
Over time, the idea of nonviolence became all-pervasive for me, shaping both background and foreground. This changed as the movement waned and my personal circumstances shifted. My work began to focus more on consolidating the achievements of the Sarvodaya movement—mainstreaming Gandhian ideas within structures of governance.
Gradually, the language and symbols of nonviolence receded into the background, while the foreground became occupied by the culture and language of sustainability. Some fifteen years later, I began to feel that the idea of sustainability only went so far. There was, once again, a calling to return to the search for nonviolence.
A Renewed Inquiry: Nonviolence Today
This new exploration has been quite different from my earlier experiences. It is rooted in a more contemporary search for ethics in a world threatened by environmental degradation and increasingly sophisticated weapons of mass destruction. The context of nonviolence is now better informed—there is a deeper understanding of the mind-body connection, of stages of life and states of consciousness, and of the often invisible connections that shape our lives and the natural world.
The language of interbeing and design thinking has become part of both the context and the content of this exploration. And for me personally, there is a growing awareness of a never-ending journey—one that seeks inner peace alongside peace with the outer world.
The Quiet Shape
Nonviolence no longer feels like a fixed ideal. It has taken on a quieter, subtler shape—one that continues to unfold across a lifetime.
Photo: Mandala at The Tibetan Peace Garden, London
Photo Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons/Mariana Aurélio
Note: This image was originally posted to Flickr by Mariana Aurélio.
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