It’s pretty simple.
One resists evil by doing good, and by being good.
This is a choice open to every one of us. A while ago, Peter Michael Gratton wrote about Hannah Arendt’s essay “Personal Responsibility Under a Dictatorship”. He said “What makes her essay so profound is that she locates resistance not in grand gestures requiring extraordinary heroism, but in preserving one’s capacity to think independently and refuse complicity in evil even when everyone else has capitulated.”
Gratton quotes Arendt:
I had somehow taken it for granted that we all still believe with Socrates that it is better to suffer than to do wrong. This belief turned out to be a mistake. There was a widespread conviction that it is impossible to withstand temptation of any kind, that none of us could be trusted when the chips are down, that to be tempted and to be forced are almost the same.
and he continues: “With such complicity in the background, one might be surprised by Arendt’s relative sympathy for those who typically receive much of the criticism: the ‘nonparticipants’ who chose internal withdrawal—what Germans called ‘Innere Emigration.’ These were the intellectuals, artists, and ordinary citizens who remained physically in Germany during the Nazi period but deliberately withdrew from public life, abstaining from supporting the regime in every way possible. While outwardly an abdication of political responsibility, their stance puts the lie to the claims of many that complicity with the regime was inevitable.”
I’m sitting up here in Canada, a country that may be directly in the crosshairs eventually. I sincerely hope not. Capitulation is not, right now, on the table for me as an individual, but our government has already had to make some concessions and compromises that it did not want to make and that go against its basic values. In Quebec, we have a conservative, populist, racist government. I can, and do, protest certain governmental actions and policies. I have somewhat limited power in the political arena beyond my vote, my written words, and my feet on the streets. There are many fewer limits, though, on my ability to be a good person and to try to do good to those around me. No matter who is in power in our governments, or where we find ourselves, the basic needs of our fellow human beings will still be there.
As an intellectual and artist and musician, what does this mean? For me, resisting evil means seeing who is affected by the cruelty and violence of this world, and trying to help. And there are degrees of affected-ness, aren’t there? We’re all affected: in our moods, our sleep, our stress levels, our ability to function normally, let alone to live and work with happiness and serenity. Some of us are affected economically more than others. Others are afraid, persecuted, separated from loved ones, facing great uncertainty, in detention or prison, or trying to adjust to major life changes.
Where can we actually make a difference? In one small way at a time. In my case, I can intervene by acting through the arts — trying to be a person who brings light into the darkness — and I can take a direct action like buying a winter coat for a refugee, speaking to a homeless person or beggar and asking what they need, listening to a friend who is in despair, contributing to a cause with time or money. It can be as simple as taking a box of canned food to the nearest food bank or shelter, or taking part in collective actions by organizations committed to doing good in the community or on a larger scale. It means thinking and acting beyond the needs of my own family and close friends.
On the most fundamental level, resistance also means taking care of myself so that I have the strength and capacity to help someone else. If I don’t do that, I’m very quickly drained. Self-care does not mean being selfish. There are plenty of people who, for many valid reasons, can just about take care of their basic life and that’s all. But it is no time for people with greater capacity or resources to be self-centered, so we have to take care of ourselves too. Paul wrote, in his letter to the Romans, that it was time to “put off the deeds of darkness, and put on the armor of light.” I find it helpful to think about that image. Because it is true that when we find the things that help us to be strong and resilient in the face of evil, it is like putting on spiritual armor.
For me, this can mean an hour with my flute or piano; drawing, writing, or reading literature and poetry; keeping some order, cleanliness and beauty in my home; and above all, noticing the world around me. While I’ve been writing here just now, in late afternoon, the sunlight crossed this room. I stopped for a moment and looked at the objects I’ve put on the shelf above my desk, because they are meaningful to me, including my father-in-law’s statue of Socrates. I watched a large flock of crows flying over my building to the north. I remembered to breathe.
And I felt more able to to go on. So can you.
