Weaponized Pacifism

The Paradox of Pacifism and Abuse

Content Warning: This piece discusses sensitive topics, including childhood sexual abuse (SA), systemic abuse, religious patriarchy, and the complexities of pacifism. Reader discretion advised.

When harm happens in communities that preach peace, silence can become a weapon. I’ve seen and lived how pacifism twists to protect abusers rather than the abused. My abuser during my teenage years identified as a pacifist. It was then that I began to question what ‘peace’ really means in a nonresistant culture that shelters violence within its communities.

Where does self-defense end and violence begin? Am I even allowed to fight back? I wrestled with both of these questions as I simultaneously tried to wrestle back my freedom from my abuser.

What does pacifism look like in moments of terror, especially when one exists at the bottom of the religious patriarchal pyramid?

Living within the confines of a high-control, patriarchal structure, I grappled with the impossible choices: resist and sin, or endure violence in the name of being Christ-like. It’s a deafening and mind-numbing dissonance - something people hesitate to address, because acknowledging what pacifism has become requires confronting uncomfortable truths.

Pacifism no longer serves as a moral guide;
it's become a restrictive cage within conservative Anabaptist communities.

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When discussing the need to end generational and systemic childhood SA in the Amish/conservative Mennonite communities, it’s crucial to recognize these conversations often oversimplify a complex issue. While breaking the silence and confronting toxic forgiveness are vital steps for victims, speech alone cannot dismantle deeply rooted abusive systems.

At the root of the cycle of SA and other types of abuse lies a belief system that protects abusers under the guise of faith. A structure of values and fears that binds communities together and insulates them from accountability.

Unless we change the mindset involving abuse from sin to crime, from private repentance to public accountability, the narrative will persist in a faith community cloaked behind words like peace, forgiveness, humility, and pacifism. We must name how theology, the hierarchy, and the culture intertwine to allow abuse to continue generation after generation in conservative Anabaptist communities. Otherwise, old patterns will inevitably slither back, even if one generation stops the abuse.

Interestingly, the pacifist identity hardly gets recognized as part of the systemic and generational SA. I grew up steeped in pacifist history: stories of ancestors who hid in barns to avoid conscription, an ancestor who kicked rifles from his sons’ hands, and non-combatant Anabaptist men who served in WWI. My father, a conscientious objector, served his time in the Civilian Public Service program (1-W) at the Norristown Psychiatric Hospital. Many conservative Anabaptist children’s upbringings included the weight of the Martyrs Mirror, a text central to pacifist narratives.

Yet, rarely considered are the moral complexities which arise when these pacifist beliefs intersect with abuse or how they profoundly shape beliefs and actions within these communities.

Hochstetler House (John’s little house), Spruce Village, MD

It’s important to note that conservative Anabaptist groups often regard the world’s courts as worldly and sinful, believing it is the church’s responsibility to address intra-community conflicts. Consequently, assault between community members isn’t considered a crime but a sin to be forgiven. As a result, survivors who seek justice and involve the world’s legal systems are frequently labeled un-Christian, retaliatory, rebellious, and even bitter. Ironically, those same people who stand in judgment of survivors for using worldly means to attain justice would summon the police for theft or severe physical harm.

If tragedy strikes from the outside, community leaders often plead for leniency toward perpetrators - something the world often admires. However, in doing so, they overlook an essential truth: justice is sacred because life is sacred. By standing with the perpetrator, these pacifist communities betray the very teachings of Christ.

Christlike love recognizes, honors, and stands with the wounded. 
Standing with an abuser is to stand against life itself.

‘Preacher’s Table’

Another critical belief layer is the sacred patriarchy. Rename it ‘servant leadership,’ but it remains a patriarchal structure designed to protect those in power. Men decide what constitutes harm or healing, while women and children are told to forgive, move on, and pray for those who harmed them, often at their own expense. When you dig deeper, you’ll find even the language of peace becomes weaponized, stifling genuine communication.

Individuals grow up learning to avoid addressing issues directly, to bury your needs under a layer of politeness, and to conflate silence with holiness and peace. In this day-to-day usage, pacifism ceases to function as a moral compass and instead acts as a muzzle of passive-aggressive communication.

When truth hides beneath the guise of peace for too long, shame becomes misplaced. Therefore, victims are shamed for speaking out, while forgiveness becomes a shield for the abuser. Blame slides down the hierarchical pyramid, ultimately settling on the injured person.

Ironically, the community often fails to recognize this misplaced shame. So integrated is the toxic and misused language of peace, that it’s mistaken for holiness. But it isn’t peace. It’s erasure.

True peace doesn’t silence pain; 
     it confronts it. 
Authentic forgiveness doesn’t erase accountability; 
     it demands it. 
To protect the perpetrator while vilifying the victim isn’t Christ-like; 
     it is cruelty masquerading as compassion.

What pacifist Anabaptists must begin to ask themselves is this: What must their communities confront to reconcile their pacifist beliefs with the urgent need for justice and healing for survivors? Is it time to redefine pacifism in a way that effectively addresses SA and upholds justice?

Pacifism’s aim was never to preserve institutions;
it was to protect the sacredness of life. 

When the world recognizes the value of the wounded more clearly than the church?
It is not the world that has strayed.