peace – Embody Peacebuilding

On Peacebuilding and Sandcastles

As a practice, I find curiosity about language to be very helpful, opening new pathways of understanding and orienting to what might often be unseen or unheard in the words we use. Sometimes this practice takes form through an exploration of etymologies, tracing the roots of words, the journey these collections of letters and syllables have taken through time. Sometimes this practice takes form through an exploration of metaphor, a consideration of the imagery that words evoke. I am fascinated by the possibilities that language holds to reinforce dominant narratives and paradigms, and conversely to reimagine and redefine wor[l]ds.

Through my engagement in peacebuilding, I have increasingly found myself caught up by the very term that defines the field. In many ways it is helpful, emphasizing the action of construction – building relationships across all levels and in all sectors of society that facilitate greater peace in both the absence of direct violence (negative peace) and the presence of attitudes, institutions, and structures that uphold and sustain a just and peaceful society (positive peace).

And yet in the dominant metaphors that arise in relationship to the term ‘building,’ I take pause. I have heard peacebuilding imagined as ‘building the house of peace.’ Perhaps it is a limitation of my imagination, or my cultural influences that impose a linear and regulated process of such a construction. There are aspects of this process that are immensely relevant and arguably necessary for peacebuilding, including: attentiveness to preparation, establishing a strong foundation, developing proper scaffolding, including ‘weather proofing’ elements to support the sustainability of the structure, and balancing the distribution of energy patterns.¹

At the same time, in my exposure to construction (at least from my cultural context), there are also aspects that are present in the field of peacebuilding that are less helpful, potentially detrimental. For example, the imposition of unrealistic timelines that may or may not account for delays in the accessibility or availability of certain resources or changes in context that create such delays, the expectation that the final structure will perfectly match the blueprint, the time bound nature and externalization of the task of construction.

Acknowledging both the possibilities and limitations of this metaphor, I became curious of how different imagery could offer new layers of understanding and orientations to practice.² In particular, what is offered if peacebuilding is imagined akin to building a sandcastle?

Shores, Tides, and Time

While sandcastles can be built anywhere both sand and water are accessible, they are often built at the edge of a body of water. They are situated in the in-between space, the liminal place of encounter between land and water. In this space, waves lap the shore, tides ebb and flow, water saturates the sand. It is a place where binaries are obsolete – there is no static or concrete delineation of where the land ends and the water begins.

Where peacebuilding takes form, while social, political, and cultural divisions may characterize the dominant landscape (just as from afar one might say, there is the land and there is the water), the historical and lived realities are infinitely ambiguous and complex. And in fact, it is through the embrace of this ambiguity, the transcendence of binaries, that peacebuilding is possible.

The water’s edge is characterized by a constant ebb and flow of waves and tides, which move in cycles. Waves crash and retreat much faster, in the course of seconds, whereas tides rise and fall over the course of a lunar day. In some moments, waves crash with immense power and in other moments waves lap gently against the shore. In this context, the placement of a sandcastle is vital as these cycles pose differing levels of risk for its destruction.

This movement and risk parallel the rhythms of cycles of violence as they threaten efforts to build peace. In acute, hot conflict, sometimes direct violence rages and other times there is a semblance of pause, though the risk remains ever-present. On a longer timeline, conflicts ebb and flow generationally, in constant transformation over time. Thus, efforts to craft peace are constantly confronted with the presence and possibility of violence. In this context, an important question that emerges is: How do we cultivate and practice discernment in the planning and strategy of peacebuilding that holds in awareness the rhythms and predictabilities of cycles of violence?

Bridging Grains

Building sandcastles is possible as a result of surface tension – the force of attraction between water molecules. In the mix of sand and water, water molecules forms liquid ‘bridges’ between the grains of sand.³ These liquid bridges enable the structure to take form. It is important to have the right balance of water and sand, otherwise the structure will not hold. This balance may need to be actively supported, adding more water as the sand dries out. Further, to maximize the strength of the liquid bridges that hold the structure each grain must be coated with water.⁴ Within these dynamics, there are a number of key insights for peacebuilding practice.

The role of bridging and the centrality of relationship are immensely important aspects of peacebuilding. Durable change happens slowly, over time, and through the cultivation of relationships that traverse social, political, economic, and religious divides. Structural and societal transformation cannot take place without the existence of bridges embodied in people and processes at the granular level.

In a shift from the theory of ripeness in processes of change – the idea that change unfolds only when the circumstances or conflict has matured sufficiently – John Paul Lederach has suggested a theory of rightness. When the right people come together at the right place at the right time, new possibilities can emerge. This is encapsulated through Lederach’s metaphor of the critical yeast. Adding to the role of a critical mass in bringing about large-scale social change, Lederach notes that it is not only in the quantity of people involved, but “rather in creating the quality of the platform that makes exponential growth strong and possible, and then in finding ways to sustain that platform.”⁵ Transformation is thus facilitated through bringing together the right balance of elements (people, context, timing, etc.), and sustaining those elements over time.

Lastly, for peacebuilding efforts to be relevant and sustainable, they must be as participatory and accessible as possible. While reaching each person in society may not be realistic, the effectiveness and strength of change efforts is bolstered when more people in society feel they have voice and agency relative to their own lives and the future of their community.

Containers, Relationships, and Systems

Sandcastles are built by virtue of containers. Pails, hands, shovels, or shells are filled with wet sand. The sand, bound by liquid bridges, takes the shape of the container it fills. Then the sand is deposited onto the growing structure. It is through the fitting and scaffolding of these differently or perhaps similarly molded constellations of sand together that the sandcastle is formed. To ensure there is not excess water mixed with the sand, it is helpful for the containers to be permeable, with holes at the bottom to let excess water drain out. If approached strategically, the drained water can serve to dampen the next patch of sand that will be shaped.

In Lederach and Lederach’s exploration of sonic metaphors for reconciliation and social healing, they consider the metaphor of a container in particular reference to that of a Tibetan singing bowl. They suggest “social healing and reconciliation emerge in and around the container that holds collective processes, inclusive of but significantly more than the individual’s particular journey.”⁶ From a systemic perspective, it is helpful to consider peacebuilding and social change as it emerges from a constellation of containers. For example, there may be collective processes focusing on humanitarian response, another on access to education, another on legal advocacy, and another on trauma healing, just to name a few. Peace and justice are best created and pursued through the harmonizing of these approaches so that they can be mutually supportive.

In this orientation toward mutual support, it is important to acknowledge the unique contributions a given approach to social change offers and at the same to notice and nurture the ways in which these approaches are connected. This relationship may be one of sequentiality, whereby certain conditions must be obtained for other efforts to be undertaken. This relationship may also be one of simultaneity, whereby different efforts toward change are supported alongside one another. Remembering and attending to these dynamics of relationship is critical to systemic change, inviting a strategic approach to how given efforts can prepare conditions for future change and how concurrent processes are themselves permeable, each impacting the other.

Temporality and Sustainability

While sandcastles may often be associated with temporality – washed away by the waves and the wind – this dissolution primarily occurs because they cease to be tended. Without the addition of water to reinforce the bridges between grains of sand, these bridges may dry and disappear. When wind blows or a large wave comes, without a consistent presence to attend to and repair the impact, the damage risks compromising the entire structure. Sometimes the forces are too strong and the sandcastle in its existing form is destroyed. However, all of the elements remain to build anew, integrating the experience and learnings from the previous iteration to construct a stronger and more sustainable structure.

Peacebuilding endeavors occur in volatile and unpredictable contexts whereby threats to process are ever-present. The momentum of multiple currents of violence is powerful and strong, posing risk to the durability of such efforts. While funding and programmatic cycles are often short term with a focus on immediate impact, it is important to consider the long-term sustainability of peace. How are peacebuilding efforts sustained? By who? And how are those who are active in sustaining the peace themselves supported for this life long and generational practice?

At times, peacebuilding efforts may crumble, however that does not make the efforts futile. To begin again, despite the difficulty and despite the risks, is an embodiment of active hope, a commitment to the conviction that a different way of being together is possible. With each new beginning, different possibilities may be opened as learnings from previous experience are integrated and the craft of building peace is refined.

Dig Deep, Not Wide

There are multiple ways in which to prepare sand and water to build a sandcastle. It is possible to move back and forth, into and out of the water to collect water to dampen the sand. It is also possible to dig a self-replenishing water hole. The key in this approach is to dig deep to reach the water laden sand below. With the intention and motion of digging deep, inevitable the hole will widen.

Focusing here on both the preparation and sustenance of practice and the practitioner, there are two key considerations that arise from this image of valuing depth over breadth. Firstly, for practice, how is peacebuilding approached in such a way that the envisioned change is deep enough to be self-sustaining, rather than fleeting and surface level? Further, how are the place-based resources to create and sustain transformation accessed and uplifted, rather than relying on external sources? Secondly, for practitioners, how are we, as people involved in peacebuilding, supported to dig into our own depths to access our own sources of nourishment and replenishment?

Pause in the Messiness

Building sandcastles is messy. Immersed in the elements, it is inevitable that one becomes covered in wet sand and is hit by a wave or more in the process. Sometimes it is necessary to pause, brush or rinse oneself off as the discomfort of the sand may impact not only the process of building the sandcastle, but also the experience of it.

For peacebuilding practitioners, both people working in their home context and people engaged internationally, the context and nature of the field cannot but adhere and begin to impact at the level of practice and individual wellbeing. This may manifest as direct or vicarious experiences of trauma, burnout, or compassion fatigue, as just a few of many possible experiences of dis-ease common amongst practitioners. To the extent possible, it is important to integrate opportunities for pause, reflection, and respite – to take distance from the intensity of the work so as to be able to return and continue with greater clarity and resourcing.

Embrace Slow Work

Building sandcastles requires a slow approach. It may take time to come to the right balance of water and sand to best support the integrity of the bonds between the grains and thus the strength of the structure. Once containers are filled with damp sand, they must be placed and lifted away with care. Moving too quickly the molded sand risks collapsing. A slow and steady hand is important to accompany the cohesion and stability of the sandy arrangement.

Though the volatile conflict environments in which peacebuilding unfolds are often highly dynamic and characterized but numerous urgent competing demands, the work of social transformation unfolds slowly, over decades and generations. As Bayo Akomolafe has said, “the time is very urgent – we must slow down.”⁷ There are moments in which responding to the urgency of a conflict situation is necessary. At the same time, it is important not to succumb to the pull of urgency, which can so easily engulf people and processes, causing great harm through, for example, burn out and unwise decisionmaking. Choosing to slow down, to move with intention, to prioritize relationship is countercultural, the choice itself an act of resistance to the dominant culture of urgency and productivity. This choice is an embodiment of care, for self and for others, and therein an embodiment of a way of being supportive of a more peaceful and just world.

Play

The process of building a sandcastle is inherently playful and creative. Often an activity children and adults delight in when at the beach, it can also be experienced as a honed craft and artform. Sandcastles invite and encourage play and imagination, creativity and expression.⁸

Play and imagination are highly underappreciated experiences and facets of peacebuilding. As a relatively new field that in some ways is still trying to establish itself on a global scale, peacebuilding has prioritized procedures over playfulness, data over delight. This is not to say that process, evaluation, and technicalities are not important. Rather, it is to acknowledge that play, creativity, and imagination are critical components and pathways to worldbuilding.

It is said that a challenge will not be surmounted through the same mindset that created it. Violence, conflict, and injustice are incredibly serious challenges, which we cannot serious our way out of. From the perspective of trauma, in experiences of acute trauma at the individual level, the capacity to access play and imagination are compromised. Creating opportunities for trauma impacted individuals to explore, regain, or perhaps experience authentic, unthreatened play for the first time is an important part of the healing journey.

There is much to be gained by not only integrating, but centering more opportunities for play and imagination in our peacebuilding efforts. The possibilities this holds for healing and transformation, from the individual to the collective, are immense.

Concluding Thoughts

There is no perfect metaphor, each analogy only offering some different ways of illustrating and understanding a given experience or thing. Guided by a curiosity around the imagery in the question: what peacebuilding is building?, the metaphor of a sandcastle suggests and centers different elements of process and practice than tend to dominate the field, which I find quite helpful. I hope this curiosity and exploration may be helpful, if not in the insights it brings forward, then in the approach, perhaps inspiring new imagery and thus possibilities in our work toward a world that is more peaceful, just, and dignified for all.

References

¹ Lederach, John Paul. “Beyond Violence: Building Sustainable Peace.” Belfast, Northern Ireland: Northern Ireland Community Relations Council, 1994.

² The inspiration for such an exploration is from Angie and John Paul Lederach, who together wrote an entire book exploring sonic metaphors in relationship with peacebuilding, reconciliation, and healing. Lederach, John Paul, and Angela Jill Lederach. When Blood and Bones Cry Out: Journeys Through the Soundscape of Healing and Reconciliation. Santa Lucia, Queensland: University of Queensland Press, 2010. https://www.uqp.com.au/books/when-blood-and-bones-cry-out-journeys-through-the-soundscape-of-healing-and-reconciliation.

³ Lucinda Wierenga, “How to Build the Perfect Sandcastle,” The Guardian (Guardian News and Media, July 31, 2009), https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/01/how-to-build-perfect-sandcastle.

⁴ Lara, “The Science behind: Sandcastle Building,” KiwiCo, August 27, 2019, https://www.kiwico.com/blog/the-science-behind/the-science-behind-sandcastle-building.

⁵ John Paul Lederach. The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace (New York, New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 93.

⁶ John Paul Lederach and Angie Lederach, When Blood and Bones Cry Out: Journeys Through the Soundscape of Healing and Reconciliation (New York, New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 103.

⁷ Báyò Akómoláfé, “The Times Are Urgent: Let’s Slow down,” Báyò Akómoláfé, https://www.bayoakomolafe.net/post/the-times-are-urgent-lets-slow-down.

⁸ In this reflection, I acknowledge and give gratitude to Paul Hutchinson, who has encouraged and nurtured an imaginative and creative approach to social change. As one example, he guided a session exploring peace as an island, rife with metaphors and an incitement to imagining new ways of being and doing, with particular grounding in the context of the island of Ireland.

On Patience, Perseverance, and Practice

Through the alchemy of forests and friendships, my love of rock climbing has recently been rekindled. I am a novice climber, delighting in and curious about all that this movement practice holds. In the short time that I have returned to climbing, I have found myself curious about the interplay it offers between patience, perseverance, and practice.

Patience. From the Latin patientia, meaning “the quality of suffering,” which is present participle of pati, meaning “to endure, undergo, experience.”¹

Perseverance. From the Latin perseverantia, meaning “steadfastness, constancy” or the “quality of continuing or enduring.”

Whereas patience conveys a particular orientation to the experience of navigating challenging and painful circumstances, perseverance evokes a commitment to endure through the circumstances, to stick with it. This necessitates practice – the repetition of an action; trying and trying again and again and again.

When I climb, my current approach is primarily to repeatedly work routes that are (for me) accessible with a bit of challenge. Every once in a while, however, I mix in attempts of routes of a higher difficulty. These attempts often go like this:

Approach the wall.

Try out a starting position.

Fall.

Try a new starting position.

Get on the wall.

Fall.

Walk away.

Approach the wall.

Get into the starting position.

Reach for the next hold.

Fall.

Rest.

Approach the wall.

Get into the starting position.

Reach for the next hold.

Grip.

Shift body.

Step up.

Fall.

Rest.

The pattern is consistent. Try. Fall. Try again. Fall again. Over and over. But each fall is not a failure. If I am attentive enough, each time I fall, I notice what didn’t work and what I need to change: how to shift my body position, how to move my leg, how to bend my elbow, how to place my foot. Each time I fall, I have the opportunity to fail better. Eventually, with enough perseverance, I might fail my way to the top, completing the route. This might happen in one climbing session, or over the course of days or weeks.

It is not purely a matter of persistence, however. If, in my repeated attempts to climb a route, I become frustrated or overly fearful – tense in body and mind – I fall much sooner, unable to reach the height or a hold I previously attained. And so, I am learning to be patient – not to force, but rather to take my time and approach each new attempt with curiosity and ease. When I approach the wall, I exhale and relax my arms. As I reach for the first hold and step my feet up, I whisper to myself “easy, easy.” When I intentionally choose and cultivate fluidity and ease in my movement, even as my muscles and strength are strained, I climb much better and move nearer toward my goal.

If I successfully complete a route, I try again. Movement coach and my dear friend Julie Angel shared with me an approach to learning a new movement skill that says: Once is never. Twice is maybe. Three times you have it. I’ve integrated this into my climbing practice, reclimbing each route. Every time I do, I find new ways of moving, positioning, and placing my body that are more fluid, steady, and assured. Cultivating these patterns of movement and mind, I find myself stronger, more courageous, and more creative in my attempts at new routes, new challenges.

Climbing, I am finding, offers an invitation to practice patient perseverance, to repeatedly embody and enact a quality of presence and engagement with challenging and difficult circumstances. In another framing, it is an invitation to practice a quality of presence and engagement we carry in our navigation, and eventual transformation, of conflict.

John Paul Lederach suggests that the transformative work of peacebuilding lies in the fostering of a certain quality of relationship, particularly between people who are differently situated or differently minded in society.² At the core of this is the quality of presence we carry in the conflicts we encounter, a compassionate presence that honors the dignity and humanity of those around us, especially with those deemed as “other.”³ The cultivation of such a quality of presence requires patience, perseverance, and practice.

We must be patient for we are all human. We all carry wounds and we have all caused harm. In the process of reconciliation and conflict transformation, we must be patient with ourselves and others as we make mistakes and stumble along the long and arduous journey of relational repair.⁴

We must persevere for the conflicts we face within ourselves, in our relationships, and in our world are vast and complex. They will not be solved with quick-fixes, instead asking of us commitment to the process, especially in moments where the challenges we face seem insurmountable, when our endurance and perhaps even our hope is tested.

We must practice for so long as we live, we encounter conflict. With each such encounter we are given an opportunity to embody ways of moving and being in relationship that center dignity and care.

Whether at the crux of a climbing route or the impasse of a conflict, cultivating patient perseverance can help us to transcend the limitations we may initially perceive. We persist in the challenging moments, trusting that there is a way through. We will fail often, possibly many more times than we succeed. But perhaps, with enough intention and presence, each time we can fail better, moving us closer in the direction of generative change.

¹“Patience,” Etymology, https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=patience.

² “John Paul Lederach – The Art of Peace,” The On Being Project, November 8, 2021, https://onbeing.org/programs/john-paul-lederach-the-art-of-peace/.

³ Lederach, John Paul. “Compassionate Presence: Faith-Based Peacebuilding in the Face of Violence.” Joan B. Kroc Distinguished Lecture Series. Lecture, February 16, 2012. https://digital.sandiego.edu/lecture_series/3/.

⁴ It is notable here that the word patience shares a root with compassion, which comes from the Latin compati, com meaning “with, together” and pati, translated as “to suffer.” In other words, compassion is the quality of how are together with or alongside suffering.

Generous Presence

For all the conversations I’ve engaged with exploring differing facets of love, and the snippets of thought I’ve put on to paper, rarely have I dedicated the time and space to delve more deeply into love through the written word. There are many contributing factors to this, some practical and others that invite more reflection. To the extent that the essence of love, in the fact of its existence, is something that exceeds any constellation of words that might attempt to capture it, perhaps I find myself hesitant to try to put words to the experience or expression of love I seek to live into. To the extent that change is the only constant, and any given orientation toward love unfolds and shifts over time, perhaps I find myself hesitant to capture the essence of a moment that is fleeting. In all these hesitations, I reflect on the teachers in my life that have offered guidance in the ways in which I understand and orient toward love. I reflect on the poets, artists, and wise persons whose works capture the ineffable and the vastness of a single moment. I reflect, too, on my own experience of love as a spiritual essence and guide, emergent most strongly through the co-cultivation of relationship with others. Honoring all of these elements, and moving into a space of compassionate inquiry within myself, I dedicate myself to practice, to exploring into the unfolding of love, what it is to love, to be loved, and to be love.

In speaking into the ways in which I orient toward love, I notice myself drawing upon ways in which others have defined this most powerful essence of life. Recently in conversation with a dear friend, I felt into my body as he expressed his own experience of love and most specifically in the moments where he was clear in his intention to not define what love is, but rather reflect on its presence in his life. I so deeply appreciated this way in which he spoke into this. It resonated profoundly and elicited this very reflection, to explore more deeply not how I might align with a given definition of love, and instead to explore the way I experience its emergence within me and beyond me.

My love for love unfolded in the recognition of its revolutionary, radical, and subversive power, which emerged through my yoga practice. I can remember the specific moment where this all coalesced, where the realization power of love for justice came most fully into my consciousness. This moment arose several years after my practice began, but my path in yoga has always been one of the heart.

I first arrived at my yoga practice because of my heart, my physical heart. It was hurting, neglected and abused. I deprived myself of nourishment to the point that my heart suffered, as my body began to pull nutrients from my muscles and organs to survive. In recovery, I began practicing yoga as a way to move my body without overburdening my heart. Unknowingly, from the very beginning I have had a heart-centered practice. Since that time, I have come to understand, more so, I have felt my way to the understanding that yoga is all about the heart. Not the physical heart necessarily, but that which the heart holds and represents – love. My practice now is one of heart, of love, of agape – the unlimited kind of love that sees no exception, a love of and for all from the smallest individual to the largest community. It is a soul connection love, one that honors every being as deeply connected and as inherently and equally valuable just as they are. It is a love of radical healing and wholeness.

In a conversation about love with one of my beloved teachers, she shared with me these words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.” These words shook my body, reverberating through every cell. The expression of my spiritual practice through yoga found alignment with my engagement in personal and social transformation.

The guiding questions in the field of peace and justice are simple, for all the immense complexity they hold. How do we live peacefully? How do we move toward and enact justice? How do we heal? How do we remember our wholeness, as individuals, communities, and with the world? How do we create a world in which the truth of everyone’s belonging is realized? For each of these questions, love offers an answer. Love in action is the commitment to and realization of fierce belonging. Love is the remembrance of our wholeness, individually and collectively. Love is the essence that permeates spaces of perceived separation and fragmentation, the force of healing in its truest sense of becoming whole. As Dr. Cornel West says, “justice is what love looks like in public.” Love is the guiding intention that allows for the navigation of relationship in a compassionate and transformative way.

With love as a compass and a destination, this does not deny accountability and critical engagement in the way in which we are present and the way in which we support others to be present in the work of justice and liberation. Rather, it supports a more full and compassionate commitment to the realization of justice, as it is an act of love to support oneself and others in acting, speaking, and being in a way that upholds the dignity of all beings. This is a practice of radical presence, of awareness of ourselves situated across time and space, situated a vast and ever changing array of relationships. It is in this way that we find, generous presence is love embodied.

Embodying the Moral Imagination :: Chapter 1

Laura Webber, M.A.

Below is an excerpt from my master’s capstone project, “Embodying the Moral Imagination: A Theoretical and Pedagogical Framework Exploring the Value of Practices of Embodiment in the Education of Peace Practitioners.”

Peacebuilding, at its essence, is about relationship. The practice of peace is to support generative relationships that allow for individual and collective thriving, and to support in the transformation of relationships that inhibit this experience. A conflictual relationship is one characterized by dissonance, whereas a peaceful relationship is one of harmony. Harmony does not necessitate sameness. In fact, it only arises through the resonance of varying frequencies. While certainly harmony and dissonance are sonic experiences, so too are they felt in and through the body. As the body is that which mediates our experience of the world, it is that through which we experience violence, conflict, and peace (Acarón, 2016). To the extent that peacebuilding necessitates a facility in navigating various landscapes of conflict, presence to these landscapes and the movement of the body through them is of great value. To this end, attending to the symphony of sensations and experiences that emanate from within and impact the body offers a way to attune the vehicle of the body to and through the navigation of conflict landscapes (see Figure 1 for an illustration of conflict landscapes).

Despite this value of embodied presence, little attention is paid to nurturing embodied self-awareness[1] and exploring the possibilities of practices of embodiment in peace education. With regard to the relationship between practices of embodiment and peacebuilding, there is precedent of this integration in both theory and practice (Acarón Rios, 2016; Acarón, 2018; Alexander & LeBaron, 2013; Beausoleil & LeBaron, 2013; Deer, 2000; Eddy, 2002; Eddy, 2016; Jeffrey, 2017; LeBaron, MacLeod, & Acland, 2013). Even so, the literature pertaining to practices of embodiment in peacebuilding is, as yet, fairly limited and far from mainstream. More extensive literatures exist with regard to the role of emotion in decision making and conflict resolution, the value of creative and arts-based approaches to peacebuilding, the potency of embodied practices for healing, and embodied pedagogies in education. Through an interdisciplinary approach, drawing from the existent literature, I seek to address the following question: How do practices of embodiment inform and deepen our understanding of established disciplines of peacebuilding and enhance the capacity of peace practitioners to navigate conflict landscapes?

Prior to mapping out how I will explore this question, it is necessary to provide clarification about its constituent elements by offering working definitions for the terms employed.

Embodiment is a nuanced concept. While there exist many definitions, the definition employed here is drawn from Thomas Csordas, who offers that embodiment is “attending ‘with’ and attending ‘to’ the body” (1993, 138), therein evoking the multidimensionality of embodiment wherein, the internal experience of sensations and emotions in the body is not separate from the dynamics that exist beyond the boundary of the skin. We perceive the world through the body, and cultivating attention and awareness to the body as our vehicle of perception serves to broaden and deepen that which we can perceive, within ourselves and in relationship with the world around us. Yet, as Csordas observes, “although our bodies are always present, we do not always attend to and with them” (1993, 139). In seeking avenues to deepen the attention we pay with and to the body, specifically with the intention to support peace practitioners in navigating geographies of conflict, I suggest three transecting landscapes of consideration: the intrapersonal (one’s relationship with oneself), the interpersonal (one’s relationship with other people), and the external (one’s relationship with the space one inhabits).[2]

The term “practices of embodiment” refers to practices that are guided with attention with and to the body. To this end, such practices are not about the form, but rather the quality and direction of attention they invite.[3] In other words, these practices are contingent upon the ‘how’ rather than the ‘what.’ For example, breathing can be a practice of embodiment if, when breathing, you draw attention to the texture of the air in your throat, the shape change of your body as the air fills your lungs, or the way in which a slow and steady exhalation can soothe and ground you.

For the purposes of this exploration, the disciplines and practices of peacebuilding that will be engaged are those articulated by John Paul Lederach in his book The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Peacebuilding (2005). This text emerges from Lederach’s decades of experience in the field supporting the work of peacebuilding. He explores the question of how we might transcend cycles of violence that grip the human community, even while remaining embedded within them. The capacity to transcend violence, he offers, lies in the generation, mobilization, and building of the moral imagination (2005, 5). The four disciplines of the moral imagination are:

“the capacity to imagine ourselves in a web of relationships that includes our enemies; the ability to sustain a paradoxical curiosity that embraces complexity without reliance on dualistic polarity; the fundamental belief in and pursuit of the creative act; and the acceptance of the inherent risk of stepping into the mystery of the unknown that lies beyond the far too familiar landscape of violence” (2005, 5).

In the writing of this framework, I strive to embody the elements of these disciplines. Accordingly, this framework is predicated upon an understanding of the web of relationships we carry within ourselves (the interconnection of body, mind, and spirit) and the web of relationships we inhabit that connects all people and all things. Through both an exploration of practices of embodiment as they support peace practitioners and the elaboration of a pedagogical framework in which such practices can be engaged, I consider ways we may practice paradoxical curiosity to transcend restrictive dualism of mind/body, self/other, and beyond. With an acknowledgment of the relative absence of embodied practice in graduate level peace education, this framework itself is a creative act, encouraging a new way of imagining peace education. In this light, I acknowledge there may be some risk in offering the possibility a different paradigm that invites us to explore alternative domains of learning, integrating body and mind.

In the theoretical framework laid out in the following chapters, I will explore the value of practices of embodiment for peace practitioners as they support a navigation of these three interrelated landscapes mentioned above: intrapersonal, interpersonal, and external. For each of these landscapes, practices of embodiment support peace practitioners by respectively deepening and broadening internal awareness, enhancing relational skills, and illuminating social and structural dynamics. Thus, my thesis holds that practices of embodiment support peace practitioners by nurturing deep presence, enhancing self-awareness, and cultivating intentionality relative to oneself, others, and the spaces we inhabit.

Beginning with an exploration of the intrapersonal landscape, such practices support peace practitioners not only in the intensity of a conflictual moment, but also promote resilience and longevity. Practices of embodiment increase interoceptive capacity, a connection to the felt sense in the ability to feel what is arising internally for an individual as well as the ability to perceive what is arising for others. Such attunement and perception strengthen our intuitive sense, which enables peace practitioners to pick up on subtleties in a conflict dynamic that may hold the seeds for the conflict’s transformation. Practices of embodiment enhance our capacity for self-regulation, an essential skill in the navigation of the complex domains of conflict, violence, and injustice (Eddy, 2016). Practices of embodiment can also support healing and the processing of emotion. For peace practitioners who may be drawn to this work resultant from past experiences of trauma and who are likely to encounter potentially traumatic experiences during the course of our careers, engaging in practices that can support such healing is invaluable. Similarly, practices of embodiment can support the longevity and sustainability of peace practitioners, as such practices can increase resiliency through enhancing skills of self-regulation and providing avenues through which to process intense emotion.

From the intrapersonal landscape, we move outward to the interpersonal landscape – from relationship with oneself to relationship with others. Three primary areas of consideration in this landscape are processes of attunement and co-regulation, the cultivation of kinesthetic empathy, and presence to non-verbal communication. The ability to connect authentically and presently with others is in many ways contingent upon our level of presence to ourselves. As cultivating trusting and transformative relationships is central for peace practitioners to be effective in our work, presence to our internal landscapes in relationship to others is vital. The ability to attune and connect with empathy and compassion with others is valuable not only for peace practitioners in the relationships we cultivate, but is imperative for communities affected by violence and conflict. Thus, not only are practices of embodiment that support the navigation of the interpersonal landscape beneficial for practitioners, they can also be adapted and shared as a means of building connection and relationship between individuals and groups in the peacebuilding process.

The third landscape of consideration pertains to the external landscape we inhabit. Spatial awareness is of great value of peace practitioners, in the way in which we create and co-create spaces, as well as the space we hold within ourselves. Practices of embodiment can support an exploration of the way the body inhabits physical, social, political, and historical spaces. Integrating practices of critical self-reflection, attention to the body offers an avenue to consider our own positionality, the identities we hold that are expressed through our bodies. With regard to ethical considerations for peacebuilders, and attention to the way in which we are perceived by others relative to dynamics of power, privilege, and oppression, is crucial. This elicits further sensitivity toward structural violence, the impact of oppression on the body, and the histories carried by the body, which draws on research around epigenetics and the transgenerational transmission of trauma. Further, we are brought to reflect upon the way in which spaces shape us and the way in which we shape the spaces we are in, a dynamic and everchanging process (Acarón, 2016).

Practices of embodiment, drawing attention to and with the body, thus offer myriad benefits for peace practitioners. With regard to the ways in which such practices can enhance and deepen understandings of established disciplines of peacebuilding, we turn toward various pedagogical literatures, and most specifically approaches of experiential education. As shared by Rae Johnson:

“Scholars in experiential learning (Boud, 1985; Kolb, 1984) assert that we learn about the world and ourselves in an interactive, ongoing action/reflection cycle. As we encounter new information and experiences, these interactions with the world change our view of ourselves and our relationships to others. From an experiential perspective, learning is a complex, holistic activity that is deeply informed by who learners are, what they already know and believe, and how their life experiences have influenced and affected them” (Johnson, 2014, 82).

In a future curriculum, I will offer means through which to explore disciplines of peacebuilding as set forth by John Paul Lederach in a deeply experiential way. More precisely, the disciplines of peacebuilding will be explored through practices of embodiment, as a means to bring theory into form and truly ‘Embody the Moral Imagination.’

Through the theoretical framework provided in the succeeding three chapters, I address multiple ways in which practices of embodiment can enhance the capacity of peace practitioners to navigate geographies of conflict. Moving from the intrapersonal to the external landscapes, I seek to illuminate the connections between the micro and the macro, and the ways in which attention and awareness in each landscape provide the foundation from which greater nuance and discernment can unfold. The penultimate chapter details a pedagogical approach that allows for the cultivation of these capacity enhancing practices simultaneous to a study of theory in peacebuilding. Through the map this exploration offers, we find the value of practices of embodiment lies in the ways they offer opportunities to deepen our awareness – of self, of other, of society – and harness such nuanced awareness to support a movement toward healing and peace.

[1] Alan Fogel defines embodied self-awareness as “perceiving our movements in relation to other people and our surroundings, registering the textures and depths of the senses, and exploring the intricacies of our emotions in relation to others and the world” (2009, 10).

[2] This triadic framework elicits the three interrelated branches of peace Toran Hansen puts forth in the article “Holistic Peace.” These branches are: “‘peace within’ (inner peace), ‘peace between’ (relational peace), and ‘peace among’ (structural/environmental peace)” (2016, 212).

[3] This interpretation of practices of embodiment aligns with Christine Caldwell’s notion of bodyfulness, which she differentiates from embodiment: “I would define embodiment as awareness of and attentive participation with the body’s states and actions. Bodyfulness begins when the embodied self is held in a conscious, contemplative environment, coupled with a non-judgmental engagement with bodily processes, an acceptance and appreciation of one’s bodily nature, and an ethical and aesthetic orientation towards taking right actions so that a lessening of suffering and an increase in human potential may emerge” (2014, 81).

References

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Eddy, M. (2016). Dancing Solutions to Conflict: Field-Tested Somatic Dance for Peace. Journal of Dance Education, 16(3), 99-111.

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Lederach, J. P. (2005). The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace. New York, New York: Oxford University Press.

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