"The survival of democracy," A. J. Muste said, "depends on the renunciation of violence and the development of nonviolent means to combat evil and advance the good." Throughout his 82-year lifespan, Muste continually adjusted his nonviolent position in response to each new phase of a dark era. In this courageous stance he again and again showed himself to be a pioneer for what the New York Times recently called the emerging superpower: People the world over who want peace so much that they demand it from their governments. We honor Muste's memory by asking ourselves how these principles apply to us here and now. We are free, like him, to follow our deepest impulses towards "holy disobedience" as a means of spiritual self-preservation.
-- Patricia Carlson

“The way of peace is really a seamless garment that must cover the whole of life and must be applied in all its relationships."

A. J. Muste was arguably the outstanding American exponent of Christian nonviolence in the twentieth century. In season and out, in a career that spanned resistance to both World War I and Vietnam, he stood upon his conscience and his convictions. An indefatigable activist into his eighties, he was esteemed by a generation otherwise distrustful of anyone over thirty. At the same time, his civility and integrity won respect even from members of the establishment he opposed.

Abraham Johannes Muste was born in Holland on January 8, 1885, immigrating to America with his family at the ago of six. Though trained as a minister in the Dutch Reformed church, he migrated through a number of denominations during the course of his long career. He was expelled from his first congregation when he proclaimed himself a pacifist in opposition to World War I. For years afterward he eschewed the institutional church altogether, working instead in the radical labor movement. For over a decade he was a dedicated Marxist-Leninist. By 1936, however, he had become disillusioned with sectarian politics, convinced that the Sermon on the Mount contained the most truly radical program for social transformation. With this insight he returned both to active church ministry and to the organized pacifist movement. As he wrote, "Pacifism -- life -- is built upon a central truth and the experience of that truth....That truth is: God is love, love is of God. Love is the central thing in the universe."

In 1940 he became executive secretary of the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR), the leading religious pacifist organization. He occupied this position for thirteen years. These were not especially receptive years for the FOR's message. Nevertheless, the advent of the era of total war confirmed Muste's belief that the principles of the gospel were not simply a utopian idea but a practical imperative: "Mankind has to find a way into a radically new world. Mankind has to become 'a new humanity' or perish."

Muste became a particularly eloquent opponent of the Cold War and a critic of those theologians who, in the name of "realism," justified the resort to nuclear threats and the encroaching militarization of American culture. In an essay counseling young men to resist conscription, he wrote,

Nonconformity, Holy Disobedience, becomes a virtue, indeed a necessary and indispensable measure of spiritual self-preservation, in a day when the impulse to conform, to acquiesce, to go along is used as an instrument to subject men to totalitarian rule and involve them in permanent war. To create the impression of at least outward unanimity, the impression that there is no "real" opposition is something for which all dictators and military leaders strive. The more it seems that there is no opposition, the less worthwhile it seems to an ever larger number of people to cherish even the thought of opposition.

In the era of bomb shelters and civil defense drills, it seemed to Muste that the world was entering a new Dark Age in which the responsibility of the Christian was to nourish small oases of sanity and conscience amid the encircling gloom. When asked by a reporter what good it did for him to maintain a vigil outside a nuclear weapons base, Muste replied, "I don't do this to change the world. I do it to keep the world from changing me."
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"Joy and growth come from following our deepest impulses, however foolish they may seem to some, or dangerous, and even though the apparent outcome may be defeat."
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When he retired from his position at the FOR at the age of sixty-eight, Muste might well have rested from his considerable labors. Instead, the following years were marked by his most courageous activism. He was repeatedly arrested for protests at nuclear weapons sites. In the 1960s he was a key architect of the broad antiwar coalition that emerged in response to the Vietnam War. In 1966, then eighty-one, he was arrested in Saigon after attempting to demonstrate in front of the U.S. embassy. He died the following year on February 11, 1967, weeks after returning from a trip to North Vietnam to witness firsthand the effects of American bombing.

In the annals of Christian radicalism there are few to rival Muste for sheer endurance. Long past the age when most activists grow weary with frustration, Muste displayed a vitality that was not fed by the need for tangible results. As he wrote, "Joy and growth come from following our deepest impulses, however foolish they may seem to some, or dangerous, and even though the apparent outcome may be defeat." His belief in the identity of means and ends encouraged his persistent witness in the face of all discouragement and implacable odds. As he noted in his most oft-quoted line, "There is no way to peace, peace itself being the way."

Additional Resources
See: Danny Collum et al., "A.J. Muste: Pilgrim for Peace through a Century of Wars," Sojourners (December 1984); Nat Hentoff, ed., The Essays of A.J. Muste (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1967).