At the Night of Ahimsa event held at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, the Ahimsa Peace Institute explored nonviolence across dimensions—personal, spiritual, ecological, and systemic. Each of these calls for ahimsa to be practiced in daily life: how we relate to loved ones, how we treat the Earth, and how we challenge the structural violence embedded in modern society.
By George Cassidy Payne, in conversation with Lynnea Bylund, Ahimsa Peace Institute
In the sacred language of Sanskrit, ahimsa does not simply mean nonviolence.
It means the absence of even the desire to harm, an ethic rooted in reverence, self-awareness, and compassion for all life. It is not a strategy, nor a belief system. It is a way of being.
The Indian independence leader Mahatma Gandhi saw ahimsa as the “highest duty,” a force more powerful than any weapon. But he also reminded us: “Even if we cannot practice it in full, we must try to understand its spirit and refrain, as far as is humanly possible, from violence.”
What does ahimsa mean in our time, an age marked by digital outrage, rising authoritarianism, ecological destruction, and war?
To explore this, I turned to Lynnea Bylund, President of the Ahimsa Peace Institute and longtime colleague of the late Arun Gandhi, grandson of the Mahatma. Our conversation reflects the spirit of ahimsa itself—measured, thoughtful, and fiercely committed to compassionate truth.
Ahimsa Begins with Awareness
“Ahimsa begins with awareness,” Lynnea wrote. “It is the practice of living from the heart, attuned to the unity that underlies all life. Gandhi taught that nonviolence is not simply the absence of harm, it is the presence of love in thought, word, and deed.”
This lens invites us to examine not just our actions, but also our thoughts and inaction. In a world shaped by mass consumption, surveillance, and economic disparity, even our silence or convenience can contribute to harm.
“I remind myself every day,” Lynnea said, “complicity can wear a very quiet face.”
Quoting Adi Da, she added that true silence “outshines the mind,” offering a vision of ahimsa as an inner stillness that transcends judgment or division. This vision echoes the wisdom of Arun Gandhi, who often reminded people that yes, the world is growing more violent, but instead of despair, this reality must deepen our resolve to practice ahimsa as a form of moral clarity and loving attention.
Can ahimsa coexist with self-defense or intervention?
“Nonviolence is always the preferred path,” Lynnea affirmed. “But life presents us with moments that call for protection. The key lies in intention and proportion. True self-defense arises from compassion, not retaliation.”
She offered the example of Marshall Rosenberg, founder of Nonviolent Communication, who once responded to a man’s searing hatred—not with argument—but with empathy. By the end of the day, they shared a meal as friends.
“This is ahimsa in action,” Lynnea said. “Presence guided by principle and courage.”
Gandhi himself was deeply influenced by the Quakers, whose form of pacifism emphasized inward conviction and moral witness. In every era, as organizations like Campaign Nonviolence show, nonviolence must be embodied in both personal and political contexts.
What Active Nonviolence Looks Like Today
Gandhi described ahimsa as an active force, not passive resistance. So what does active nonviolence mean in an age of digital division and performative rage?
“Today, it means choosing connection where division tempts us most,” Lynnea explained. “Empathy over dismissal. Understanding over reaction.”
At the Night of Ahimsa event held at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, the Ahimsa Peace Institute explored nonviolence across dimensions—personal, spiritual, ecological, and systemic. Each of these calls for ahimsa to be practiced in daily life: how we relate to loved ones, how we treat the Earth, and how we challenge the structural violence embedded in modern society.
Even presence, simple, quiet presence, can be resistance. “The Quaker practice of silent witness reminds us that in an age of outrage, calm attention can become a form of moral protest.”
Some critics argue that nonviolence is a luxury of the privileged. But Lynnea—and Arun before her—reject that claim.
“Violence is easy,” Arun Gandhi used to say. “Nonviolence takes courage.”
He learned this firsthand. As a child in South Africa, he was beaten for being both too dark and too light. When he asked his grandfather if he should fight back, Gandhi replied, “Use your anger differently. Channel it into strength, not retaliation.”
That was not privilege. It was dignity. It was survival rooted in ahimsa.
Even in war-torn regions, Lynnea added, we see acts of nonviolence every day. “In Gaza, in Ukraine, in Congo—ahimsa may begin quietly. With a shared loaf of bread. A refusal to teach hatred. A mother choosing to protect, not poison, her child’s heart.”
“Ahimsa embraces suffering and transforms it into compassion.”
Perhaps the most difficult question of all: Can we practice ahimsa in a capitalist world where exploitation is hidden in everything from clothing to software?
Lynnea answered without hesitation: “This may be the most challenging—and the most urgent—expression of ahimsa today.”
We live in systems that mask violence through convenience, abstraction, and distance. “Our clothes, our food, our technology carry unseen costs. Ahimsa calls us to live with awareness, to align our values with our actions. Are our purchases rooted in dignity? Do they uplift? Or do they harm?”
The Ahimsa Peace Institute has tried to walk this talk. When it signed the International Treaty for World Peace alongside Hereditary Chief Phil Lane Jr., it was a statement of unity: that peace must be lived—economically, relationally, and spiritually.
“Ancient traditions remind us: we are one web. When one strand is harmed, all are affected.”
Ahimsa Is Who We Become
In Sanskrit, himsa means the desire to harm. The prefix a- reverses it. Thus, ahimsa is not merely about nonviolence; it is about the absence of the will to injure, even in thought.
“It is more than what we do,” Lynnea concluded. “It is who we become.” Ahimsa is not a retreat from conflict. It is a way through it—a path that asks us to engage with fierce compassion, clarity of mind, and an open heart.
In our divided world, it may be the most radical, and healing, force we have left.
Photo: Pixabay
Editor: Dana Gornall
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George’s essays have appeared in publications such as The Good Men Project, The Buffalo News, The Rochester Democrat & Chronicle, and many more. A poet at heart, his work often blends memoir, philosophy, and theological reflection, rooted in the belief that language can be both a balm and a spark.
Whether reflecting on the writings of Marcus Aurelius, the parables of Jesus, or the mindfulness of a Jain monk sweeping the ground before them, George writes to make space for wonder, doubt, and dialogue.
He joins The Tattooed Buddha as a regular columnist to explore themes of death, inner peace, activism, grief, and contemplative life in a world on fire—and to ask, again and again: How can we live as if everything we do matters?
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