Mark Vernon considers how and why the world’s major religions use the imagery of war in their teachings

Various kinds of bombardment are a feature of war. The worst kind of all is, of course, being directly in the line of fire, unprepared, innocent. “What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?” observed Mahatma Gandhi.

But there is another kind of bombardment to the kinetic: the mental type. Even with the safety of entire continents between yourself and the Middle East, the effects of this barrage can be powerfully felt, too. The drones of the news cycle; the shockwaves of uncertainty; the disorientating fog of war spread on the airwaves. The flurry may not kill you, but it can knock you about.

What is the best way to deal with this verbal and grimly imagistic blitzkrieg? How to survive the psychological onslaught? A clue comes from religious and wisdom traditions. For, perhaps surprisingly, they much reference war, too.

Take Mahatma Gandhi again. He is famous for his advocacy of ahimsa, or avoidance of violence. And yet, he was a lover of the war saga that is called the Bhagavad Gita. The holy text, which he called his “mother”, opens on the eve of a terrible battle between the warrior Arjuna and his brothers who have become deadly enemies. The prospect of civil war, the worst, causes Arjuna to break down and Krishna appears. The god and the man converse. Arjuna learns many things. But that doesn’t stop the battle. The next morning, slaughter ensues.

Gandhi read the text not literally but allegorically, discovering in its chapters an awareness of the inner conflict between good and ill that is engaged on the battlefield of the human heart. He also found an antidote to the turbulence and strife, which is often called “disinterested action”: doing what life and the present moment asks of you and leaving the wider outcome to higher powers. In other words: action should not be about seeking specific results, which always generates tension, but, rather, about offering what you do to the divine, which might thereby gradually align you to deeper purposes.

That is sensible, even within a secular frame. The future is radically unpredictable, a truth self-evidently manifest in times of war and no less so in peacetime.

Jesus often turned to metaphors of war, as well, with comparable implications. There is the saying attributed to him: “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword”. It can be interpreted as meaning that the presence of truth tends to bring division, fallings out, conflict. But that is no reason to abandon the realisation. Jesus also told his disciples: “I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves” – suggesting that the way to respond to the conflict that truth brings is not to escalate via retaliation, but simply to stay true.

He further advised assessing your inner strength and acting wisely, much like someone embarking on a literal war. Consider his parable of the king. Suppose a king is about to go to war, he says in the Gospel of Luke. The wise ruler will first consider whether he has appropriate military strength and, if not, will pursue other strategies such as suing for peace.

Islam has similar traditions and is also notable as perhaps unique among world religions in being founded by a figure who was a successful military commander as well as spiritual leader: the prophet, Mohammed. Hence, in the Muslim tradition, an explicit distinction is made between greater and the lesser jihad. The greater and more necessary struggle is the internal one of aligning your life to the way of Allah; the lesser and sometimes necessary one is armed warfare – often interpreted as defensive strikes (though, as we have seen since the outbreak in Iran, distinguishing between defensive and offensive is not always straightforward).

Finally, consider how the Buddhist tradition deploys imagery of war, too, for the theme of the inner or spiritual battle, which might have outer and physical consequences, is common in the Buddha’s teachings. He seems frequently to use combative metaphors to instruct his followers.

The battle he advocates is again inner, against what are called defilements – vices would be another word: greed, hatred, delusion. Alternatively, the cravings of the mind are often described as “Mara’s army”: the array of demonic forces and active personal flaws that will show up to anyone embarking on a path of self-reflection. Hence, a follower of the Awakened One is referred to as a “noble warrior”, as distinct from an ignoble, reckless deployer of violence.

Hindu, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist traditions of spiritual strife. But what is the endgame of this inner warfare? What objectives does it have?

The post-conflict state is where it really gets interesting, for the objective of the noble warrior is, in fact, neither victory nor defeat. Victory creates further delusions, much as defeat causes suffering. Rather, according to the wisdom traditions, the purpose of spiritual warfare is to reach an entirely different domain of existence.

Take the Buddha. His early followers didn’t seem to major in condemning physical warfare, which was common at the time but, rather, advocated standing as external observers of the conflicts. The aim was, thereby, to open a third possibility in human affairs: a prophetic future beyond war, inner and outer.

This vision is in the Christian tradition, too, and is well expressed by William Blake. Blake was clear that “corporeal war”, or physical fighting, was “energy enslaved”: a spiritual possibility gone wrong. But along with his fellow spiritual teachers, Blake thought there was a kind of just war: the struggle engaged in the soul, both of individual and nation. As some of his best known words put it: “I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, ’til we have built Jerusalem, in England’s green and pleasant land.”

The mystical warfare of the great religions, therefore, offers this advice for a time dominated by conflict. Amid the bombardment, concerns and despair of the coming weeks, possibly months or more, preserve a space in your heart to engage the mental fight. This battle for clarity, non-violence and higher vision is the one that is yours. For those not on the front line, wrestling here may be the greatest service you can do.

Mark Vernon presents a new Thought for the Week on “A Drink with the Idler”.

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