Unarmed & Unafraid
Really not about guns, but about anxiety, dig. Behold, Gerald Holtom’s original peace symbol inverted (as he wanted it to be) to signify unilateral disarmament, a radical way to live in a world that loves war.
It can be said that peace is the opposite of fear. A more popular understanding, however, is that peace is the opposite of war. When wars are ended, disarmament is possible; think, swords into plowshares. But wars in this world rarely just end, and fear of legitimate threats converts easily to anxiety, that ever-present, overactive, redundant radar system that reads everything as a threat. And, in this world, weapons are rarely melted down, but get locked away in the gun safe for easy access when trouble hits and we need to protect our own. We all know people who are prepped and ready, and we might have a shotgun of our own over the china cabinet, so to speak. But while we may need to live with the sword, we don’t have to live by the sword. I’m not really talking about about weapons. I’m talking about anxiety.
2024 was a surprising year for me. I had the opportunity to work through some anxiety of my own, having discovered that my lifelong projection of calm had fooled even me. I came to see that I spent most days (especially my days off, frustratingly) stressed and ill-at-ease: with nothing to fear, and no real threats to confront, my mind would nevertheless get cloudy with anxiety, and stuck in a kind of tunnel vision with nothing at the end of the tunnel. To work the problem, I have searched scripture, practiced body and breath-work, and filled quite a few journal pages as I tried to better understand my feelings and my family history. I found I also needed reminders, in order to resist my brain’s default behavior of grounding all incoming and outgoing traffic due to fog. Like people have done for ever, I use objects to remind me of important things: the ring on my finger; beads or knots on string; symbols around my neck, like the silver cross I often wear. Each of these things are sacramental, tangible reminders of meaningful, if invisible, truths; ideas easily forgotten when we’re distracted. For this season, I went in search of a sacramental object that could keep me oriented to the peace I was pursuing, and help me resist the passive pull of anxiety. I (somewhat obviously) looked into the familiar hippie-approved peace-symbol that’s adorned t-shirts and bumper stickers for more than half a century. I did not particularly want to hang any old symbol around my neck without understanding more about its origin and significance, so a little research was needed to tease out meanings of significance for me.
The symbol’s designer, Gerald Holtom, was hired to create artwork for an anti-nuke rally in England in the 50s, and the brilliant mark he produced was soon appropriated by peace movements around the world. But in this new context, Holtom was dissatisfied with the original composition, which incorporated two downward oriented ‘arms’ split by a vertical line, the semaphore symbols for ‘N’ and ‘D’, initials standing for ‘Nuclear Disarmament’ (the mark’s original meaning and purpose). Thinking the original with its downcast arms too evocative of despair (and possibly naïve, because who believes the entire planet will give up their nukes?), he came to prefer an inverted version, an upsweeping semaphore ‘U’ and vertical ‘D’ that would combine into a more hopeful image and a more compelling meaning: Unilateral Disarmament. The new image challenges the individual, when confronting agression in a world that loves war, to not live life armed for battle. This new image, and the disarmament it promotes, can seem to suggest pretty weak position, but somebody has to be the first to lay down their weapons. For me, his inverted peace sign, and its message, is a challenge to disarm my anxious radar-and-defence system and live without fear. It is a symbol that puts the power of peace in my own hands.
It’s not for nothing that Holtom equated this new upside-down peace-sign with the biblical Tree of Life whose ‘leaves are for the healing of the nations’ and with the cross of Christ, who himself would choose to ride to his death at the hands of those who preferred power to peace and made that trip on a scrappy donkey instead of a war horse. He faced accusers, hands open, holding no weapons to wage battle, only bearing sharp words and the will to follow his path. This unexpected, unconventional power move, considered absurd by those closest to him (who in a couple cases had their own blades hidden under their coats) would earn him the title, ‘Prince of Peace’.
While I have room in my philosophy for a just war, I’m here to argue the other side of things: if we choose to engage unrighteous power without weapons, we assert the need for a different kind of conversation, one that takes place under the banner of peace. If we can do this, we make a clear statement about the world we prefer to live in. And when we choose not to live in anxious fear, though the world be not entirely safe, we might just find real peace, and the clarity to face troubles with a sharper mind, and a gentler spirit.
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The author’s custom neckwear, because you can’t buy a necklace with an ‘upside-down’ peace sign it turns out
Bonus: boss jeweler Zoe Maddalena offered to weld the author’s crude wire-hanger neckpiece together.