«Advocating for a tax for peace – a tribute to my parents peace work »

It’s a very special and precious moment for me to present my parents’ peace work dedication in this special Human Facts meet to a wider audience, posthum. In this special Human Facts meets I will share the legacy that their peace work left with me.

Growing up, there was a large poster in our restroom, thoughtfully placed by my parents in a place no one could avoid reading it (including our guests). It was a fable about a robin and a dove:

"How much does a snowflake weigh?" the robin asked. "No more than nothing," the dove replied. But the robin explained, "I recently counted the snowflakes landing on a branch, and when the 3,741,953rd one fell, the branch broke. “Maybe we’re only one snowflake away from peace in the world?" the dove concluded.

This story symbolizes the belief that every voice counts—a belief that inspired my mother and stepfather to venturing into what was called "civil disobedience." As pharmacy owners and members of the pacifist Quaker community, they decided in the 1980s to join the Network for Peace Tax in Germany (Netzwerk Friedenssteuer / Conscience: Taxes for Peace not War)

Taxes for peace not war. Their attitude went beyond simply refusing to pay the tax. In fact, they set the money aside in a separate account. Alongside the Peace Tax Network, and together with lawyers, they argued for a civil right to refuse to pay taxes for military funding in favour of contributions to non-military investments or a peace fund. Just as Germany allowed young men to refuse military service on the basis of the fundamental right of freedom of conscience, my parents argued that citizens should have the right to refuse to pay taxes for military purposes.

After 15 years of going through all the legal stages, they finally received a definitive 'no' from the German Constitutional Court, nevertheless accompanied by respectful comments from the judges. In 1993, the Network for Peace Tax received the Aachen Peace Prize for its committed engagement. As a late teenager, however, I must admit that I felt a sense of relief when that journey came to an end. It set us apart as a family and gave us an unwanted outsider status that wasn't always easy to deal with in a teenage surrounding.

Now, 30 years later, I see things differently. It’s with deep gratitude that I reconize my parents' courage and dedication in raising their voices for peace - a journey that was time-consuming, costly and ultimately not blessed with success during their earthly lifetimes. But witnessing them commit their lives to this peace tax vision left me with three insights and teachings that I believe are essential to any kind of large-scale transformational effort, and that I find lacking in some of our activist efforts today:

• Advocate “for”, not fight “against”.  As activist Lynne Twist highlights in her latest book “Living a committed life”, activism should focus on having a vision, suggesting solutions, not just to fight “against” something. Buckminster Fuller summed this up well: "You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete." That's the approach we need today for any sustainable change for the better. Any activities only build on an “against” creates dualities of wrong and right instead of overcoming them.

• The choice of means matter. The means chosen to create something new should mirror the intention behind it. In best way, already made the change of the desired new “experienceable”. My brother wisely observed why many people are uncomfortable with some of the dogmatic aggressiveness of activists: It's because their 'concern' or ‘care’ – e.g. for Mother Earth and living creatures (which I personally share) - can't be “experienced” in their sometimes-violent actions. Fighting for environmental protection on the back of our social peace, on people’s civil rights of freedom, seems shortsighted to me. It creates a new problem: that of social division. As a quote attributed to Albert Einstein says: "No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it", the means of activism - whatever the intention - should inspire a new level of unification, a new level of conscious inclusion, not divide us. This is probably even more true of peace activism. True peace can't be achieved by violent means. As much as we need the urgency to change the systems in our world, we need to be able to drive them from a different level of consciousness. That's why I believe that the choice of means of activism will make all the difference.

• Quiet power can be more powerful. It's not about being the loudest in words or actions. In fact, most systemic change is a process about an invisible, unshakable force that unfolds quietly but consistently from within. And most of these changes take a lifetime to mature. When the Berlin Wall came down, it wasn't a revolutionary, violent force, but rather a persistent, evolutionary, silent movement, beginning with the carrying of candles to churches and through the streets, that made this peaceful, irreversible and bloodless change possible. Like the wind, change can be invisible, quiet and yet irreversible in its visible effects. Perhaps it is no coincidence that the anthem for the fall of the Berlin Wall titled "Wind of Change".

Finally, I’ve come to understand just how essential it is to speak up for peace. Without peace, all other progress—environmental protection, medical advancements, or eradicating hunger—becomes meaningless in a world of violent conflicts and war.

Maybe we’re just one snowflake away from peace? The idea of a peace tax—letting citizens allocate their taxes for peaceful purposes resp. non-military —still resonates with me. Living in Switzerland, I experience a well working participatory democracy where its legally foreseen that citizens have a say in how taxes are spent. This gives me hope that we will see more initiatives to promote democracy and civil rights in this way, aiming for systems of shared governance rather than centralised power - both in the real world and in the digital world.

Standing up for peace makes us vulnerable. It’s an expression of hope, despite all the cruelty around us, that human beings can coexist peacefully.

To my parents: Thank you both for your courage to speak up for peace. I am grateful to have had the privilege of witnessing your example of giving peace a voice growing up. It taught me that every voice matters and can make a difference. It continues to inspire me to find the courage to raise my voice, too. And I hope you’ll forgive me that it took some time to remember, recognise, acknowledge and publicly honour your beautiful peace work.