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 the fable of a coal tit and a wild dove*:
"How
much does a snowflake weigh?" the coal tit asked. "No more than
nothing," the wild dove replied. But the coal tit explained, "I recently
counted the snowflakes landing on a branch, and when the 3,420,488 one fell,
the branch broke. “Maybe we’re only one snowflake away from peace in the
world?" the wild 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 navigating through all the legal stages, they finally received a final 'no' from the German Constitutional Court, although accompanied by respectful comments from the judges. Nevertheless, in 1993 they were delegated to accept the Aachen Peace Prize on behalf of the Peace Tax Network Initiative. 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:
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.
*) The original text of the fable on the poster:
“What does a snowflake weigh?“ the coal tit asked the wood pigeon. ”No more than nothing,“ was the reply. ”Then I have a wondrous story to tell you,“ said the coal tit. ”I was sitting on a spruce branch when it began to snow, not like a stormy squall, no, silently and without heaviness. Since I had nothing better to do, I began to count the snowflakes that fell on the branch; there were exactly 3,420,487. And when the 3,420,488th snowflake fell, the branch broke off. The dove, an expert on the matter since Noah's time, said to herself after a moment's thought: Perhaps just one single vote is missing for the peace of the world? and flew away.