Maxwell Institute Podcast #150: The Proclaim Peace Conference

Joseph Stuart: Welcome to the Maxwell Institute Podcast. I'm Joseph Stuart. In June 2022, the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship at Brigham Young University and the David O. McKay Center for Intercultural Understanding at BYU-Hawaii hosted a conference based on Patrick Mason's and David Pulsifer's new book, Proclaim Peace: the restorations answer to an age of conflict. Participants, scholars and non-scholars alike, reflected together on the interpersonal, ethical and social dimensions of christian discipleship and the search for peace in non-christian traditions. We are giving you one of the sessions here on audio, but you can find all of the sessions on video on the Maxwell Institute's YouTube channel, which we will also link to in the show notes. You can receive the newsletter by signing up for it at mi.byu.edu/monthly-mi-news. The first speaker you'll hear from is Dr. Isaiah Walker, who is currently Academic Vice President and professor and Department Chair in the History Department at BYU-Hawaii, where he teaches World, Hawaiian, and Pacific Islands History.

Dr. Isaiah Walker: Aloha. I know you've already heard from me yesterday, so I'll keep it short and a little less formal. But I do want to, again, welcome you to campus–to BYU-Hawaii. And again, as I mentioned yesterday, I want to reiterate that our campus has been a place where we've always had peace at the forefront of our mission. And so the fact that we have this conference here really is helpful. It really augments our purpose and our mission here at BYU-Hawaii. Last time, yesterday, talked a bit about the establishment of the school and this mission that David O. McKay had, but actually Laie as a place I've heard quite a bit actually people mentioning that they feel this real kind of cool vibe here, there's a real cool spirit that takes place here. This actually predates in fact, not only David O. McKay, but even predates when the church came here in 1865, when Laie was purchased. Traditionally, in ancient times, Laie was known as a Pu'uhonua. Pu'uhonua is basically a city of refuge. And I want to read to you real quick this is an article from a former professor of ours Uncle Bill Wallace, who wrote this whole history of Laie and talked about its significance as a city of refuge in ancient times. He says, “Pu'uhonua, or cities of refuge have been described as enclosures, which are specially constructed and consecrated as holy ground or sanctuary for refugees, refugees of all kinds, men, women, children in war time. Thieves offenders against “kapu” or taboos, the rules of old Hawaii, they were allowed to enter the sacred enclosure and once in they were safe. While in the Pu'uhonua, it was unlawful for the fugitive’s pursuers to harm or injure him or her. During time of war, spears with white flags attached were set up at each end of the city of refuge and warriors pursuing fugitives were not allowed to enter.” So Laie has this really cool identity that traces back to ancient times, that even predates the church's presence here. But what's really cool is that, that it has that historical continuity. That even today, our mission, Laie is often described as a bubble. And BYU-Hawaii is sort of this bubble. And I find that fascinating because it is something that has existed in Laie's history for many, many years. In Hawaiian, we have oral histories that we call Mo'olelo. Most societies before they became written, where they had written their stories down. They were oral societies. And in Hawaii, as in many other places, these histories or stories were passed down through song or chant, or oli. If you were here yesterday, you heard an oli that was performed, called Hiki Mai. So these long stories would be preserved through these chants. Fortunately, Hawaii became one of the most literate societies in the mid-1800s. That came with pros and cons. The pro was that most people in Hawaii knew how to read and write within a single generation there is this transition. The fear, however, was that when we switched from an oral society to a written society, there was no more need for remembering these old stories. But fortunately, there are people in Hawaii who preserved these chants by writing them down. Laie is a storied place. There’s many such stories. And in these stories, there's a lot of different themes that take place, but one that stands out to me is that oppressive people and oppressive entities were often vilified in stories about Laie. Take for example, one of Laie early stories of Laie Kawii. Laie Kawii had a father named Kahoka Pata, and Kahoka Pata was a handsome chief and he was a powerful chief, but he was also kind of bigotted in the sense that he wanted his first child to be a boy and him and his wife, Melikohana, she didn't take him too seriously when he had said this, but he said, I only want to have a boy as my first son, and then we can have as many daughters as you want. Well, she was only having daughters. And after giving birth to those daughters Kahoka Pata had each of the daughters killed. By the fourth pregnancy, Malikohana was so frustrated and bewildered by this that she went to Waka who was a grandma and also like a kahuna or priest, and they devised a plan to save the next child. And what they did was they sent Kahoka Pata on a wild goose chase. She gave birth to twins this time both of them women, Laie Kawai and Laie Lohe Lohe. Now they hid them out. And they hid them in this underwater cave called Waia Puka. And the rest of the story is is this very lengthy, elaborate story about how Laie Kawai and Laie Lohe Lohe have become some of the most important people in Hawaii. And they're from this village here in Laie. The father in the story is definitely the villain. And it's a reminder to those who are from this area that villains are not heroes. We see another story similar in Laie. If you go up to a point you're here and you have these mornings off, you're walking around, go out to Laie Point and walk to the end of it, you'll see a plaque that tells a story of Laniloa and Kana. Laniloa was a giant lizard. Basically dragon and a lot of people don't realize this but in Hawaiian history, we have these stories of these massive dragons. One of these dragons lived on Laie Point, named Laniloa, and Laniloa was originally a really kind dragon until something went wrong. and he started eating people. And it caused conflict and it caused tension and it wasn't a healthy experience. They brought in a giant from the big island named Kana, who came and destroyed this dragon and signified in Laie Bay, one thing unique about Laie Bay compared to a lot of our other coastlines is that we have these little islands out in the bay, five of them. It's a visual representation of the body of Laniloa, and a reminder to not be oppressive and to be kind. The last story I want to focus on is December 7, 1941. The day that lives in infamy, right? So if people are aware, but when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, they actually didn't just go straight to Pearl Harbor. They're a couple 100 miles out to sea, where the aircraft carrier docked outside of Turtle Bay pretty far out there. And then there are two waves actually one of them went this way towards what we call a wall he went which is in the middle of the island went straight to Pearl Harbor, the other wave of planes, they're flying really low, and we're kind of here you could see them fly right by us. They went along the shoreline this way, and hit Kaneohe because there's a Marine Corps Base over there, they bombed that base too. Now there's a legend and folklore, I suppose, of a story that happened where there was a Japanese fighter that was flying the plane and he saw the tempo in Laie. He thought this is a target of significance. He turned his plane around and aimed for it, and went to shoot it down. When he pressed his to launch his missiles, they didn't deploy, they went back out, turned around, tried again, tried to shoot down the temple. Also, same thing. He thought, man, my guns are jammed. As he went back to the aircraft carrier. He tried and tested him again. And apparently, both the missiles went off and landed in the ocean. Now, whether or not this story is true, doesn't really matter. But what does matter is that this is the way that people saw this place of Laie, it was a place that was sheltered and protected from oppressive and violent perpetrators. So as you're here, and I hope you've enjoyed and soaked up this feeling that Laie feels like of sanctuary just know that historically, it always has been. Thank you also for coming and attending and being here today. Mahalo.

Joseph Stuart: You will now hear from Professor David Pulsifer. Professor in the History, Geography and Political Science Department at BYU Idaho, and co-author of Proclaim Peace.

David Pulsipher: Thank you for all you who've come back for another day. Yesterday, this conference focused on the resources that Latter-day Saints scripture and theology bringing to problems of conflict and peace. Today we turn to the next challenge: nurturing a culture of peace. What exactly is a culture of peace? There are many many characteristics that might define it, but in Proclaim Peace, Patrick and I focus on two key characteristics: first, a culture of peace constrains human violence and second, it nurtures and expands human capacity to love. These characteristics flow naturally from a theology of peace, that simply having a “good theology” or “right thinking” does not necessarily ensure that a culture of peace will actually develop. The Book of Mormon, for example, describes the Nephite culture at the time of King Mosiah that was generally converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, but was also fundamentally oriented towards violence. How do we know? Because when the sons of Mosiah proposed to organize an effort to live among, love, and even serve their traditional enemies, the Lamanites, their fellow Nephites, they found the idea incomprehensible. For them, there was a more obvious and effective solution to the long standing Lamanite threat. Let us take up arms against them, that we may destroy them, and their iniquity out of the land, lest they overrun us and destroy us. One of the most tragic things about this Nephite impulse to wipe out Lamanite society is that it is entirely unremarkable for most modern readers, especially those seeped in American culture, from fiction to cinema to real life violence, self defense, even preemptive violence is the default answer to all existential threats, real or imagined. And this holds true for many, if not most Latter-day Saints, especially those raised in the United States. Violent self-defense is not only the obvious response, it is for most, the necessary response. But restoration scripture clearly encourages and contains multiple examples of divine alternatives to violence, even self-defense, the basis for a culture that is quite different from those that currently predominate. The 98th section of the Doctrine and Covenants, does outline principles for shelter that justified self defense and the Book of Mormon clearly contains myriad examples of such principles in action. But the 98th section also lays out and the more sanctifying option of forbearance, forgiveness, and love, when we are under attack at the key moment of decision when violence would be fully justified, God offers a tantalizing alternative. And then, if that will spare thine enemy or attacker, that will shall be rewarded for thy righteousness, and also thy children, and thy children's children onto the third and fourth generation. This isn't a passive endurance of abuse, but rather an active resistance through love. A divinely inspired and assertive love eloquently articulated in both the New Testament and the Book of Mormon when the Savior invites His disciples to love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you. What's more, in addition to the stirring invitation, the Book of Mormon contains multiple examples from the sons of Mosiah and the people of Alma, to the anti-Nephi-Lehi’s and the brothers Nephi and Lehi have such sanctifying and remarkably effective love. Raised as we are in a modern culture saturated with violence, it can be hard to see such sanctifying alternatives until we look for them. But once we can recognize the patterns, examples of sanctifying love seem to be everywhere. Throughout the scriptural record, history, and even in our modern world. Perhaps they don't exist with as much ubiquity as examples of violent self-defense, but like the members of the Church of the Lamb of God in Nephi's vision, examples of sanctifying love may be few in number, nevertheless, they are upon all the face of the earth. And behind all the examples is the voice of God, urging us to adopt this new way of seeing this new culture of peace or what both Paul and Moroni refer to as a more excellent way. Patrick and I believe that recognizing and prioritizing this more excellent way is a key element for developing a culture of peace. When a culture of peace develops, it shifts the scales of response, deemphasizing justified violence as the default and elevating assertive love and its place. Proclaim Peace thus represents an effort to try to move the needle in that direction. It begins by demonstrating the strength and effectiveness of assertive love. One reason that so many people default to justified violence is a widespread cultural perception that loving one's enemies may be morally ideal, but that it is ultimately weak and ineffective. Violence, as we have been taught from our youth, is the strongest and most effective response to enemies and aggression. But both Latter-day Saint theology and, interestingly enough, modern scholarship, make persuasive arguments that this is not true. And that love is indeed the strongest force in the universe, especially when compared to violence. A culture of peace gives love its proper preeminence. In addition to elevating assertive love, Proclaim Peace tries to deemphasize justified violence by us arguing that according to Latter-day Saint theology violence can only be justified according to a very strict set of standards. As described in restoration scriptures, these standards are roughly analogous to those adopted by what is known as the just war tradition. But they are even more stringent than the standards that according to restoration standards, violence can only be justified when disinclination, forbearance, divine consent, accountability, restraint, steadfast connection, and increased love are met as standards. And if you want to know what all those mean you can go ahead and read book. I'm not going to go into them today. But with such stringent standards Latter-day Saint theology thus constrains violence, human violence in such a way as to make a justified use and extraordinarily rare exception to the preferred default response of assertive love, rather than the other way around. It thus nurtures a culture of peace rather than a culture of violence. But a culture of peace extends well beyond default responses to threats. It also rebalances the scales of societal institutions and relationships. In regards to the demands of the modern nation state, for example, a culture of peace deemphasizes national citizenship, with its expectation that it citizens kill other people of other nations in the name of their nation, and emphasizes instead citizenship in the Kingdom of God. With its expectations that its citizens will loyally befriend, but not give primary allegiance to the nations in which they reside. Ultimately, a culture of peace as nurtured within the kingdom of God strives to achieve just an equitable social arrangements allowing all of God's children to flourish individually and collectively, as described in restoration scripture. Such social justice has been achieved very rarely, with Enoch with the children of Lehi and a few other scattered examples, but the record indicates it has been achieved in this world. And it's a goal towards which every Latter-day Saint is called to strive. Patrick will talk more about it tomorrow, but every disciple of Christ is called to create a culture that will eventually find its highest expression in the beloved community we call Zion. In short, building cultures of peace, cultures that constrain human violence and expand human capacity to love, is the work of building Zion. A culture of peace may stem from good theology, but it is not an inevitable byproduct. It takes a significant amount of intentionality, but when it is achieved, it is stunningly beautiful. As it was with the ancient children of Lehi. “And there was no contentions and disputations among them.” Constraints on human violence. “And every man did deal justly one with another.” Expansions of human love. “And they had all things common among them, therefore, there were not rich and poor, bond and free, but they were all made free, and partakers of the heavenly gift because of the love of God, which did well in the hearts of the people.” The realization of such a Zionlike culture of peace, is Patrick’s and my deepest desire. And it is our hope that in some small way, Proclaim Peace contributes to that remarkable project. Thank you.

Joseph Stuart: You're about to hear from Patrick Q. Mason, who holds the Leonard J. Arrington Chair of Mormon History and Culture at Utah State University. He is one of the co-authors of Proclaim Peace.

Patrick Mason: Hi, everyone. Good to see you again today. So one of the best readers of The Book of Mormon in recent years is a guy named Chris Thomas. Now, Chris currently serves as president of an organization called the Book of Mormon Studies Association. But the interesting thing about Chris, well there are many things, but one of the interesting things is he is not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In fact, he's not even associated with the Community of Christ or any of the other restoration churches. Chris Thomas is a proud, unabashed, tongue speaking Pentecostal, and he loves the Book of Mormon. Now, Chris is one of those guys that David mentioned yesterday, who when he first read the story of the anti-Nephi-Lehi’s, he came away thinking “this is one of the most amazing and deeply christian stories I've ever read.” As he continued to think about it, he realized something that I think few of us have really considered. That the account of the anti-Nephi-Lehi’s sits exactly at the center of the Book of Mormon. Chris believes as a Pentecostal, that the centrality of the anti-Nephi-Lehi’s in the Book of Mormon isn't just an accident. It's not just a physical fact. He believes it's a narrative decision that should carry deep meaning for readers. So if a Pentecostal can read the Book of Mormon and see the anti-Nephi-Lehi’s and the Sermon on the Mount or the Sermon at the Temple as being at the very heart of the book's message, why have Latter-day Saints, by and large, not seeing the same thing? Like most people around the world, Latter-day Saints sincerely love and desire peace. So what prevents us from pursuing peace building more robustly as individuals, as communities and as a church? Now, there's probably lots of complex reasons for that. But I want to suggest that one of those reasons is that peace builders have simply not done enough to shape and influence the culture. We haven't done enough to create a culture of peace. Now, a lot of people in this room will be familiar with Johan Galtung's notion of cultural violence, that is, those aspects of culture that can be used to justify or legitimate direct or structural violence, that turn the light from red to green and allow violence to become accepted, normalized, and even celebrated. What would it mean? And what would it take to create a culture of peace, so power, so persuasive, so normal, that violence in all its forms would become seen as aberrant? Even inconceivable? Because right now, the shoes on the other foot. To many good, thoughtful people, peace and non-violence are nice ideals, but not really practical when push comes to shove. This is manifest in many of the critiques that have been leveled against the middle chapters of our book. From those, again, good, smart, sincere, faithful, people who think our endorsement of non-violence is too strong, not encompassing of the entire scriptural record, or simply unrealistic. So let me just list just a few of those critiques. The anti-Nephi-Lehi’s clearly weren't all that committed to non violence since they sent their sons to battle against the Lamanites under the leadership of Helaman. The story is really about sin and covenant, not about non-violence. Most of the major prophets of the Book of Mormon used violence. Were Nephi, King Benjamin, Alma, Mormon and Moroni all wrong? If non-violent, assertive, love is really what Jesus wants us all to do, why to most christians and Latter-day Saints seem not to know it. If peacebuilding is so central to Latter-day Saint theology, as we claim, why did it take a couple of historians writing a book in 2021 to discover this fact? There's an entire chessboard tradition that we basically ignore in the book. Why not engage more fully the thought of Augustine, Aquinas and Michael Walzer as much as we did Walter Wink and John Howard Yoder. Gandhi and King were only successful because they operated within regimes that were basically decent, democratic, and moral. What about Hitler? What about Putin? Are we really suggesting that non-violent, assertive love would have stopped the concentration camps, or the invasion of Ukraine? Are we supposed to just roll over? Let dictators do what they want? Don't we recognize that there is real evil in the world that doesn't respond to love? When we say that violence is not inherently righteous, are we also saying that your grandfather who fought in World War II against the Nazis was wrong to do so? And maybe most poignantly, yeah, but have you met my mother in law? Or my roommate? Or my boss? Or, you know, whoever? These are all good, serious, honest, questions. Peacebuilders have to take each of these questions very seriously. We can talk about some of them in the Q&A if you want to. Here's my point: peacebuilders can't just assume we have the moral high ground. We have to humbly acknowledge that we don't have all the answers, that are proposed solutions and strategies sometimes fail. We have to recognize that the main reason people keep using violence is because it often works. Sort of. If we want a culture of peace, we're going to have to build it, brick by brick. Think of every aspect of culture that celebrates, maintains, justifies and normalizes all the various forms of violence, and recognize the peace builders are going to have to build an equally or more compelling, non-violent version of the same. That's a whole lot of Hollywood movies, and video games, and Sunday School lessons. And here's the rub. We can't just turn to the scriptures for all the answers. Now that's gonna sound like a strange thing coming from someone who's just written a book about a scriptural theology of peace and non-violence. But the scriptures, including that most correct book, the Book of Mormon, don't give us a detailed blueprint for how to build a culture of peace in the 21st-century. I love, respect, adore, the Prophet Mormon. When we get to heaven when we meet, I'm going to spend a whole lot of time thanking him for all of his work in writing, editing, preserving the Book of Mormon, and then I'm gonna have some questions like: 20 war chapters? And half a chapter in 4th Nephi on Zion? Like, not even like a whole chapter. “Come on, man. He was almost 200 years.” Okay, so I've got questions. The Book of Mormon doesn't give us a detailed blueprint of what this looks like. So in this respect, scripture is a lot like the plan of Zion, that Joseph Smith sketched out in 1833. It's literally just a bunch of rectangles with a few doodles or around the edges. That's it. That's Zion. Right there, folks. And that's the point. Building Zion isn't like building a bookcase from IKEA. There's no step by step guide. It doesn't come with all the hardware. It's up to us, as eternal intelligences, who are co-laborers and co-creators with God, to figure out how to do it. The prophets and the scriptures through all the ages have taught us direct principle, but we're largely left to govern ourselves. We have a perfect example in Jesus. But even he doesn't give us all of the specific answers. He wants us to be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of our own free will. So if we want to build a culture of peace, that's the challenge. We have to create it. We have to build it. It's up to us. And that's why I'm glad that Christina, Ben, and David are going to tell us how to do that. Thank you.

Joseph Staurt: Up next is Professor Christina Akanoa, assistant professor of political science at BYU-Hawaii.

Christina Akanoa: It was mid-December 1999. When I returned home for Christmas break from a long year study here at BYU-Hawaii. I had one more semester to complete then graduation in May. It was my first time back to Samoa after leaving home for the first time to attend university and I was very excited to finally have the chance to visit my family. My mother was the only parent alive and she just passed away two years ago during COVID. My older brother B and his family also lived on our family land, but in a separate house. My older sister and her family lived in our family house with my mother, my younger sister, and my younger brother. So you see, we had a full house just like any other Polynesian family. My brother B worked for our church as a purchasing manager and one of his responsibilities was to pick up and drop off guests to the airport. It was only the first week of my arrival on a Thursday morning when we received the alarming phone call from my brother that he got into a car accident. It was fatal and that a woman in the village of Facito'otai had been killed when he was on his way back to the office after dropping off some guests, which were missionary couples to a Mali Fanua ward. They were on their way to Savai'i. He was driving behind the bus which stopped in Facito'otai to drop off some passengers. He overtook the bus that was dropping off passengers who were supposed to wait until the bus drove off and then cross the road from behind and not the front. When he took over the bus, a woman crossed the road speedily in front of the bus, without checking to see for incoming traffic. He hit the woman and she died instantly on the spot. In shock and fear he came to a halt jumped out of the van picked up the woman and took her straight to the hospital. His clothes were all covered with blood, but that was the least of his worries. His body was in a state of shock and he realized he had just killed a woman. All shaken up, the only thing that came to his mind was the life of this woman who he had just ended. If only he could take back time. Another thought that came to his mind was the overwhelming rush of fear for his life and his family. If he had stayed there a moment longer, the family of this woman would retaliate and maybe take revenge for the loss of their loved one. It was his luck that there were only a few people that were present during the accident. We also found out later that this woman was only visiting her relatives and Facito'otai and that she was from the village of Mulifanua which probably explained why no one screamed out her name or called out the village for help. My brother called from the police station that morning after he dropped off the woman's body at the hospital. He turned himself into the authorities. He knew that this was his only option as it was the right thing to do, and also to protect himself and his family from retaliation by the deceased woman's extended family. In Samoa, customary practice, when physical harm is done to a member of the family, an eye for an eye concept can be applied. Once my brother hung up the phone that morning, my mother called her uncles to Tuala' leoso and Tuala'poavi, the two prominent matai ali'is, or high chiefs of Safa to AlFalah and they call up the rest of the matias from the other side of our family in preparation for the infoga. The infoga is the public act of self humiliation accompanied by the gift of 'ie toga or fine mats, speeches of contrition and food, made as a form of apology by one group for the conduct of one of its members to another offended group. The term 'ie toga comes from the root before meaning to bow down as to those conquered in war and token of submission. On my father's side, my two uncles who were both my matai tu la fale or “talking chiefs” prepared themselves to represent that side of the family. The church also had their representatives on behalf of my brother who was working for the church at that time. They put together money foodstuffs, such as boxes of tin fish, corned beef, biscuits, Taro, bread and yam as well as many fine mats or 'ie toga. My family also helped by putting together 'ie toga, food stuff as well, in addition to what the church had provided. This was a serious offense to the village and to the woman's family, and our family needed all they can get help from to help with the ifoga. It was within those few hours in the morning that everything was prepared, including everyone who was participating in the ifoga due to the seriousness of the matter, and to avoid any retaliation that might have been in the process of execution. There were six matais, my mother, my aunt and three representatives from the church that traveled with the ifoga. The Church provided a couple of vehicles to take the food and were prepared for the occasion. My mother warned us to leave the house that morning to stay with relatives and friends until, you know, the ifoga was done. So we all had to leave the house that day. Ifoga is only practice when there is murder or adultery involved. But today, other serious offenses are also added on that list that requires the process of the ifoga. The most recent one, and very historically, ifoga was carried out by the Prime Minister of New Zealand Jacinda Arden in August of 2021, asking for forgiveness to the people of the communities of Samoa and the Pacifica on the Dawn Raids, a mandate by the government of New Zealand to search and raid the homes of non-white New Zealand, which targeted us fika people demanding their legal papers wo reside in New Zealand. This was historical in the sense that no other colonial power has ever utilized traditional and customary peacekeeping ritual to ask for forgiveness. The giving of gifts such as food and valuable mats were necessary to indicate real remorse and in the hope of alleviating some of the pain that the victim's family feels or had felt. Today, monetary settlement is more widely used and ifogas as it is a powerful gift. In the case of my brother, we had to come up with a lot of money, and the church also had to contributed a lot of money. Once they arrived at the village that morning, they sat on the malai last space in front of the village. Their heads bowed down their full bodies covered with 'ie toga. The only three people that were not covered were the matai ali'i, Uncle Tuala'povavai the matia Tulafale, and one of the representatives of the church. Everyone else that was part of the ifoga had to bow down their hand and were covered with a fine mat. It showed the seriousness of the offense and how deeply our family, on behalf of my brother, were filled with remorse and guilt. The decision on who should be covered by the 'ie toga depends largely on the matia or the main matai of the family. It can be all the matais in the family or only the matai ali'i of the family depending on the offense. The offender may or may not be present during the ifoga. However, in many cases, he or she is advised to never be present in the fear that it might ignite feelings of anger and revenge from the aggrieved family. In the case of my brother, he was held at the police station on the advice of the chief police and also the matais in my family. In the traditional possession of the ifoga, the chiefs representing the offenders seat themselves in front of the victim's house with their heads covered with 'ie toga. The significance and symbolism of the 'ie toga over their head show shame and repentance since the head is the most sacred part of the body. So this picture over here is actually a recent ifoga that was just in 2021 incident that happened between two villages. So today it's still being practiced. The timing of the ifoga is crucial. It is believed that the early hours of dawn is the safest time to carry out the ifoga, since the aggrieved party is still sleeping and less likely to commit violent acts of retaliation. Therefore, families wake up as early as 4am to travel to the victims village, set themselves up, cover their heads with the 'ie toga until the aggrieved family says they're forgiven. A ifoga can last up to an hour to a full day until it is accepted. Some ifogas last up to more than one day, but that is rarely the case today because of the influence and adoption of christian values by Samoa. Central to the ifoga is the christian element of forgiveness. In the pre contact era, it was justified for the victim's family to execute the offender's family if the ifoga was not accepted. That all changed when christianity was introduced in Samoa. christian teachings abolished death as a punishment for serious offenses. Samoans are God fearing people and whatever the churches preach, they obey. Or whatever their elders say they obey. Samoa's motto says “fa'avae Samoa le Atua”, meaning or translated, “Samoa is founded on God.” The ifoga has been adopted as a christian practice because of the concept and principle but not necessarily the traditional practice of it, such as the killing for revenge. So this is a picture of where the ifoga is accepted. Right, the family of the victims can come and remove the fine mats off the heads of the family members of the offenders. Ifoga is a collective responsibility. Now, this goes back into the idea of sustainable peace. And in the reading, it talks about peacebuilding is largely about relationships. And while macro-structural forces must always be accounted for, the key relationships for building sustainable peace exists primarily at the local and community level. So the majority of the book towards the end, I felt like looked into the idea of, you know, community peace building, which is very relevant to Samoa and other Pacific Island cultures. So ifoga is a collective responsibility and right. Samoa values the idea of collective society, which means that the extended family represents the rights of the individuals. This also means that individual rights are subordinate to collective rights. This sometimes can clash between customary law and constitutional law, which in Samoa still exists. Fundamental Rights are founded on the philosophy on individual liberty, while communal rights and obligations are based on the philosophy of collectivism as administered by the village fono or the council of chiefs. However, the court system of Samoa which follow constitutional law have declared that Samoans know and understand “e le taofia e tagata faatau le tulafono mai le faagaoioia”, meaning “customs do not stop the law from operating.” And this is not to say that the courts ignore the significance of the ifoga. As a legal scholar has noted, Guy Powles, he says “the ifoga is part of the legal system of Samoa, a legal process within the customary law domain of Samoa's dual legal system. It is the process based upon Samoan law, which preceded European contact with the islands, and which is preserved by the independence constitution of Samoa in 1962 and recognized today by the formal courts”. However, this may be it is evident in many ifoga that it is the village fono, who has the authority over customary practice. The ifoga is the customary practice whereby collective rights of the aiga or family outweigh and dominate any individual rights. Individual rights are a product of colonial structures and hierarchies and forced by post colonial institutions of power, such as the state, international agencies, the mass media, and Samoans who live within the diaspora. They have influenced Samoan societies, to think of themselves as members of non-traditional collectivities and not as members of traditional collectivity, such as the aiga potopoto or extended family. In some ifogas, even though the members of both families have come to an agreement. Sometimes, the victim may feel deeply wounded emotionally and mentally by the offender which may result in a redress or taking revenge. Ifoga as a restorative justice is a philosophy that embraces a wide range of human emotions including healing, mediation, compassion, forgiveness, mercy, and reconsolidation, as well as sanction, when appropriate. It does not seek for vengeance and punishment, but for the healing of both the community and individuals involved. The ifoga has all the characteristics behind the theory of restorative justice. First, the ifoga involves the collective work of a whole community, which means that everyone who was affected by the criminal behavior will have heart in resolving the dispute. Because Samoa is a collective society most of its customary practices are carried out in a collective effort. It is therefore not a new theory and practice. It is also a common practice in many other cultures in the Pacific. Second, it involves the process of healing, which means that it is not a solution to the dispute and similar disputes as it can occur occasionally in families, communities, churches, schools and peer groups, but it is a healing process. It is better defined as a means to heal the emotional wounds of the victim and his or her family as well as the offender's family in their feeling of remorse and guilt. Third, it involves mercy and compassion as the offender's family is at the mercy of the victim's families as they bow their heads in humility and shame to plea for forgiveness even though the circumstances can turn violent. The mercy and compassion is given to the offender's family once the ifoga is accepted, and they are forgiven. Fourth, if the process of reconciliation is also taking place, when the ifoga is performed and accepted, it reconciles any hard feelings of anger and pain that the victim's family may feel towards the offender of his or her family. The reconciliation also means that any other dispute that may ignite from this primary dispute should never happen as both parties will agree to forgive and forget. It will also foster a sense of community and form stronger bonds amongst family members as they feel a sense of personal and social empowerment from the whole process. Fifth, mediation is performed by both the matias or the chiefs of the offender's family and the victim's family as they discuss how to handle the ifoga and its outcome. They are then the mediators in the conflict acting on behalf of the extended family and village. Last, a sanction is appropriate where matais or chiefs in the victim's family can request for monetary gifts from the offender's family to help pay for the funeral costs. In some cases, members of the offender's family are sanctioned not to enter the village for a number of days or weeks until the victim's family completes their grieving period and is ready to move on. So going back into my brother's case, at the end, the chiefs and the family came and removed the fine mats, and they accepted, you know, the monetary gifts and all the food and items. And we were able to feel a sense of relief. I mean, it was kind of scary for me having to go through that. And knowing that I had to leave my home, I was gone for the whole day that day, I stayed at my best friend's house. But a lot of these cases, because of christianity, you know, the ifoga process run smoothly throughout a lot of villages. Some people might say that, oh, it's a traditional, you know, healing process or a process of forgiveness, asking for forgiveness that we don't really practice today. In fact, it is still practiced today by a lot of villages. Thank you.

Joseph Staurt: The next speaker you'll hear is Professor Ben Cook, who is an Associate Professor at the BYU Law School and Director of the Center for Peace and Conflict Resolution.

Ben Cook: I need to confess something as I start, I'm going to share some thoughts, but I'm not fully confident that I know how to stop a stampede. I do know how to start a stampede though, and I'm going to share a story about that. So this is my grandma's ranch in Grace, Idaho. And I grew up in the Salt Lake area, but we would go up and spend time on the ranch in the summer and learn to ride horses. I rode horses fairly well, but was in no stretch any kind of legitimate cowboy. And one summer when I was in high school, I went up to the ranch with my friend Shad. And we were riding horses and kind of got bored. And we were in a field where there were about 200 head of cattle standing around grazing. And we thought it might be kind of fun to play cowboy and see if we could just herd the cows across the field. So we started doing that we kind of nudged them and they started moving slowly across the field. And it was pretty fun, I felt like a cowboy. But it got kind of boring after a little bit. So we thought what would be even more fun would be to make them run across the field. So we started yelling and the cows started running and it was pretty awesome! We're chasing after them cattle dog came out starts nipping at their heels into a frenzy and it’s really exciting. But we started to notice in a panic that they're approaching the end of the field, and there's a barbed wire fence. So we tried to race out in front of the herd to head them off, but we couldn't get there in time. And this whole herd of cattle just plowed right over the fence and scattered every which way. So we spent the next couple hours with some help from neighboring ranchers, rounding the cows up, getting them back in, repairing the fence. Anyway, kind of not smart on our part, right? But I think about this story, when I consider the social landscape, especially in the United States but in other places around the world and I look at the divisiveness and ugliness that we are confronting. It feels to me like we're this herd of cattle. We're charging recklessly not just toward a barbed wire fence, but toward an abyss. And it feels like we're all blaming each other and no one is taking responsibility. The dog in this analogy might be cable news shows whipping everyone into a frenzy. And there might be some people trying to head us off but we're all kind of collectively headed toward this abyss and it feels pretty urgent to me that something be done. And I don't think there's an easy answer to that. I think there are some ideas. And I think some of those we find in David and Patrick's book, I want to focus on one of those. My thesis for today is that the ward is an ideal entity to develop and promote a culture of peace. Not just that it can happen in wards, but that it needs to happen in wards, especially given the appalling lack of political leadership in the US and many other countries around the world. Of all the beautiful and brilliant contributions the book makes, I want to underscore the just words theory is not just a good idea, but a critical and urgent one. So 3 things that I hope you take from my presentation today. The first is, I want to talk about linear versus systems thinking and peacebuilding, what those are, how they're relevant. Number 2, why track two diplomacy is so important. And then 3, the vital role of Latter-day Saint ward's in peacebuilding. So I have a roadmap to accomplish those three things in three acts, Act 1, the blind men and the elephant. So we'll talk about systems and linear thinking, Act 2 is a marvelous ward and a wonder, talk about track one track two diplomacy, what do wards have to do with that? And then Act 3, we're going to circle back to the idea of stampede. How do we get this off? Okay. So jumping into Act 1, then there's two types of thinking I want to focus on. So linear thinking versus systems thinking. Linear thinking is zooming in, system thinking is zooming out. Linear thinking can be helpful, depending on the problem, right? It's sort of this basic cause effects type of thinking. And a simple example of linear thinking in helpful context is making an omelet. So if you want to make an omelet, you have to use systems thinking, right? So it involves heating up a pan, cracking eggs, mixing the eggs together, putting them in the pan and heating them up, right? This is a basic, simple way, linear thinking can work. It's helpful for some problems, very limited for other problems. So when we think about peacebuilding, when we're trying to think about how to deal with conflict, linear thinking, is usually not a very helpful approach. It's too narrow, right? So even something that might be just simple, an interpersonal dispute between you and me, if we focus on linear thinking, we might think, well, I said this, and you said that, and then we try and solve what this difference might be, that that might be a linear thinking approach, but we're gonna miss a lot of what's really important about what's going on. Right, we may not actually resolve a dispute, because what's going on in a conflict, even if it's just interpersonal, between two people, there's a broader context in which that's happening, all of your history and culture and context and your life experiences that you're bringing to the conflict, and then all of that stuff on my side. And linear thinking is going to miss that. Right. David mentioned this yesterday, but this story, the blind man and the elephant. Linear thinking is going to focus on you might have a really good sense of some part, but missed the whole. So when it comes to conflict resolution, it's really critical that we employ systems thinking, when we're using systems thinking, we're zooming out, and we're casting a broad net to get a big picture, look at everything that might be going on, there might be a presenting problem. But that presenting problem is happening within this broader context of so many other variables. And we're trying to get a sense of what those things are. One of my favorite piece building models was developed by a guy named Robert Rutigliano. And it's based on this idea of systems thinking. And so Rutigliano, comes up with this simple model called the “SAP Model”. And it involves these three things. So the structural domain consists of institutions, right? So if you if you want peace, you have to have things like free and fair elections, you have to have a functioning judiciary, that's fair and efficient. You have to have a free press. This is the structural domain. A is for the attitudinal domain, so this is where culture happens, how do we see each other as a people? How do we treat vulnerable people in our society, that's what's happening at the attitudinal level. And then the third is transactional. Transactional, or the negotiation and decision making abilities of people who are decision makers. So if you have a president who is inclined to use violence to solve a problem, that's going to be very different than if you have a president who might be inclined to negotiate, right? So Ritigliano argues that a systems approach to peacebuilding is going to involve all three of these domains, and failing in any one of them, is going to prevent you from really having sustainable peace. So what I want to do is just focus briefly on the attitudinal and transactional and how does that relate to diplomacy and what does this have to do with wards? Okay, so many of you are familiar with track one and track two diplomacy. In case you're not track one diplomacy is what you might typically think of when you think of diplomacy. Right. So this is state level engagement in peace negotiations, for example, right? So if our, you know, heads of state are meeting to negotiate some sort of peace. This is that transactional domain, it's very important, right? Track 2 diplomacy is the attitudinal domain. And this is happening below that upper level. So it can be religious groups, it can be NGOs, it's these grassroots efforts, and typically what that's doing is affecting culture, right? We're changing people's attitudes, how we see each other. And this is a really critical part of making anything that happens at the transactional level work. You might negotiate a peace treaty, but if the people on the ground aren't ready for it, it's not going to be sustainable, right? And so, so these track two efforts end up being end up being really critical to anything that's happening in the other domains, right? I've been thinking a lot about the Israeli Palestinian conflict lately, because BYU Law School has a new program, where I was co directing this program last month in Jerusalem, and we had a group of 12 law students who after a semester long prep class we were in the Holy Land meeting with different people in organizations to learn more about the conflict, and what might be done. And I have to say, when you look at the track one level right now, in that particular conflict, it's not especially hopeful, there's not a lot of things happening at that track one level that give you any kind of reason for optimism. I found that I was pleasantly surprised at what was happening at track two. And I want to just give one example of that. We met with some people at this organization called the Arava Institute, and the Arava Institute was set up to focus on environmental issues. And the interesting thing about environmental issues is they don't care if you're Israeli or Palestinian, right? They don't care if you're Jewish, or Muslim, or Christian, they're going to affect all of us. And so what the Arave Institute has done is they use that as their broader purpose. But then they bring Israeli politics, Israeli and Palestinians together to work on these big existential type problems. But maybe the more important work that they're doing is actually, among those students who come. These are people, Israelis and Palestinians, who previously have often never had any kind of interaction. And suddenly, they're living in the same dorms, eating meals together, and getting to know each other. We met with a panel of students, there was an Israeli Jewish woman from West Jerusalem, and a Palestinian guy from the West Bank, and a Palestinian guy from Jordan. And I'll never forget, the Israeli woman said, “I used to be afraid whenever I heard anyone speak Arabic. It was scary to me. But I came here, and I had never, I didn't know any Palestinians. These were the first Palestinians I had ever met. And I became friends with them. And when I did, I started to get curious. So I started to study Arabic.” And she said, “I started to realize when I heard someone shouting out Arabic, it was a woman calling for her kid to come in the house, and not to kill all the Jews.” That's what she said. And I thought that was amazing. I thought that was amazing to see fear, transition to curiosity. And how powerful that is when we get curious. And we're motivated by curiosity instead of fear and what that opens up. This is happening at this grassroots level. And it's not fast, right? These are individual people that this is happening with, but they're going to go home, and they're going to influence their family and friends, right? These kinds of efforts, one at a time. It's slow, it takes time, but I think that's the kind of work that needs to be happening, that attitudinal domain, that kind of work needs to happen. This was another one, another organization we met with, I don't have time to go into that. I love so many things about the book. But I think this chapter on just ward theory, aside from being a really clever title is so important. Because the ward is uniquely set up to function as a track two model where we can make a lot of progress, I think so I think that happens in two ways. The first is developing interpersonal peace. And this came up yesterday in the panel, I loved hearing some of the thoughts on this from the panelists yesterday. But if you haven't read Eugene England's "Why the Church is as True as the Gospel", it's an essay, you need to read it as soon as possible. It's an amazing essay. And England in this essay talks about this notion that we sometimes say is, “Well, the gospel is perfect, but the Church is imperfect, because it's run by us people. And we're imperfect.” And he challenges that notion. He says, the very fact of the church, being imperfect, is why it's perfect. Because as we were discussing yesterday, as we heard the panelists discuss yesterday, you go to church, not with who you choose to go to Church with, right. You go to church with whoever is living in this general area. And so that means I might have to go to church with people I would otherwise not want to associate with. And I have to learn to serve them and love them anyway. I had a home teaching companion one time, who I never would have chosen to be a friend. We were very different in lots of ways didn't have a lot in common, very different politically. And he would post things on Facebook that I really hated. But we also had kids who were struggling. And it was heartbreaking. And I would hear his stories and share mine with him. And so when I saw him post on Facebook, I didn't ever agree with what he had to say, I knew this guy. And I knew that we suffered in similar kinds of ways with our kids. And it changed the way that I might have interacted with him if otherwise I didn't have a chance to associate with somebody like that. So it's a chance to do that really hard work of learning to love people who we disagree with. You're thrown into that situation in a ward it's an it's an amazing kind of set up but it gives us a unique opportunity to do that. And then we take those skills and you take them out into the world. I love what Melissa had to say about that yesterday. You mobilize right? And my second point here is, and Patrick and David (55:13) give some good examples in the book about the pure religion committee of a Provo state, and then I was a stranger Refugee Assistance, that initiative. Wards are an amazing place where that kind of work can happen. Circling back to the stampede. This quote, I think Fred brought this quote up about the east from the book and the context, David and Patrick explained that the peacebuilding scholar and practitioner John Paul Lennar was asked, “Well don't you need critical mass, right?” And I think Fred was pointing this out, you know, what do we do about LDS words, you know, we're pretty small proportion of the population. So don't you need critical mass and Lennar's response was, “Well you need critical yeast.” I thought it was such a beautiful idea to apply in this context, right? Because a ward a ward is not a panacea to conflict in the United States in the world. Right. But, you know, think about that stampede. We didn't need the whole herd to turn. I think even if you had a couple of cows decide to turn, they can induce other people to turn, right. We didn't need the whole herd to turn all at once. So I don't know that we need to get overwhelmed at the size of the task, right? We have what it takes. You can go to a ward, you can do the interpersonal work, you can mobilize. And if you're even successful, just bringing turning one or two people having that kind of influence, I think that's how we become the critical yeast. So my final thought there is just as we more fully appreciate, and leverage the ward as a track to form a diplomacy, I think we can more effectively function as a script for yeast. Thank you.

Joseph Stuart: The final speaker that you'll hear from today is David Whitby, who is an Assistant Professor of Intercultural Peacebuilding at BYU-Hawaii. In this role, he teaches undergraduate courses on transformative mediation, non-government organizations and peacebuilding, peace education, and peace ecology. Remember, if you are enjoying these sessions, there are two more that you can find on the Maxwell Institute's YouTube channel under the playlist proclaim peace.

David Whitby: Aloha again! My first one that's like, again, Patrick and David already this amazing book, I have found it for promoting educational and revelatory are definitely a book that I think that every Latter-day Saint reader, and not just those interested in peacebuilding. Vinaka to both the panelists that spoke before me in this conference, for also add into my baskets, my basket of knowledge. My response today is shaped by my perspective as a child of Oceania, as a Latter-day Saint, me being male, hypotonia is my and my infancy in this academic journey that I'm on. I also want to acknowledge the many people and many voices in telenovela that have shaped my thinking. I want to start with a story from Oceania. It's a short account of the Maori people of Rēkohu and a covenant that they have made which has governed their life, their culture, and shaped their identity as Maori people. It's a story similar in vain to that of the anti-Nephi-Lehi's one which makes it and also a shared proclaim peace that saved the atonement of Christ captures the inherent power of non-violently loving our enemies. It is not my story of my people, but I've been given a blessing to share it from Maui Solomon, Vice Chair of the Hokotehi Moroori Trust and the grandson of the last full blooded Maori: Tommy Solomon. Maui, if you're joining us today from afar, —. Rēkohu or the Chatham Islands are a set of islands 500 miles to the east of Aotearoa, New Zealand. The Maori with ancestral ties to Eastern Polynesia and Maori are the original inhabitants of Rēkohu. Maori traditional says that they first arrived on Rēkohu between 1000 and 1400 CE. Along with the Maori, the Maori are the recognized indigenous people in New Zealand. What was and is unique to the Maori and system apart from other Polynesian people in history was the community's total abandonment of violence, participating in war and killing other human beings and the adoption of pacifism. In an era where bloody warfare, cannibalism, and other violent atrocities were rampant, the pre-christian cra Maori buried and burned their weapons of war and made a peace covenant with each other. Nunuku-whenua, a Maori leader, reaffirmed this covenant 600 years ago, and it has come to be known as Nunuku's Law or in other cases, Nunuku's Covenant. In an extract from cases of traditional peace strategies, Solomon shared of this law and I quote, “By forbidding the taken of human life and placing their weapons of war upon the tuahu, the sacred altar, the Maori entered into a covenant with their gods. From that time forward, power over life and death was removed from the hands of men and placed into the hands of the gods.” Tradition tells us that the knowledge of the peace covenant was passed from father to son during the baptismal rite or ceremony known as talking. Representative weapons of war, which have been placed in the tuohu, were removed and handed to the child. An explanation was then given to the child that the weapons were once used for fighting, and could kill another human being. By placing the weapon back on the tuahu, the child was symbolically renewing the covenant for the next generation, and completely, taking a serum discovered was tested despite the moral or is irrelevant isolation on Rēkohu. Dr. Michael King, writing on the Mororis stated that non violence is an effective weapon only against an adversary who shares your conscious. Invading Maori tribes did not share the Maori's pacifism. In 1835 Maori tribes in the northern island of New Zealand, invaded Rēkohu. The Maori gathered on the east of Rēkohu to decide on a response. The younger people urged resistance saying that no Nunuku's Law was designed to protect them from one another and did not applied to those who were not Maori. They needed to fight back or face death. All the chiefs and elders disagreed, saying that Nunuku's Law was a moral imperative, and that breaking the covenant would represent a betrayal of the gods and a loss of mana for them as a people. The Maori people did not fight. Instead, as their custom, they offered peace, friendship and a sharing of the islands resources. Shortly afterwards, hundreds of Maori was slain by Maui. The majority people did not fight back, “They commenced to kill us like sheep…”, one survivor said later, “...wherever we were found.” The Maori people were enslaved and killed. And the moral population was disseminated. Yet, that this treatment of the Morori people continued for 30 more years, only speaks to the Maori's commitment to Nunuku's Law, or Nunuku's Covenant. Alma 26:32, “For behold, they would rather sacrifice their lives than you will to take the life of the enemy, and they bury their weapons of war deep in the earth, because of the love towards their brethren.” Like the Maori, many other people of Oceania share many features of identity that shaped their ways of being in the world. I want to speak on three features of which touched on in the book, but which I would like to see explored in a more in more depth in a possible path to maybe one titled, Weapons of Peace. These three features shaping identity, collectivism, and culture, the centrality of land and impairment and colonization. An argument can be made at the majority of Latter-day Saints membership is situated in countries that housed only collectivistic cultures. Collectivism is the practice of prioritizing, emphasizing group, interdependence and interconnection over the needs of the individual or the self. Collaboration, connection relationships, social order specific roles, honor, obedience and adherence to a communal value system is expected. Proclaim Peace does touch on the importance of relationships, recognizing that key relationships are needed, especially at the local and community level, to build sustainable peace. Pages 201 and 202 on the structure of sin and collective guilt connects with this collectivistic mindset our entire groups been guilty of wrongdoing when individual members have personally committed a wrongful act. In Kolpin collectivistic cultures, and the one I happen to be a part of, this is the beauty of the system that I am one connected to others in every fiber of my being, governed by a value system of principles and norms that dictates my way of being towards others, and others ways of being towards me. And when I mess up, or I'm in conflict, my community will support and come together to address it. After much Talanoa, sometimes many billows of cups of kava. I trust that my elders will know what to do. And sometimes this means ifoga in Samoa as was is talked about or pulauifi in Tonga, or — in Fiji, or community response to conflict even when instigated by individuals within the group. Collectivistic approach to addressing violence and conflict within the interplay of Latter-day Saint culture and space-based traditional culture would be an interesting aid to. Patrick, in yesterday's plenary discussion, acknowledged this is one of those blind spots around conflict in relation to war creation, and that either proclaim peace, focused mostly on human-human conflict. To understand conflict and proclaim peace in any space, but especially Oceania, I am of the belief that peace builders must take the time to understand how cultures view the land, fauna, flora and other resources. For many indigenous people here this relationship relates to all aspects of existence, culturally, spirituality, language, law, and family. It is embedded in ta and va, time and space. I knew my dean was coming so I put that in. In many of these cultures, these parts of creation is an ancestor, a relative that is respected and cared for who in turn cares for us. When this is done there is ono, or balance, harmony and the absence of conflict. I teach a peace ecology class on campus this semester and the aim of the course is to help students develop and nurture an environmental and peace consciousness for the preservation of positive peace and ecological integrity. And one of our last readings coming up next week if you're in the class, we explore the idea of collective re-enchantment, from Randall Amster. In the reading Amster suggests a solution to violence towards the land and environment. And he suggests it is for us as humans to redefine our moral, emotional and spiritual relationship with the world around, among, and within us, and to fall back in love with the world. Elder Marcus B. Nash, in his speech at the 18th annual Stigler central symposium in April 2013, stated, “Nevertheless LDS doctrine is clear. All humankind are stewards over this earth and its bounty, not owners and will be and we will be accountable to God for what we do with regard to his creation.” But as we are to answer for not only our violence towards other humans, but also towards other souls in God's creation. Lastly, colonization has left its scars around the world. Many countries still suffer structurally, emotionally and personally from the use of colonized rule. Suffering that has manifested itself in ethnic, land and resource conflicts among others. There is no wonder that Galton in 1998, summarized colonialism as direct cultural and structural violence. A culture of peace will not be achievable unless colonized spaces are decolonized. To me this means recognizing the contribution to my education, and academic journey of Western principles, philosophy, content, and pedagogy. Recognizing it means valuing it because it is placed and is of significance. Decolonizing also means looking within my own depth of other indigenous cultures, to alternate discourses, narratives and thinking of the world in original space. So in diaspora this part of identity can weigh on the individual, and instead of dwelling can be opposing forces pulling individuals in groups into conflict. Ultimately, in our context, decolonizing is about liberating the mind and providing an equal space for Western and indigenous approaches to eradicate violence, stop conflict and in the unnecessary taking of life. Part two could include the lens of decolonization on Latter-day Saints peacebuilders. But also pieces a journey where the three facets of peace come together, direct piece, cultural piece, and structural piece, which I feel directly connects to system, the system approaches as detailed by Ben. Obviously, a culture of peace as understood by the Western world would be different from a culture of peace, defined by others. The definition of a culture of peace must make room for cultural polarity, it will almost be culturally insensitive, to prescribe a singular meaning to define a culture of peace, when there are myriad of different ways to define and live it. Where I think we can find some common grounds is that capitalizes in the journey of our people, our communities, towards peace. I believe it's in the journey, in the process that we create a culture of peace, and it's not some distant, lofty end goal. Do we as Latter-day Saints as cultural use enjoy as part of our religious cultural conditions, a situation conducive to a culture of peace? I say yes. The chapter on Just War Theory outlines a clear foundation which our culture of peace can be built on with Christ as Israel. We as Latter-day Saints have the potential to be influential in our many spaces, to constrain human violence, and expand human love. My last slide shows the picture of a fine map mastery woven mostly by a woman folk in the Pacific, of immense significance and value in common Oceania. In conversations with Pacific scholars like Michael Linga Linga and our technology Heather Divya, their ideas of weaving together fabric unique to the space is integral in contextualizing the cultural peace journey. And this may be where the values of church and traditional culture can be married. In concept, the weft that unites and connects all strands could be Christ, with separate warps of respect, love, honor and education depending on the space and what is needed. A Tongan weave would include the weft of Mamahi'i me'a, loyalty. The Fefaka'apa'apa'aki, mutual respect. And —, to keep and maintain religion relationships. A Fijian would include the weft of —, God or church and the — land or place of origin and —. The weave designs may change as you can see in the bottom right hand corner, to the weft and warps may hold different values. But the culture of peace journey continues in these different spaces. As part of my journey, is looking to create a model of peace education in Fiji one that is not as heavily prescribed by outside forces, but equally grounded in Fijian values and purpose. I hope to positively influence children to choose love and to be good citizens. Citizens not trapped within the cycle of conflict that has hindered Fiji's growth. As Mason and Pulsipher stated on page 171, “It makes good sense because it provides social stability and provides a political system that allows for humans to live together in our community.” I started with the Maori and I will end my remarks with another lesson from the culture of peace. And I quote, “Mero'o is a Maori term that means "in peace". It is used as both a salutation and affirmation. The word ro'o also embodies other vital ingredients for peaceful living aince ro'o also means to listen, mero'o implies that in order to be in peace, one must also listen deeply and respectfully.” This listening is not just amongst people, but also incorporates a deeper level of listening to the rhythm and sounds of the living systems to which we are all connected. — Thank you.

Joseph Stuart: Thank you for listening to the Maxwell Institute Podcast. Could you please rate review and subscribe to the podcast wherever you're listening to this podcast and recommend it to others so that we can fulfill the Maxwell Institute's mission to inspire and fortify Latter-day Saints and their testimonies of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and engage the world of religious ideas? Thank you and have a great week.