Letters of Hope for the Season for Nonviolence
Visit daily during the Season for Nonviolence for new letters
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"All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights." {Universal Declaration of Human Rights, article 1} The Universal Declaration, adopted by the United Nations in 1948, is our beacon of hope in these times of turmoil, division and violence. Its magnificent, ultimately irrefutable and irresistible promise of universality is our roadmap to a just, sustainable world at peace. A promise that was crafted and offered at a time when the world had come face to face with the previously unimaginable depths of our capacity for violence and brutality. A time when we were reeling from the carnage of the Second World War and the harrowing evil of the Holocaust. How notable, then, that at such a time we knew that the way ahead did not lie in more of the same. It did not lie in bigger armies, and deeper divisions and suspicion. It did not lie in hiding away from, and certainly not in vilifying one another. Instead, we committed ourselves to the simple and universal truth of our shared humanity. Today, it is almost impossible not to give in to doubt and cynicism; in fact at times it seems inescapable. We have after all had nearly eighty years to find our way towards that universal promise. In despair, do we look around and give up? For in 2026 it seems evident that we have not only failed to deliver the promise; it feels as if we are losing ground. But the poetry and the necessity of universal human rights persists. I have been humbled time after time when I have encountered the Declaration in a corner of the world where hope had every reason to have been extinguished. But there it was, pinned to a post in a Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh and framed and hung high on a wall above the heads of a group of young boys locked up without charge in a prison in Burundi. More times that I would ever be able to recount I have seen it lifted up on protest placards and in defiant chants that are all about resisting, insisting and imagining. That is because the universal promise of human rights speaks of something that will ultimately prevail, for it is ultimately undeniable. It is at such a time as this, when we feel as if humanity's ground is heaving under our feet that we must turn to each other like never before. For that is where true power lies. It lies in solidarity and community. It lies in creativity and affection. It lies in courage and determination. More than anything else, it lies in believing. Believing in ourselves and believing in one another. No matter how steep the climb, change is in our hands. Reach out and grasp the hands around you. For they are many. And do not let go. I certainly will not. Alex Neve Ottawa, Ontario  The other day as I left my downtown campus, I was greeted pair of Canadian geese that lives at our college. Actually, I was more scolded than greeted, but it still felt like a warm reunion. The return of these ornery downtown geese who make their yearly nest on one of our patios was proof that spring is here. And despite their concrete surroundings, these geese haven’t forgotten who they are, or where their home is. A few days later another sign of spring arrived when I spotted a groggy sowbug making its way across my kitchen floor. The garden of our 1912 home is full of creatures that are excellent composters. They wake reliably each spring and start transforming decaying materials into nourishment for the next round of vegetables and flowers. In that moment, I realized that no matter what else is happening in the world, the sow bugs have not forgotten who they are, and they have not forgotten their responsibilities. For us humans though, it’s not hard to get off-track. At times I am swallowed up by this tension-filled moment in history, and I do forget. So when I saw that sow bug, and thought about those geese who know that this is their home not ours, I was prompted to think about what I should be remembering. What do I believe humans are here for? What are our responsibilities? I wondered if answering that question might help guide my thoughts out of despair and towards more hopeful action. I share some of my reflections in this poem: We are here We are here to wonder and be in awe of the beauty and complexity of the natural world around us. We are here to learn from each other and to take turns guiding each other through this life on earth. We are here to create and be creative – to tell stories and sing songs and paint the pictures that explore and share the depths of our hearts. We are here to laugh, to be playful, and joyful. We are here to love each other, and to create friendships and families, like those geese downtown. We are here to transform all that no longer serves us into nourishment for something new, like those sow bugs. We are here to steward this world into the hands and hearts of future generations, to ensure it is a world in which they can thrive. Let’s remember who we are together, and that is still possible and necessary for us to do our work, despite those whose actions reveal how much they have forgotten. Jaime Fiddler Calgary, Alberta  In world where violence seems to be the only answer for dealing with conflict and injustice, it can feel as though non-violence has no place. I have hope though that people can be reminded of the potency of non-violence. Non-violence still matters for the simple reason that it preserves something violence always destroys: the possibility of a shared future. Violence can generate quick, visible outcomes, but it hardens divisions, fuels resentment, and often creates cycles that are difficult to break. Non-violence, by contrast, maintains a hope for dialogue, accountability, and eventual reconciliation. It recognizes that today’s opponent could still be part of tomorrow’s community. In a world where conflict can easily dehumanize people, non-violence tries resist this tendency. It says that justice cannot be built on an approach that will reproduce the very harm that people are trying to end. This doesn’t mean people are being passive in the face of unjust behaviour; it just means that the injustice is being confronted in ways that don’t reproduce it. Finally, non-violence matters because it shapes the kind of world we are trying to create. If the goal is a society grounded in respect, fairness, and cooperation, then the methods we use to get there can't be irrelevant. Non-violence connects means with ends. It reminds us that how we engage in a struggle is inseparable from what we ultimately are trying to build as a community, society or country. So we can do our part to show people why non-violence still matters today - and how it can be the 'new' default response for resolving conflicts between individuals, communities, and nations. Rahil Khan Ottawa, Ontario  Dear friends, When I think about peace, I do not think of silence or the absence of war. I think of people showing up for one another. I think of community. The recent outbreak of new wars, alongside rising polarization, deep inequality, and environmental destruction, fills me with fear. Yet alongside that fear, I have felt something else growing - hope. I was born in a peaceful county, that good fortune plus a lot of privilege allowed me to choose a career in humanitarian work. That path has taken me to many places in the world, invariable at moments of crises. I have seen disease outbreaks, war, and famine. Some of those experiences have stayed with me in difficult ways. But what has stayed even more strongly is how people respond. Again and again, I have seen people help one another. I have seen those on opposite sides of conflict pause to face a shared disaster. I have seen people leave their own work to mediate peace. The news often highlights division because it is unusual. What I have seen is that, much more often than not, people choose to stand together. Early in my career, someone told me: when the problem feels as large as a mountain, pick a spot, grab a shovel, and start digging. Since I was taught that simple lesson, I’ve added my own bit to the quote - that when one person begins, others will often join in. Recently, I have been taught this lesson again at home. Three years ago, a small group of us set out to build something we called the Canadian Peace Museum. It felt like a long and uncertain journey. Then something unexpected happened - we were given a building, not by a government or a corporate donor, but from our neighbours. The Canadian Peace Museum is the proud and grateful owner of 8,000 square feet of premises that we are renovating. Now, there is work to do. Turning a former industrial building into a museum will take time, money and labour. So we started the big task. And people saw us doing that, and they turned up and joined in. This has reminded me of something simple, and deeply important: people want to help one another. In a time when much around us feels uncertain, this is what gives me hope. In peace, Chris Houston Bancroft, Ontario  (This is a poem I wrote and presented at the 2026 Canadian Voice of Women for Peace Banquet – Reva Joshee, Edmonton, Alberta) I am from a place where the sky goes on forever And is created of such magical light That it fills me with hope everyday I am from a tradition That in its best aspects Shows itself in ahimsa and seva I am from great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, uncles and aunts, Siblings, siblets, and kinship grandchildren Whose names would mean nothing to you But to me each is the source of inspiration and the soul of love I am from teachers and students Who have gifted me many moments Of challenge and wonder; optimism and growth I am from friends and colleagues and found family, Who have allowed me to live and work alongside them Learning together to imagine our own ways to peace And in this moment I am from deep awe and gratitude For everyone in this space and elsewhere Who joyfully dedicate themselves to the betterment of our world  |
