Reaching for a New World
Initiatives of Change seen through a Dutch window

by Hennie de Pous-de Jonge

Introduction

This is the story of a movement that did not set out to be one. What it did was to put movement into people with the aim of building a new, a better world. It is the story of an organisation, starting more as an organism, that, in the 80-plus years of its existence, twice changed its name: from Oxford Group to Moral Re-Armament and then to Initiatives of Change.

With the new names came a change in style. There was a different emphasis, but in essence the message stayed the same. And building bridges of trust always remained the prime activity; trust based on change in individuals. It sought to build bridges in the family – between man and woman, parents and children – but also between classes, races, adherents of different world views and religions, people coming from different cultures.

Since I am from the Netherlands and as this movement took root in my country, I am using its development here as a case study. Through this specific lens I have followed the 80-year journey of this international movement against the historical background and through the many upheavals that occurred since its beginning in the early 1920s.

This book is loosely based on my previous book in Dutch which was published in 2005 under the title ‘Reiken naar een nieuwe wereld’ (Reaching out for a new world), in which I describe in a frank and open-hearted way the development of this movement through the experiences of particular people. Because I believe it has transferable lessons for anyone who wants to have a part in building trust in this divided world, I have re-written the book in English for an international audience.

The people who feature in this book have felt attracted to this community for a variety of reasons. The vision of a new world taps into a deep longing. Who would not want this? The challenge is that the change that is required needs to start with myself. This seems obvious, but that may be precisely why we easily overlook it. One of the people that I interviewed told me that the idea that God has a plan and she could have a part in that was what appealed to her most. Often it is not easy to know what to do in a given situation. As human beings we need a quiet space to come to ourselves, to get to know ourselves, to acquire new insights and to find direction for our lives. In silence I can get more clarity on the road to be taken. Especially when I feel stuck, see no way out, the idea that new inspiration can be found in silence gives hope. For many in this book it was obvious that God could show them the steps to take. But the idea of quiet reflection was and is also attractive for people for whom God is not a reality. The ‘quiet time’, one of the basic tenets of this movement, has gradually become common property.

This idea appealed to me when I encountered it at the age of 16. My mother, who had known the Oxford Group in her youth and had kept in touch with some friends, invited me to come with her to the world conference centre of what was then Moral Re-Armament in Caux, Switzerland. I still remember when she suggested this to me. We were on holiday on one of the islands in the north of our country and swimming in the North Sea. Since my mother was active in the women’s movement and president of a women’s organisation in our home town, it was natural that she was invited to a conference for women in Caux. Since there was also a programme for young people she thought it would be nice if I came along. That same summer we travelled together to Caux, a small village above Montreux, where the conference centre looks down on the Lake of Geneva like a fairy-tale castle.

This visit would change the course of my life. I remember most vividly the talks with my roommate Josiene de Loor, who features in chapter 8 with her husband Aad Burger. Josiene, then 26 years of age, impressed me as a warm hearted and elegantly dressed woman, who introduced the idea of the ‘quiet time’ to me. One first result of an insight gained from the quiet time was that I put right my relationship with my sister, who was one and a half years younger and very bright. When I apologized to her for my jealousy, she was very surprised and confided that she had been jealous of me. I am writing about her in the past tense because she died in the summer of 2002. Until the end of her life we have been the best of friends. Another outcome was that the Christian faith, in which I had been brought up, started to mean something in my daily life and the Bible became my guide.

A few years later when I was studying to become a teacher, the ideas of Moral Re-Armament chimed in very well with the general feeling that was paramount in my generation in the late 1960s. It was the sense that many things needed to be different in society and that we could actually make that difference. So after I finished my studies (which my father insisted I should do) I decided not to take up a teaching job, but instead to work with Moral Re-Armament which took me to begin with to India. It was the beginning of a life-long involvement, sometimes more, sometimes less, but throughout the ‘quiet time’ remained an anchor.

Not that the quiet time is a panacea for everything. It is not always obvious to know which road out of the many possibilities to take. Nor is the road that is shown necessarily easy. To change things in one’s life and in the world, difficult decisions often need to be taken. It can demand sacrifices. The road of reconciliation, for example, requires insight as to where you yourself can take the first step. However logical it may sound, that is often very difficult. An enormous inner battle can precede it. Yet nothing is more freeing and infectious as when people are prepared to admit mistakes and simply and sincerely say ‘I am sorry’.

A time of quiet reflection can help us find a meaning for our lives. And through it we can discover support and strength - for some from inside themselves, for others from the ‘other side’, the transcendence, which, depending on our tradition, we call by different names.

In this book people speak about God’s guidance and God’s plan, and about choosing the right road. Here we are on thin ice. How can we be sure of what is right? It comes down to a searching and a feeling of our way. In good faith one takes a road, but one always needs moments when the decision can be tested and to remain open to critical remarks from others. As road signs we can use moral standards. In the range of ideas of this movement four are singled out: honesty, purity, unselfishness and love. How this happened I describe in the first chapter. They can serve as benchmarks and criteria; they stimulate the conscience and can help people to see what could be changed for the better in their lives.

People also feel attracted to this network of bridge builders, because it is about more than action. It is more than a network. It is a loosely-organised world family, where people help and support one another in the chosen task. There is here a natural connection between the personal and the global. The one cannot be seen separately from the other.

The movement is more practical than philosophical. It is not a new thought or belief. It does not take people out of their faith community or tradition. It is more a catalyst to encourage the existing good thoughts and ideas to be put into practice, the lubricant by which beautiful plans and intentions are made to work. From quiet reflection, and out of the experience of change, new ideas and initiatives are born. The name Initiatives of Change, adopted in 2001, exactly fits this process.

In the 80 years of bridge-building, things, naturally, did not always go well. Dogmatism crept in. People had to be very sure of their ground to withstand group pressure and to act in freedom and according to their own insight and conscience. ‘Success stories’ were not always put into perspective. In the heat of conviction and enthusiasm we sometimes gave the impression of having the solution for all problems and that we could implement it better than others. In short, mistakes were made. In different periods the movement was sometimes more and sometimes less controversial. It is hard to tell whether this was because of mistakes that were made or because it put a finger on sore spots. Probably both factors played a part.

A weakness was that the self criticism that one was expected to exercise in one’s personal life was not always applied to the movement as a whole. It took a long time before it was realised that for any organisation self criticism and transparency only add to its credibility.

In the past years there has been more room for self criticism and for modesty. In that space the realisation grew: we do not have the answer and we cannot do it alone. We want to work together with organisations and individuals with similar aims. We hope from our experience to be able to make a specific contribution towards a more just and peaceful world.

The Oxford Group experienced a dynamic growth in the 1930s - a period of deep recession with which our present economic crisis is now being compared. Could it be that Initiatives of Change plays a similar role in this period of insecurity and concern? I believe it has something precious to contribute in face of the many challenges that lie ahead.