This seems to be what is meant by non-resistance; but the name is misleading. It _is_ resistance, and directed at what is believed to be the enemy’s weakest point. As a matter of strategy it is an attack upon his flank, aggression upon an unprotected part of his position. Its justification, in the long run, is in its success. If we do not succeed in making our way into the other man’s mind and changing his point of view by substituting our own, the whole manœuvre falls flat, the injury is done, the ill-doer is confirmed in his courses, and you would better have knocked him down. It is good to appeal to the highest motives we can arouse, and to exercise a good deal of faith as to what can be aroused, but real non-resistance to what we believe to be wrong is mere pusillanimity. There is perhaps no important sect or teacher that really inculcates such a doctrine, the name non-resistance being given to attacks upon the higher self under the somewhat crude impression that resistance is not such unless it takes some obvious material form, and probably all teachers would be found to vary their tactics somewhat according to the sort of people with whom they are dealing. Although Christ taught the turning of the other cheek to the smiter, and that the coat should follow the cloak, it does not appear that he suggested to those who were desecrating the Temple that they should double their transactions, but, apparently regarding them as beyond the reach of moral suasion, he “went into the Temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the Temple, and overthrew the tables of the money-changers and the seats of them that sold doves.” It seems that he even used a scourge on this occasion. I cannot see much in the question regarding non-resistance beyond a vague use of terms and a difference of opinion as to what kind of resistance is most effective in certain cases. It is easy and not uncommon to state too exclusively the pre-eminence of affection in human ideals. No one, I suppose, believes that the life of Fra Angelico’s angels, such as we see them in his “Last Judgment,” circling on the flowery sward of Paradise, would long content any normal human creature. If it appears beautiful and desirable at times, this is perhaps because our world is one in which the supply of amity and peace mostly falls short of the demand for them. Many of us have seen times of heat and thirst when it seemed as if a bit of shade and a draught of cold water would appease all earthly wants. But when we had the shade and the water we presently began to think about something else. So with these ideals of unbroken peace and affection. Even for those sensitive spirits that most cherish them, they would hardly suffice as a continuity. An indiscriminate and unvarying amity is, after all, disgusting.