Last year, I conducted a lesson with fifth-grade students to create Tibetan prayer/peace flags. These flags consist of red, blue, yellow and green fabric squares with Buddhist representations in the middle and corners, and Tibetan script in the main body. They are to be hung up by an entranceway or by an airway, to spread messages of peace out.

A female student drew hers with a “Praise the Lord!” theme, and drew a few peace symbols around it. At this point, her male deskmate leaned over and asked ”Are you a Christian?” When she responded in the affirmative, he said “Christians shouldn’t draw those [peace symbols]. It’s a broken cross.”

The student knew that I was Jewish from a prior event involving Rosh Hashanah, and the male student regarded me as if I didn’t know what a cross looked like. He drew it upside down, tilted the horizontal lines on a diagonal, and said “See?!”

As a conscientious educator, I responded by trying to reassure the girl — affronted and scribbling out her sacrilegious peace signs — that the symbol is, as far as I know it, secular and that I thought it was beautiful. As a Conscientious Objector, though, I shuddered.

I don’t have a problem with students decorating their Buddhist cultural project with flairs of their monotheistic faith. I do have a problem, though, when a universally-acknowledged symbol of peace is regarded as an emblem of the devil reincarnate.

The peace symbol was created by Gerald Holtom, a British designer and member of the Direct Action Committee Against Nuclear War in the late 1950’s. He conceptualized the sign from semaphores: flag symbols utilized to communicate information during war or from long distances (such as “Attention,” “Correct,” and “Incorrect”). Holtom used the semaphore “N” (two flags in an upside down “V”) and the letter “D” (one flag straight up and the other straight down) to create the symbol — the letters standing for “Nuclear Disarmament.” It became popular in Britain and a few years later spread to the anti-war movement in the United States.

While Holtom has described his thought process in detail, various representations have been incorrectly assigned to this symbol. The one to which my student was referring is that the peace sign suggests the way that St. Peter was martyred (upside down crucifix with the arms broken downward). This broken cross was thought of as an antichrist symbol in the 1960s (right about the time it was gaining popularity with the anti-war movement). This (unnecessary) commotion can best be summed up by the anecdote that the World Wildlife Fund was threatened and derided for its ad at this time featuring a panda holding a peace symbol. The WWF, after receiving angry letters from members, re-issued its advertisement with just the panda’s arms outstretched.

Zeitgeist? I don’t think so. It hurts me to say it, but this pattern crops out throughout the ages.

Why does organized Religion (intentionally-capitalized R) insist on inserting itself whenever it has not had a part? Does Religion get jealous when its followers express themselves in a different way? Must Religion threaten us with being followers of the anti-christ, of being something unholy if it is not included?

Of course, the anti-war movement of the 1960’s assumed a religious aspect itself. “Happenings,” interactive, improvised events resembled Religion’s gathering of people. In Religion, followers oftentimes use prayer to reach another, higher state. In the 60’s, people used....other substances to reach a similar state. (Note: there has been substantial research done in the past few years about Biblical revelations being results of natural hallucinatories. Yes, Moses on drugs. Perhaps Organized Religion should consider these findings carefully.)

Certainly, working for peace is not always peaceful. The recent focus in the media of Bill Ayers loves to highlight this point. Ayers’ philosophy, to me, is an example of Machiavellian thought, that an end-goal (true peace) can justify the means. Of course, “peace” has also been used to justify violent acts wherein the very end-goal of “peace” is a substantially dubious one. Like using full-out war to “spread peace.” Hmm. And what year are we living in?

As a Near Eastern Studies major, I study day in and day out some of the world’s ugliest acts justified in Religion. In Jerusalem alone, you have Christians, Jews, and Muslims who have been slaying each other for three thousand years — for a wall, for a rock, for a piece of land. Each religion has had more than its share of bloody history that would probably astound many followers who don’t question it.

I’ve met tons of religious people in my life who work tirelessly and with very little recognition for peace. This article is not addressed to them, but for the others: those who anachronistically decide which secular symbols get to be holy and which ones don’t. A peace dove is okay because of the dove’s Biblical reconnaissance mission, but Holtom’s peace symbol is not because it has no Biblical foundation — and them crazy youth got all caught up with the peace signs and shit, they gonna bring this society down! Right?

I am certainly not blaming my student: if I believed that my friend was doing something dangerous, I would want to warn them too. But the unsettling questions remain. Why does Religion create false dichotomies of being holy or being peaceful: the choice perfectly represented in my class as the female student worked to re-design her flag. Why isn’t working for peace holy? I started out this article by writing “Tibetan prayer/peace Flags.” Do prayers and peace have to be separated?

Sometimes, Religion can empower individuals to work towards a world of empathy and peace through nonviolent spirituality. Other times, Religion is that shrimpy, vindictive kid who was always running behind the school bus, scrambling to keep up.

Ariela Rutkin-Becker is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at arbecker@cornellsun.com. Dude, Where’s My Karma runs alternate Tuesdays.