[1] There was a time when being a pacifist was something brave
and bold-a stand of nonconformity over and against a church that
had grown complacent in its assimilation of Western culture through
the doctrine of "just war." In the past few years, though, a
revolution has occurred among the mainline churches, to the extent
that pacifism is now the established orthodoxy.
[2] As a result, what is commonly known as the doctrine of just
war is either disregarded or merely tacked on to official church
statements that are largely pacifist in their orientation and
rhetoric. One needs only to survey the official documents of the
mainline churches in the past few months to receive confirmation
that the revolution is now complete.
[3] It is my contention that the revolution has gone too far.
Such excess is not unknown in the field of theology. To borrow an
image from Luther, theological discourse often looks like a drunken
horseman, repeatedly losing his balance when he climbs up one side
only to fall down on the other. While elusive, equilibrium is
essential if our theological ethics is to acknowledge the
complexity that attends any discussion of what it means to live in
light of the Gospel. It is also essential if our theological ethics
is to avoid alienating members of the very church it serves,
particularly those who try to live both as faithful Christians and
as dutiful soldiers, politicians, judges, lawyers, and police
officers.
[4] What I propose, then, is to offer an account of just war
that can serve as a viable alternative to pacifism. My intent is
not to refute pacifism-there are no "knock down" arguments that can
establish the primacy of one approach over the other, and many
discussions have gone astray by assuming that such a clear-cut
victory is possible. Moreover, as I will demonstrate, there are
important theological, philosophical, and cultural reasons why
pacifism is currently so popular among mainline churches and
theologians, and these reasons have to be taken into account in any
acceptable doctrine of just war. What I hope to show is that both
pacifism and a properly construed doctrine of just war exhibit
strengths and weaknesses in the realms identified. Once these
particular strengths and weaknesses are in view, a case for just
war emerges that is at least as persuasive as pacifism.
[5] Admittedly, to speak generally of "pacifism" and "just war"
is to use categories that are overly broad. For the sake of
clarity, let me be specific about the kinds of pacifism and just
war that I will compare. In terms of pacifism, my emphasis will be
on the form it primarily takes in American Protestantism, of which
John Howard Yoder and Stanley Hauerwas are prime examples. In terms
of just war, my primary emphasis will be on the form it takes in
the thought of Saint Augustine, and in two retrievals of his
thought on war by Paul Ramsey and Reinhold Niebuhr. This
Augustinian account is often overlooked in presentations of
just-war theory, but it is, I believe, the only form of just-war
theory that can match, if not exceed, pacifism's explanatory
power.
Pacifism
[6] Let me begin with a quick sketch of pacifism-its basic
doctrines, representative figures, and two reasons why it has such
currency among mainline churches. The claim of pacifism is that
coercion in any form is alien to the Christian life. Central to
this claim are the New Testament commands to offer no resistance to
evil, to turn the other cheek, and to love one's enemies. These
commands express Jesus' own selfless love for humanity, which is
manifested in the work of the cross and his mission of mercy and
forgiveness. Consequently, love is properly cruciform-love does not
seek its own good but the good of the neighbor (1 Cor. 10:24), it
seeks to "overcome evil with good" rather than return evil for evil
(Rom. 12:17, 21), it is sacrificial even to the point of giving up
one's life (Matt. 16:24-25; Mark 8:34-35; Luke 9:23-24). Further,
when Jesus introduced this distinctive understanding of love, he
also inaugurated the "kingdom of God"-God's vindication of God's
people and the renewal of God's creation-vindication and renewal
that are to be animated by a vision of peace promised in the Old
Testament, and can be found in verses such as, "They shall beat
their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they
learn war any more" (Isa. 2:4). This kingdom, of course, has not
yet come in its fullness. Christians live "between the times," that
is, there is a tension between what we now experience and the
future consummation of all things in Christ. Christians, however,
witness to this future reality through following the peaceful
example of Jesus. Moreover, it is the duty of the church to live
out this witness in its communal life. The fundamental identity of
the church is to live as a peaceful community so that the love of
Christ and his coming kingdom are made visible to the world.
[7] As Lisa Sowle Cahill notes, these two aspects of
pacifism-its straightforward interpretation of the love commands
and its belief in the accessibility of the kingdom's eschatological
vision of peace-are present in many historical arguments for
pacifism.[1] Menno Simons writes in his
treatise, Foundations of Christian Doctrine, that "now is the time
to arise with Christ in a new, righteous, and penitent existence,
even as Christ says, 'the time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God
is at hand: repent and believe in the Gospel'" (Mark 1:15). Christ
provides "an example of pure love, and a perfect life" that
Christians must follow.[2] These
aspects are repeated by John Howard Yoder in The Politics of Jesus.
Following Simons, Yoder argues that the central task of the
Christian community is to provide a suffering witness borne of the
refusal to live by the sword. For Yoder, the cross is not a detour
or a hurdle on the way to the kingdom, but it is quite simply the
kingdom come. Jesus himself was confronted repeatedly by the
temptation to rely upon violence to accomplish his messianic ends.
Relying on popular support, Jesus could have encouraged the crowds
to overcome the Roman soldiers and authorities in order to
establish his own rule. "The one temptation that the man Jesus
faced-and faced again and again-as a constitutive element of his
public ministry, was the temptation to exercise social
responsibility, in the interest of justified revolution, through
the use of available violent methods." Therefore the "believer's
cross" is not defined in terms of any and every kind of suffering,
sickness, or angst, but rather in terms of the suffering we
experience when we, like Jesus, pay the "price of social
nonconformity" by renouncing the "legitimate use of
violence."[3]
[8] To Menno and Yoder, we may add several other examples of
Christian pacifism, each with its own particular strategies and
justifications. Some argue that pacifism not only identifies the
core of the Gospel but that it "works" better than nonviolence, and
so hold to a pragmatic argument. Hence, Martin Luther King Jr.
believed that nonviolent, civil disobedience provided the best way
to achieve racial integration. Others argue that what is decisive
about pacifism is not that it provides the most faithful way to
live in Christian obedience, but that it expresses the compassion
of Jesus, specifically his identification with the poor and the
powerless. Thus the pacifism of Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton is an
expression of solidarity with the human condition, in particular
the experience of powerlessness and poverty. Certainly, as Yoder
argues, it is important that each type of pacifism be respected in
its own right. However, alongside such "systematic diversity" there
exists a "moral commonality" in large part due to the shared
doctrinal commitments noted above.[4]
[9] In addition to the theological emphases noted above, there
are two further reasons why pacifism has the appeal it now has
among mainline churches. The first is the widespread acceptance of
postmodernism, specifically its suspicion of universalizability,
that is, the belief that there are objective norms that one could
apply across communities and cultures. The postmodern suspicion of
universalizability is threefold: First, postmodernists question
whether transcendent truths are discernable since knowledge of good
and evil is inextricable from the particular narrative and
historical circumstances of a given community. Second,
postmodernists seek to recover the authority these particular
narratives and visions once had concerning a given worldview.
Third, and most important for our purposes, postmodernists argue
that when our moral accounts make recourse to universal visions of
good and evil, acts of coercion necessarily follow. That is to say,
all attempts to transcend the particularity of our own views and to
articulate them in terms of universalizable moral standards are
essentially acts of violence and domination, albeit in a refined
and subtle form.[5]
[10] To a great extent, this postmodern suspicion of
universalizability drives the theological ethics of Stanley
Hauerwas, the most influential pacifist writing today. In The
Peaceable Kingdom, Hauerwas's point of departure is his
dissatisfaction with "unqualified ethics," an ethics abstracted
from a particular time, place, and community, specifically the
modern theories of deontology and utilitarianism. Although often
opposed to each other, those theories are alike in their "attempt
to secure a foundation for the moral life unfettered by the
contingencies of our histories and communities." Such theories,
however, operate with a flawed anthropology, placing undue stress
on "autonomy," which is a necessary postulate of a morality that
transcends these contingencies. As a result, they are unable to
account for those unelected relations and commitments-such as being
part of a family-that are "central to the human project." More
dangerously, these theories perpetuate a "systemic form of
self-deception" regarding our individual power to create our own
moral worlds. This self-deception manifests itself in
"unrelentingly manipulative" interpersonal relations, in which,
under the guise of respecting the autonomy of others, persons
engage in "elaborate games of power and self-interest." It also has
a propensity to underwrite "coercion" because, from this
perspective, "if others refuse to accept my account of
'rationality,' it seems within my bounds to force them to be true
to their 'true' selves."[6]
[11] The church, then, has two roles in Hauerwas's ethics.
First, the church provides a "community of virtues," in which
persons recognize their sinful tendencies toward power, control,
self-deception, and violence, and are transformed through acquiring
the true freedom that comes to those who have learned "to be at
peace with themselves, one another, the stranger," and "God."
Discipleship is "quite simply extended training in being
dispossessed" because "to become followers of Jesus means that we
must, like him, be dispossessed of all that we think gives us power
over our own lives and the lives of others." This process is a
gradual one of learning to "lay down" one's inherent propensities
for violence in order to become "a participant in God's community
of peace and justice." Second, the church is a "servant community"
in which the "peaceable kingdom" initiated by Jesus is manifested
to the world. The church's responsibility is not to develop an
overarching social ethics that stands apart from its communal
practices-to do so would inevitably lead to the coercion that
accompanies "unqualified ethics." Rather, the church is called to
be a nonviolent witness to the new reality made possible by
Christ's peace and reconciliation. As such, the "church does not
have a social ethic, but the church is a social ethic." Through its
faithful imitation of the cross, the church practices nonviolence
and thereby participates in Christ's peaceable
kingdom.[7]
[12] The second reason why pacifism has such currency among
mainline churches has to do with secularism, that is, the
perspective that it is both possible and desirable to articulate a
natural morality that is independent from religious beliefs. The
roots of secularism run deep in the Christian tradition in
institutional arrangements such as the distinction between priestly
and lay vocations, the separation of the powers of church and
state, and the decision in seventeenth-century Europe to look for
nondogmatic foundations for the moral life. Over the course of the
past two centuries, however, secularism has developed into a
perspective that stands apart from and in opposition to a religious
perspective. Where the religious perspective sees morality as
inseparable from a framework of belief, the secularist perspective
argues that there are self-evident principles that can provide the
basis for a civil society and the good life. Further, religious
beliefs are considered relevant only to the extent that they
respect the epistemological limits of secularism. That is to say,
religious arguments must be justified in terms of nonreligious
values. Therefore, as Wolfhart Pannenberg argues, secularism has
evolved into a perspective that valorizes "the autonomy of a
secular society and culture determinedly independent from the
influence of church and religious tradition."[8]
[13] Consequently, surrounded by a liberal society that
assimilates important Christian moral insights, such as the dignity
of the individual, while at the same time rejects Christian
doctrines, mainline churches search for ways to articulate their
own particular commitments regarding human nature and the human
good. But in a society that leaves very little ethical room for the
church to maneuver, what distinctive moral vision does the
Christian faith offer? Other issues of moral gravity, such as
abortion, have proved problematic in that mainline churches have
been unable to find a position that their own membership can
recognize as legitimate and free of internal controversy. Pacifism,
on the other hand, provides a stance that is morally serious and
observes the boundaries set for religious observance by a secular
society. That is to say, pacifism represents the considered
decision of a group of individuals regarding their own ethical
conduct. As such, pacifism is a private stance taken by the church
acting as a voluntary association that does not seek to engage or
shape the moral language of the godless public sphere.
Strengths and Weaknesses of Pacifism
[14] I tried to present a sympathetic and fair view of pacifism for
most Christians. One reason I have done so is to affirm my earlier
observation that there are no pure and simple "knockdown" arguments
that refute pacifism. The objection, for example, that pacifism
advocates an ethics of withdrawal does not hold water. As Hauerwas
(among others) makes clear, while pacifists reject the common moral
language of a secular society, they "are engaged in politics,"
albeit "a politics of the kingdom that reveals the insufficiency of
all politics based on coercion and falsehood and finds the true
source of power in servanthood rather than
domination."[9] My chief reason for
describing pacifism so carefully, however, is to show that serious
weaknesses accompany the strengths of pacifism-indeed, pacifism's
strengths are precisely where its weaknesses reside, in both its
theological emphases and its accommodations to postmodernism and
secularism.
[15] To begin, pacifism's interpretation of the love commands
and its thesis concerning the accessibility of the eschatological
vision of peace promised in the kingdom of God are far from
incontrovertible. Without question, the distinctiveness of
Christian ethics hinges on articulation of the tension between the
created order and its eschatological fulfillment. It is not clear,
however, that peacemaking is the essential virtue necessitated by
an ethics that lives within this tension. Even in those passages in
the New Testament that directly promote nonviolence, it is not
clear that what is being called for is a uniform position of
pacifism regarding violence in every form. For example, in the
Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, a text that most pacifists regard
as authoritative regarding the "new commands" that Jesus gives
concerning love and nonresistance (5:38-48), it is not certain that
the proper interpretation is that which takes these commands at
face value. In fact, there is evidence in the text itself of a way
of understanding that insists that Jesus' words are not to be taken
ad literam. The most obvious example is the apparent addition of
"spiritualizing" phrases (poor in spirit . . . hunger and thirst
for righteousness . . . pure in heart) to the comparable passage in
Luke's Sermon on the Plain (6:20-26).[10] Further, when viewed more
generally, the Sermon on the mount is subject to several possible
interpretations. As many have noted, different tensions in the
discourse suggest at least three interpretations: (one) as a
perfectionist code that stands in line with Rabbinic Judaism; (two)
as an impossible ideal that is intended to drive believers to
desperation so that they will seek God's mercy; and (three) as an
interim ethic to preserve the Christian community through the
trials of the apocalypse.[11] Each
of these interpretations possesses a measure of validity, yet each
dictates a different accounting of the commands to love and
nonviolence-the perfectionist interpretation calls for a literal
interpretation, the impossible ideal for adherence in spirit but
not necessarily in letter, and the interim interpretation as norms
that are obsolete, given that the end is not as near as once was
thought. Given this indeterminacy, it is not surprising that
commentators impose, implicitly or explicitly, additional
hermeneutical frameworks to underscore the pacifist implications of
the Sermon onthe Mount.[12]
[16] Another point where pacifist arguments are flawed is in
their accommodation to postmodernism. As we have seen, particularly
in the form presented by Hauerwas, pacifism accepts postmodern
suspicions of universalizability and conveys unique authority to
the formative narratives and practices of the church. This
accommodation comes, however, at a high price. By accepting an
outlook in which all universalizable standards are forms of
violence, pacifism reduces the moral field of vision into a stark
choice between perpetuating violence or surrendering all claims on
the other. While rhetorically impressive, this outlook treats as
moral equivalents disparate acts such as aggressive verbal
arguments, the arrest of a kidnapper, suicide-bombing, and brutal
invasions by conquering armies. Thus it negates any meaningful
distinctions one could draw between the different modalities of
coercion that societies use both internally and externally to
protect the well-being of its citizens. Further, it cannot
distinguish between a government founded on democratic principles
and a government founded on sheer terror-given that the former is
based on universalizable, and therefore oppressive, values
concerning rights to life or liberty, it is morally no better than
the latter. Consequently, pacifism's accommodation of postmodernism
leads to overly broad and counterintuitive conclusions regarding
the modalities of coercion and forms of government.
[17] A third point where pacifism is weak is in regard to its
response to secularism. As we have seen, one reason for the current
popularity of pacifism is that it provides a way for the church to
articulate its distinctive moral vision in the midst of the
prevailing secular culture. By forsaking, however, the moral
vocabulary through which the state develops its conception of
justice and, by implication, its justifications for coercion,
pacifism reinforces the extreme separation between church and state
espoused by recent secularism.[13] As
such, pacifism ensures the further marginalization of the church in
an increasingly secular society.
Just War
[18] For many, even to acknowledge the shortcomings mentioned
above is tantamount to denying the legitimacy of pacifism.
Particularly in the form defended by Hauerwas, the ethical
framework for pacifism is not deontology but virtue theory.
Pacifism, then, is not defined in terms of an absolute rule
prohibiting violence but in terms of a signal virtue that arises
from becoming adequately familiar with the guiding telos, or end,
of a community. As a result, from the perspective of committed
pacifists, those who acknowledge the strengths of pacifism yet
cannot overlook its shortcomings have not been adequately formed by
the communal practices of the church. The recalcitrant have simply
not developed the practical intellect necessary for recognizing the
centrality of peacemaking, and the primary means through which they
can develop such an appreciation is to immerse themselves further
in the formative practices of the church.
[19] In contrast, I want to propose an account of just-war
theory that nonetheless acknowledges pacifism's theological
emphases on the centrality of eschatology and ecclesiology, as well
as its accommodation of postmodernism and secularism. Such a
reconceived theory of just war would necessarily touch upon these
issues and, to this extent, will bear a conceptual family
resemblance to the positions taken by pacifists. The account of
just war that I present will even presuppose much of the framework
of virtue theory. Consequently, it will not so much aim to refute
or defeat pacifism as to propose its own explanation concerning the
relation between the Christian faith and coercion.
Just War in Augustine
[20] Typically, the locus classicus in the New Testament for
just war is Romans 13:1-6, in which Paul argues that Christians
have an obligation to pray for and obey the "governing
authorities." On this basis theologians articulated a political
theology in which the state was created by God to maintain order.
To preserve this order, Christians were called to bear civil
authority and protect the common good, and a central part of this
obligation entailed military protection of the state. Augustine is
the originator of this interpretation, and it is carried on by
Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, and John Calvin, among many
others.[14]
[21] Although this interpretation is central to traditional
articulations of just war, a better entry point is, however, the
eschatology that such an interpretation presupposes, particularly
as we find it in Augustine.[15] For
Augustine, the central implication of living "between the times" is
not an awareness of the new heights of love of which humanity is
now capable, but of how problematic and tragic expressions of love
can be this side of eternity. As a result, Christians must
recognize certain limitations regarding the peace that is possible
in this world. Eternal peace, in which all persons and communities
are united in love and harmony with God, lies outside our grasp.
Temporal peace, which is a pale reflection of eternal peace, most
often takes the form of the cessation of hostilities rather than
the presence of concord. Further, given the persistence of our
fallen condition in a flawed universe, the neighbor-love mandated
in the New Testament can be exercised through the use of coercion,
particularly in acts of protecting the weak, preserving life,
repelling aggression, and restoring peace. Augustine therefore
views war as a regrettable accommodation to the fractured world
that we inhabit. Moreover, given that human sinfulness compromises
our basic judgments about good and evil, the circumstances and
motivations for going to war can never be fully justified. War is a
tragic reality tinged with regret, sadness, and second thoughts,
and the doctrine of just war limits the scope of violence that is
permissible in the effort to ensure our safety and well-being.
[22] As many have noted, two aspects of Augustine's wider
thought inform what he believes about just war. The first is his
emphasis on interiority-the intent or motivation behind an action
is what counts most because the exterior act is not trustworthy and
can in many cases deceive. For example, God the Father's giving of
his Son Jesus and Judas' betrayal of Jesus are in many ways similar
acts; one, however, does the act of giving out of love, and the
other out of greed. Augustine argues therefore that it is the
difference in "intention" that differentiates the two acts. Viewed
from the perspective of action, both are acts of giving over, "yet
if we measure it by the diverse intentions," Augustine reasons, "we
find the one a thing to be loved, the other a thing to be detested.
Such is the force of charity. See that it alone discriminates, it
alone distinguishes."[16]
[23] This distinction between act and intention stands behind
Augustine's interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount. In Contra
Faustum, Augustine argues against the pacifist interpretation
because the admonition "resist not evil" is properly understood as
an interior directive and not an external commandment. "What is
required here is not a bodily action, but an inward position"
because "the sacred seat of virtue is the heart." Such a view, of
course, leaves open the possibility that one might try to justify
horrid actions on the argument that they proceed from good
intentions. A great deal of harm might be justified on the basis of
Augustine's famous directive to "love and do what you
will."[17] Augustine, however,
argues that the priority he places on the dispositions protects
against acts of brutality: the "real evils in war" are "love of
violence, revengeful cruelty, fierce and implacable enmity, wild
resistance, and the lust of power," all of which are first and
foremost evils of the heart. Thus what generally distinguishes
those who go to war unjustly from those who go to war with just
cause is precisely that the latter act to "punish these
things."[18]
[24] The second aspect is the duality Augustine posits between
the civitas terrena, or "earthly city," and the civitas dei, or
"city of God." As Augustine makes clear in Book XIX of the City of
God, the citizens of these two cities are determined on the basis
of their love: "Two cities have been formedof
twoloves."[19] In the city of God are
those who love God to the point of self-forgetfulness, primarily
through viewing God as the highest good, or summum bonum. In the
earthly city are those who love themselves to the point of
forgetting God, primarily through becoming fixed on material goods
and earthly enjoyments that draw the heart's attention away from
the true end of all desire. Although real, these two cities are not
tangible or embodied-the citizens of each city are commingled in
every human institution, both ecclesial and civil. Therefore, the
distinction between the two cities is to be understood mystically
and eschatologically.
[25] The city of God provides the paradigm for the peace that
should exist in earthly societies. The "peace of the celestial city
is the perfectly ordered and harmonious enjoyment of God, and of
one another in God." Although, as I mentioned earlier, eternal
peace lies outside the realm of possibilities in this life, it
nonetheless is the measure by which all earthly peace is to be
compared. Moreover, emblems of eternal peace are knit within the
fabric of our nature, particularly the human inclinations for order
and sociality. This eschatological tension plays itself out in a
paradoxical state of affairs, in which fractured humans with
divided hearts struggle to live in peace and yet constantly
experience darkness, discord, and moral ambiguity at every
level-between the members of one's household, the city, the world,
and the angels. The most pressing symptom of the discord that
affects the world is war. Indeed, war is the perfect example of the
paradox that Augustine tries to describe. Even when it is
justified, it is a cause for lamentation that human beings are so
enmeshed in misery. And even when war is waged unjustly, those who
wage it are motivated by a desire, however warped and shallow, for
peace. It is "with the desire for peace that wars are waged, even
by those who take pleasure in exercising their warlike nature in
command and battle."[20]
[26] It is, therefore, of first importance that the citizens of
the heavenly city realize that they are a "society of pilgrims,"
living in a world in which no human institutions are free from
paradox and moral ambiguity. Even the visible church, which has
been established by Christ as the vehicle of salvation and is the
most perfect society that the world can know, remains essentially
distinct from the heavenly city, containing among its members many
reprobate among the elect. For the true meaning of Christ's
statement, "My kingdom is not from this world" (John 18:36), is to
make clear that no earthly association, the church included, can
ever claim to be representative of thecity of God.[21] Nonetheless, on the
basis of this same paradox, it is also important for the citizens
of the heavenly city to recognize that human institutions in every
form help maintain the fragile and penultimate peace of this earth.
Citizens of the heavenly city must not be "scrupulous" about
"diversities" in the "institutions whereby earthly peace is secured
and maintained, but recognizing that, however various these are,
they all tend to one and the same end of earthly
peace."[22]
[27] As with his emphasis on interiority, the accommodation that
Augustine suggests on the basis of his doctrine of the two cities
leaves open the possibility that one might drape unjust wars in a
cloak of piety. For those, however, who truly seek to reconcile
their duties to the state with their faith, the vision of the
heavenly city provides a way for those who wage war to examine
their consciences. Given that war is both necessary and evil, the
fruit of such examination would be to instill humility and a desire
for true peace. Such an exercise was required not only of soldiers
but of all Christians at every level of society, and it could only
improve the commonwealth. Augustine writes the following in a
letter to Marcellinus, a Roman imperial commissioner who asked for
spiritual advice concerning the relation between church and state,
in which Christian soldiers play an integral part:
[28] Wherefore let those who say that the teaching of Christ is
incompatible with the state's well-being, give us an army composed
of soldiers such as the teaching of Christ requires them to be; let
them give us such subjects, such husbands and wives, such parents
and children, such masters and servants, such kings, such judges-in
fine, even such taxpayers and tax gatherers, as the Christian
religion has taught that men should be, and then let them dare to
say that it is adverse to the well-being of the commonwealth; yea,
rather, let them no longer hesitate to confess that this teaching,
if it were obeyed, would be the salvation of the
commonwealth.[23]
[29] Both Augustine's emphasis on interiority and his doctrine
of the two cities underlie the criteria that he offers to determine
whether or not a given war is justified. The first criteria is that
war should be just in its intent, which is to restore peace. To
Boniface, a Roman general who struggled with a call to the
monastery, Augustine writes, "Peace should be the object of your
desire. War should be waged only as a necessity . . . therefore
even in the course of war you should cherish the spirit of a
peacemaker." The second criteria is just cause, or that the
objective of war should be to vindicate justice. That is to say,
the primary purpose of a war is retributive rather than
expansive-states should only wage war to punish another state for a
wrong. "We usually describe a just war," Augustine writes, "as one
that avenges wrongs, that is, when a nation or state has to be
punished either for refusing to make amends for outrages done by
its subjects, or to restore what it has seized injuriously." The
third criteria is legitimate authority, or that only heads of state
should wage war, which derives from Augustine's understanding that
peace entails order, and that order is best achieved when persons
observe the roles assigned to them in society. Thus Augustine
argues that the private citizen should not engage in an act of
self-defense because no one can do this without passion,
self-assertion, and a loss of love. "As to killing others to defend
one's own life, I do not approve of this," he writes, "unless one
happens to be a soldier or a public functionary acting not for
oneself but in defense of others or of the
city."[24]
Augustinian and Secular Just War Theories
[30] Augustine is regarded by many as the father of just-war
theory, and a review of his contribution is nearly obligatory in
reflections on war in both medieval and modern thought.
Nonetheless, despite this indebtedness, as the just-war theory
developed, theologians used different grounds from which to justify
their arguments. The most significant revision occurs with Thomas
Aquinas. With some modification, Thomas retains Augustine's three
criteria for just war, but he places them within a very different
framework, in which war belongs exclusively to the natural and
political, rather than supernatural, order.[25] For Thomas, three
principles lie at the heart of the political order-and so by
implication at the heart of just-war theory. First, political
authority and law do not exist merely because of human sinfulness,
but correspond to needs and purposes inherent in human nature
itself. Second, political authority is not in principle subordinate
to the authority of the church-specifically, it is the
responsibility of the state to "bear the sword." Third, temporal
power is fulfilled when it enables its citizens to lead the "good
life." Accordingly, in order to preserve the common good, the state
occasionally has to engage in war, but war should always governed
by reasonable behavior and by the state's obligations to its
citizens to protect their health and well-being. Therefore Thomas
uses the just-war criteria to regulate the state's actions
according to a general set of rules based on natural law or a
universal conception of human flourishing.[26] As a result, Thomas's
account of just war differs markedly from Augustine's. Augustine
views the political order as necessary but suspect, as a remedy to
the persistence of sin and as an accommodation to living "between
the times." In contrast, Thomas views the political order as
natural to human flourishing with its own set of internally
coherent rules. Therefore, Thomas's political thought does not
share Augustine's sense of ambiguity concerning the structures that
express human sociability and, by extension, those decisions that
are made by magistrates regarding war.
[31] Thomas's decision to place his account of just war within a
framework of natural law initiated a school of thought that argued
for just-war criteria on the basis of universalizable principles of
reason, which culminated in the secularization of just-war thinking
in theologians and philosophers such as Franciscus de Victoria,
Hugo Grotius, and, more recently, Michael
Walzer.[27] This
secularizing trend is not without important contributions,
particularly in terms of offering a more systematic development of
the just-war criteria into two sets: the first, ius ad bellum,
stipulate the requirements for going to war; the second, ius in
bello, stipulate the requirements for waging a war justly. These
requirements are now virtually definitive of the modern theory of
just war:
A. Ius ad bellum
1. Just cause: fundamental rights must be at stake, either
directly or indirectly.
2. Legitimate authority: a state may resort to war only if the
decision is made by proper authorities and made public both to that
state's citizens and to the enemy state.
3. Last resort: a state may declare war only after it has
exhausted all other plausible, peaceful alternatives to resolving a
given conflict.
4. Probability of success: a state may not resort to war if it
can foresee that doing so will have no measurable impact on the
situation.
5. Proportionality of ends: a state must weigh the
costs/benefits of engaging in war, in particular the casualties at
stake.
B. Ius in bello
1. Discrimination: soldiers are only entitled to target those
who are engaged in harm, and cannot attack noncombatants.
2. Proportionality of means: soldiers may only use force
proportional to the end they seek. Weapons of mass destruction, for
example, are outof the question.[28]Without question, the
twofold criteria offered in the modern theory overlap with some of
Augustine's thought on war. For example, while Augustine does not
spend a great deal of time on ius in bello considerations, those
identified easily follow from his argument that war be limited by
the obligationof neighbor-love.[29]
[32] Nonetheless, theologians and political philosophers have
sought to retrieve Augustine's account in order to engage
critically and modify the modern theory. Of these retrievals the
most influential are those of Paul Ramsey and Reinhold
Niebuhr.[30] Ramsey
argues that the essence of the Augustinian account of just war is
found in three ideas: the recognition of humanity's fallen nature
and "divided will," the immense distance between the God's eternal
justice and earthly attempts to approximate it, and the priority on
neighbor-love, specifically agape. Taken together, these ideas
challenge the adequacy of the natural law framework of modern
just-war theory. From the outset, "the just-war theory did not rest
on upon the supposition that men possess a general competence to
discriminate," by "means of clear universal principles of justice,"
whether "one side or social system" was "just and the others
unjust." Rather, it assumed that political communities, bound by a
common will rather than a commonwealth of reason, are incapable of
discerning the true nature of justice. Further, the pervasiveness
of human sin directly affects human capacities for love-we are
unable "to will entirely, and with a whole heart" because "the
truth is that, according to Augustine, fratricidal love and
brotherly love based on love of God are always commingled in
history." Consequently, Christians must recognize the extent to
which our attempts to find an "ultima ratio of war" are merely
rationalizations of our communal "agreements of will." An
Augustinian understanding of just war therefore does not assume
that we can reliably discern "the presence of justice" on "one
side, its absence on another," but allows the possibility that the
temporal justice that exists "may tragically be on both sides."
Further, rather than trying to generate the just-war criteria on
the basis of a universalizable vision of natural law or political
order, an Augustinian account of just war seeks to articulate a
"love-transformed justice," in which agape limits what Christians
may do when they resort to force. Specifically, agape challenges ad
bellum considerations by stipulating that the overriding concern in
war must be to protect our neighbors in need, and in bello
considerations by stipulating that noncombatants never be
harmed.[31]
[33] For Ramsey, war is therefore justifiably undertaken when it
is an act of Christian love on behalf of innocent fellow human
beings who are suffering unduly. "While Jesus taught that a
disciple in his own case should turn the other cheek," Ramsey
reasons, "he did not enjoin that his disciples should lift up the
face of another oppressed man for him to be struck again on his
other cheek." It is "no part of the work of charity to allow this
to continue to happen." Instead, "it is the work of love and mercy
to deliver as many of God's children from tyranny, and to protect
from oppression, if one can, as many of those for whom Christ died
as it may be possible to save."[32]
[34] Niebuhr's retrieval of Augustine is more measured,
disagreeing with some of Augustine's teaching on specific
doctrines, such as the transmission of sin, as well as his
characterizations of grace and love, which Niebuhr views as too wed
to Neoplatonism.[33]
Nevertheless, Niebuhr generally adopts an Augustinian stance. For
Niebuhr, humanity is caught between human freedom and finitude to
the extent that it is not possible to make a clear distinction
between human creativity and destructiveness simply because these
values are often expressed in the same action. The human person
"stands perpetually outside and beyond every social, natural,
communal and rational cohesion." This freedom makes for great
"creativity," but it also provides the temptation to use these
different communal spheres for selfish ends, and this is the source
of "destructiveness." Accordingly, Niebuhr views human nature as
inhabiting a "realm of infinite possibilities of good and evil
because of the character of human
freedom."[34] Human
persons are not totally depraved. A person can do evil only because
he or she has freedom, and freedom is the identifying mark of our
status as children of God, made in God's image. Human persons are,
however, at the same time morally discontinuous beings who are
internally divided, contradictory, and self-centered. Moreover,
when persons enter communal life, the only way that they can
cooperate effectively is through living according to a "collective
egoism" that denies their capacity to live for others.
[35] In every human group there is less reason to guide and to
check impulse, less capacity for self-transcendence, less ability
to comprehend the needs of others and therefore more unrestrained
egoism than the individuals who compose the groups reveal in their
interpersonal relationships.[35]
[36] In other words, sin in the form of inordinate self-love is
pervasive even in the best of communities.
[37] No matter how wide the perspectives which the human mind
may reach, how broad the loyalties which the human imagination may
conceive, how universal the community which human statecraft may
organize, or how pure the aspirations of the saintliest idealists
may be, there is no level of human moral or social achievement in
which there is not some corruption of inordinate self-love.
[36]
[38] Given this dialectical tension, Niebuhr argues that the
great achievement of Augustine is his doctrine of the two cities.
In his characterization of the earthly city as dominated by
self-love, Augustine is the "first great 'realist' in Western
history," offering an "account of the social factions, tensions,
and competitions which we know to be well-nigh universal on every
level of community."[37] At the
same time, by pairing his account of the civitas terrena with the
civitas dei, Augustine's realism does not degenerate into
pessimism. The city of God in Augustine's view, establishes the
ultimate ideal of the love of God that is universal in scope and
maintains prophetic distance between the kingdom of God and all
attempts to embody it on this earth. Christians must not deny
either aspect of the paradox but must recognize that they face a
"double task." The first is "to reduce the anarchy of the world to
some kind of immediately sufferable order and unity." The second is
"to set these tentative and insecure unities and achievements under
the criticism of the ultimate ideal." Therefore, "with Augustine,
we must realize that the peace of this world is gained by strife."
This does not "justify us either in rejecting such a tentative
peace or in accepting it as final." The "peace of the city of God
can use and transmute the lesser and insecure peace of the city of
the world; but that can be done only if the peace of the world is
not confused with the ultimatepeace of
God."[38]
[39] Niebuhr rejects pacifism, particularly as he finds it in
liberal Christianity. When "liberal Christianity defines the
doctrine of non-resistance, so that it becomes an injunction
against violence in conflict, it ceases to provide a perspective
from which the sinful element in all resistance, conflict, and
coercion may be discovered." It thus "prompts moral complacency
rather than contrition, and precisely in those groups in which the
evils which flow from self-assertion are most covert." That is to
say, the anthropology and political theology of pacifism is
insufficiently complex-it fails to respect the dialectical tension
inherent in our souls and in our societies. In addition, when
pacifism is the chosen position of many wealthy Christians, it
obscures the more subtle means through which these persons impose
their will-to-power through other less violent means. According to
Niebuhr, most pacifists in the liberal church are those who
minister to "social groups who have the economic power to be able
to dispense with more violent forms of coercion" and can afford to
"condemn" all violence as "un-Christian."
[40] For Niebuhr the central task in social ethics is to
advocate for a "balance of power" among the competing forces and
interests that are in tension in our communities. The allowance
that Augustine makes for the pilgrims of the heavenly kingdom to
make use of temporal justice becomes, in Niebuhr's hands,
permission to do whatever it takes to achieve this balance. He
argues, "if a season of violence can establish a just social system
and can create the possibilities of its preservation, there is no
purely ethical ground upon which violence and revolution can be
ruled out." Therefore a "responsible relationship to the political
order" makes "an unqualified disavowal of violence impossible."
Thus, there will always be crises in which "the cause of justice
will have to be defended against those who will attempt its violent
destruction."[39]
Toward an Augustinian Theory of Just War
[41] Though substantial, I believe that the retrievals offered
by Ramsey and Niebuhr are selective and that these do not do full
justice to the complexity of Augustine's thought on war. In
Ramsey's retrieval, war becomes less of a tragic necessity and more
of a positive good, as a duty or requirement of agape that in
generalis clearly known.[40]
Ramsey's characterization of the agape that should direct our
thinking is not defined in terms of intentionality, as it is for
Augustine, but in terms of a universal respect for persons. The
benefit of this shift is that Ramsey's account is less subject to
the possibilities of exploitation that we noted in Augustine's
original formulation. The liability incurred, however, is that
Ramsey's account owes less to Augustine and more to deontology,
which is Ramsey's favored system of ethics. Finally, Ramsey's
practical concerns focus on political doctrines such as containment
and nuclear deterrence, which were topics of great interest in the
historical context in which he developed his
retrieval.[41] I have not taken the
space to review these practical aspects of Ramsey's thought
because, now that the cold war is over, the issues we currently
face are different, and these must be taken into account in any
forthcoming retrieval of Augustinian just war.
[42] Where, however, Ramsey's retrieval threatens to make
straight the roads that Augustine intentionally paved crookedly,
Niebuhr's retrieval goes too far in emphasizing the ambiguity and
paradox of Augustine's doctrine of the two cities. The permission
Augustine grants to the citizens of the heavenly city to make use
of those institutions that ensure temporal peace becomes in
Niebuhr's hands blanket approval for any action as long as it
promotes the best outcome. Thus, if Ramsey forces Augustine into a
system of deontology, Niebuhr forces Augustine into a system of
consequentialism. Niebuhr disregards the criteria that Augustine
provided for testing whether or not one wages war justly. Niebuhr
writes that,
once we have . . . accepted coercion as a necessary
instrument of social cohesion, we can make no absolute distinctions
between nonviolent and violent types of coercion or between
coercion used by governments and that which is used by
revolutionaries. If such distinctions are made they must be
justified in terms of the consequences in which they
result.[42] Finally, of course, as
with Ramsey, the historical context of Niebuhr's engagement with
just-war theory determines in large part the practical issues that
he addresses. In addition to sharing Ramsey's concern with issues
attending the cold war, Niebuhr was also motivated by his
disappointment with the Social Gospel movement.[43] Here as well, Niebuhr
addresses topics that are not the same as those we currently
face.
Despite these shortcomings, Ramsey and Niebuhr provide important
insights concerning what shape an Augustinian account of just war
would have to take to be responsive to the theological,
philosophical, and cultural issues mentioned in my discussion of
pacifism. Here I will present in brief my own outline of what such
an account might look like.
[43] As we have seen, central to Augustine's thought on war is
an awareness of eschatology. The kingdom of God is both real and
not yet realized. Christians must take seriously the demands of
neighbor-love in the New Testament, but they must also realize the
extent to which the paradoxical tension of "real and not yet
realized" dictates our embodiment of Christ's neighbor-love. While
recognizing that our fundamental identity rests on the kingdom of
God in its fullness, our deliberation and action are still
conditioned by the fallen created order that we inhabit. This
means, however, that we regrettably still find ourselves in
situations in which force is necessary to respond to threats that
are both internal and external to our society. The regret that
accompanies the use of force is not an expression of sentimentality
but reflects the fact that each of us shares in the responsibility
for coercion, even if force is delegated to the particular offices
of law enforcement or the military. It also reflects our awareness
that human sinfulness compromises our basic judgments about right
and wrong, and to this extent ambiguity always attends our
decisions regarding war. Moreover, the vision of the heavenly city
places eschatological pressure on the institutions we use to
maintain temporal peace. Christians are called not only to help
maintain the social order but to work to transform it through
making its institutions more equitable and fair-in other words,
just. Therefore the just-war criteria test the extent to which a
war serves the end of preserving peace or simply extends the
national interest in domination. The criteria apply to the national
justifications for acts of war, and in this capacity they provide a
common moral vocabulary that enables discussion over the merits of
a given proposed conflict. In other words, they also provide a way
for individual soldiers to test their own consciences regarding the
ethics of a given war. Throughout the application of the criteria,
some basic guidelines apply: If an act of war does not express
neighbor-love in terms of protecting the innocent, the vulnerable,
or the powerless, then there are good reasons to believe that the
war cannot be justified, even within the broad categories of
justification allowed by Augustine. Those justifications of war
that initiate a conflict under the categories of intervention or
preemptive attacks would be subject to the strictest scrutiny.
Finally, when a war is deemed both unavoidable and justified, the
just-war criteria establishes parameters for how that war is to be
humanely waged.
[44] Within this overarching eschatological vision, the church's
role is to recognize the extent to which it must live with the same
gifts and burdens as other human institutions. Relationships within
the church are characterized by love and kindness as well as
selfishness and cruelty. Nonetheless, though the church is always
morally compromised, Christ has established it as the vehicle for
God's salvation of the world. The church is therefore called to
cultivate a love-shaped ethic in order to live as faithfully as it
can after the vision of the heavenly city. This means that the
church must engage in proclamation as well as self-criticism-a
repentant people who know their own sinful propensities but who
hope and work for the renewal of all things in Christ. In its
political theology this witness takes the form of respecting the
pluralities that exist, both religious and cultural, throughout the
world. Such a stance is required of those who are called to love
their neighbors. The church is therefore wary of any attempts by
the state to establish its own totalizing vision of justice or
peace-its own "new world order." Such visions destroy the
particularities of our neighbors by forcing them into a
monoculture, and these ambitions have historically resulted in
regimes noted for their hubris andbrutality.[44] Consequently, the church
must hold the state accountable by the standards of the heavenly
city. When the topic is the legitimacy of coercion, the church
critically engages the state through the just-war criteria.
Application of just-war criteria is not a simple task of placing a
template over a particular set of circumstances, given the extent
to which sin affects our judgments of right and wrong. As such,
using the criteria is a virtue that is developed over time by
thoughtful consideration of the different justifications for the
use of force, all the while recognizing our own fallibility.
Therefore it is imperative for clergy and laity to be familiar with
the criteria in order for the church to engage in these wider
discussions. Finally, the church has a prophetic role to play even
when a given war is acknowledged as necessary-the church is called
to pray for the state's enemies as well as for the state, and to
work for reconciliation.
[45] This eschatological and ecclesial framework makes possible
an account of just war that is sensitive to some of the concerns
expressed by postmodernism noted earlier. The particular narratives
of the Christian faith determine its overall vision as well as its
employment of just-war criteria. At the same time, while the
Christian narrative provides the basis for any ultimate
justification for the just-war criteria, its insights and values
are intelligible to others who do not share this narrative. In
other words, just-war criteria are not entirely a matter of social
construction but identify truths that are essential to our basic
humanity, even if every culture and religion does not agree on
every aspect.[45] Such agreement is evident
in the overlap noted earlier between Augustinian and secular
approaches to just war.
[46] Finally, the eschatological and ecclesial framework
provides an important check on the pervasiveness of secularism in
our liberal society. An Augustinian account of just war allows that
there is an important distinction between the spheres of church and
state, but at the same time, while distinct, these spheres are not
completely separated. There are citizens of the heavenly city in
both spheres, as well as citizens of the earthly city. Nonetheless,
one of the ways in which the church expresses its distinctive moral
vision is through its prophetic engagement with a wider society in
terms of the legitimacy of the use of force. As we have seen,
essential to such a witness is the recognition that any claim of
justice in modern just-war theory is at best a relative claim that
must be challenged and occasionally rebuked. From the Augustinian
perspective, no one can claim absolute righteousness in any action,
particularly when that action entails bloodshed. To this extent the
term "just war" can be misleading if, by justice, it means that one
party stands firmly in the right and another in the wrong. Rather,
in the Augustinian account, wars are only "justified" given a
specific set of circumstances and in light of the exigencies of
living "between the times." War, in others words, is always a cause
for lamentation, and even when a particular war is justified, our
consciences are never clear but at best comforted.
Concluding Remarks
[47] Admittedly, the Augustinian account of just war that I have
sketched in this essay is not free of the potential for abuse. As
we have seen, Augustine's account does not exclude the possibility
of manipulation and deceit. In addition, one of the risks inherent
in the Augustinian account is that it becomes so focused on the
theological justifications for war that one is tempted merely to
accept without further qualification the criteria established in
secular theory. When this is the case, the Augustinian account does
little more than "baptize" commonly held beliefs. In addition to
these shortcomings, the Augustinian account that I have sketched
does not address particular ethical issues that we currently face.
Humanitarian intervention, preemptive attacks, noncombatant
immunity, nuclear proliferation, and stateless terrorism are merely
the more pressing issues that an extended retrieval of Augustine
will need to engage and treat at length.
[48] I hope I have shown, however, that an Augustinian account
of just war does have a great deal of explanatory power-at least as
much, if not more, than pacifism. Although there are good reasons
for continuing the tradition of pacifism in the church, we will
lose a great deal if our witness becomes one-sided. As Michael
Walzer argues, war is a moral activity-moral arguments accompany
both its initiation and its conduct, and these arguments can
therefore be tested and found either sufficient or
wanting.[46] If the church refrains
from entering this discussion, its appeals for peace, however
heartfelt, will be misunderstood, dismissed, or ignored.
© June 2003
Journal of Lutheran Ethics (JLE)
Volume 3, Issue 6
[1] Menno Simons, Foundations of
Christian Doctrine in The Complete Writings of Menno Simons,
c.1496-1561, ed. John C. Wenger, trans. Leonard Verduin (Scottdale,
Pa.: Herald, 1955), 108. Quoted from Cahill, Love Your Enemies,
164. For more on Anabaptist attitudes toward violence, see Roland
H. Bainton, Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace: A Historical
Survey and Critical Re-evaluation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990),
152-65.
[2] Menno Simons, Foundations of
Christian Doctrine in The Complete Writings of Menno Simons,
c.1496-1561, ed. John C. Wenger, trans. Leonard Verduin (Scottdale,
Pa.: Herald, 1955), 108. Quoted from Cahill, Love Your Enemies,
164. For more on Anabaptist attitudes toward violence, see Roland
H. Bainton, Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace: A Historical
Survey and Critical Re-evaluation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990),
152-65.
[3] John Howard Yoder, The Politics of
Jesus: vicit Agus noster (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle, U.K.:
Paternoster, 1994), 96.
[4] John Howard Yoder, Nevertheless: A
Meditation on the Varieties and Shortcomings of Religious Pacifism
(Scottdale, Pa.: Herald, 1971), 132.
[5] Obviously, the description I offer
here cannot account for the many versions of postmodernism at work
in the current marketplace of ideas. Nonetheless, I believe I have
given an adequate account of its broad insights, particularly with
regard to the relevance postmodernism has for pacifism. For more on
postmodernism and ethics, see Zygmunt Bauman, Postmodern Ethics
(Oxford, U.K., and Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1999). See also
Gene Outka, "The Particularist Turn in Theological and
Philosophical Ethics" in Christian Ethics: Problems and Prospects,
ed. Lisa Sowle Cahill and James F. Childress (Cleveland: Pilgrim,
1996).
[6] Stanley Hauerwas, The Peaceable
Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 1983), 7-12.
[7] Hauerwas, The Peaceable Kingdom,
102, 47, 97, 87, 94, 99.
[8] Wolfhart Pannenberg, "How to Think
About Secularism," First Things 64 (June/July 1996): 29. For two
influential studies of secularism, see also Stephen Carter, The
Culture of Disbelief: How American Law and Politics Trivialize
Religious Devotion (New York: Basic Books, 1993); and Richard John
Neuhaus, The Naked Public Square: Religion and Democracy in America
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984).
[9] Hauerwas, Peaceable Kingdom,
102.
[10] Here I draw from Raymond E.
Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament (New York: Doubleday,
1997), 178-79.
[11] Joachim Jeremias, The Sermon on
the Mount, trans. Norman Perrin, Facet Biblical Series 2
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1963), 1-12. As Cahill notes, Jeremias is
representative of even more intricate and complex schemas of
interpretation in the critical literature. See Cahill, Love Your
Enemies, 27-28; and in conversation with my colleague, Christopher
Bryan, professor of New Testament at Sewanee.
[12] Thus Richard Hays interprets the
Sermon on the Mount from the perspective of the "focal images" of
"cross, community, and new creation." These "focal images,"
however, determine in advance the interpretation Hays will find
most plausible. For as Hays makes clear, one image that he lays to
the side is that of "love," which he believes "cannot serve as a
focal image for the synthetic task of New Testament ethics." As we
will see, love is precisely the hermeneutical lens that Augustine
uses to argue for just war. See Hays, The Moral Vision of New
Testament: Community, Cross, New Creation: A Contemporary
Introduction to New Testament Ethics (San Francisco: HarperCollins,
1996 ), 198-203; 317-44. It is interesting to note that the forms
of just war that Hays discusses depart significantly from the
just-war tradition. See Hays, 216-36. Compare
Hays&=javascript:goNote(39s interpretation of the "Sermon on
the Mount" with that of Allen Verhey in Remembering Jesus:
Christian Community, Scripture, and the Moral Life (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2002), 413-18.
[13] This connection between
conceptions of justice and justifications for coercion is noted by
Hauerwas. "Once 'justice&=javascript:goNote(39 is made a
criterion of Christian social strategy, it can too easily take on
meaning and life of its own that is not informed by the Christian's
fundamental convictions. It can, for example, be used to justify
the Christian's resort to violence to secure a more 'relative
justice.'" See Hauerwas, Peaceable Kingdom, 112-13.
[14] See Augustine, Contra Faustum,
XXII, 74, in The Political Writings, ed. Henry Paolucci
(Washington, D.C.: H. Regnery, 1962), 164; Martin Luther, Temporal
Authority: To What Extent It Should Be Obeyed, in Martin
Luther&=javascript:goNote(39s Basic Theological Writings, ed.
Timothy F. Lull (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 655-703; John
Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 2 vols., ed. John T.
McNeill and Ford L. Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960),
4.20.1-31.
[15] The following works on Augustine
have provided important background for my reflections: William R.
Stevenson Jr., Christian Love and Just War: Moral Paradox and
Political Life in St. Augustine and His Modern Interpreters (Macon,
Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1987); Herbert A. Deane, The
Political and Social Ideas of St. Augustine (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1963); and Carol Harrison, Augustine: Christian
Truth and Fractured Humanity (Oxford and New York: Oxford
University Press, 2000).
[16] Augustine, Homilies on the First
Epistle of John 7.7, quoted from Robert L. Holmes, "St. Augustine
and the Just War Theory," in The Augustinian Tradition, ed. Gareth
B. Matthews (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 325.
As I will argue, I see Augustine&=javascript:goNote(39s
ambiguity regarding motivation and intention as less fatal to his
just-war thought than Holmes does.
[17] Augustine, Homilies on the First
Epistle of John 8.9, quoted from Holmes, "St. Augustine and the
Just War Theory," 327.
[18] Contra Faustum, XXII, 74-76, in
Paolucci, ed., Political Writings, 164-65.
[19] Augustine, The City of God,
trans. M. Dods, in A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene
Fathers of the Christian Church: Vol. II, ed. Philip Schaff (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), XIV.28, 282.
[20] Augustine, City of God, XIX.12,
407.
[21] Here I draw from Stevenson,
Christian Love and Just War, 16-17; and Deane, The Political and
Social Ideas of St. Augustine, 28-38.
[22] Augustine, City of God, XIX.17,
412-13.
[23] Augustine, Homilies on the First
Epistle of John 8.9, 138.2.15, quoted from Stevenson, Christian
Love and Just War, 113.
[24] Augustine, Homilies on the First
Epistle of John 8.9, 189.6 and 209.2; Quaest. Hept., 6.10;
Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John 8.9, 47.5, quoted
from Bainton, Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace, 95-96.
[25] See Bainton, Christian Attitudes
toward War and Peace, 108.
[26] See Cahill, Love Your Enemies,
84.
[27] See Paul Christopher, The Ethics
of War and Peace: An Introduction to Legal and Moral Issues, 2nd
ed. (Upper Saddle River, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1999), 47-103;
Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars: A Moral Argument with
Historical Illustrations, 3rd ed. (New York: Basic Books, 1977);
John Finnis, "The Ethics of War and Peace in the Catholic Natural
Law Tradition," and Jospeh Boyle, "Just War Thinking in Catholic
Natural Law," in The Ethics of War and Peace: Religious and Secular
Perspectives, ed. Terry Nardin (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1996), 15-53.
[28] With some modification and
differences in emphasis, the criteria that I offer here can be
found in most standard theories on just war. See, for example,
Brian D. Orend, "War," Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, at http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/war.
[29] See Paul Ramsey, War and the
Christian Conscience: How Shall Modern War Be Conducted Justly?
(Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1961), 34-59.
[30] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[31] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[32] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[33] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[34] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[35] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[36] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[37] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[38] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[39] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[40] This point is
Stevenson&=javascript:goNote(39s; see Christian Love and Just
War, 126. Stevenson overlooks, however, the extent to which
Ramsey's and Niebuhr's retrievals of Augustine are conditioned by
their respective commitments to deontology and
consequentialism.
[41] See Ramsey, The Just War,
passim.
[42] Niebuhr, Moral Man and Immoral
Society, 179-80.
[43] See Robin W. Lovin, Reinhold
Niebuhr and Christian Realism (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge
University Press, 1995), 235-48.
[44] Here I draw from Jean Bethke
Elshtain, "Just War and Humanitarian Intervention," American
University International Law Review 17:1 (2001), published online
at http://www.nhc.rtp.nc.us/ideasv82/elshtain.htm.
[45] Here I am thinking in particular
of the in bello consideration of noncombatant immunity, which
Islamic ethics of war do not recognize. Such an exercise in
comparative ethics would be essential to a fuller description of
the Augustinian just-war theory than I can present in this essay.
For more on the understanding of war in Islam, see John Kelsay,
Islam and War: A Study in Comparative Ethics (Louisville:
Westminster John Knox, 1993), 57-76.
[46] Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars,
passim.