The
Vatican is holding its first ever conference to evaluate its long-held doctrine
on just war theory. Articles are here and here. First described by St.
Augustine in the 5th century, just war theory has long been controversial. It
describes circumstances whereby the Church can morally sanction some violence
and war. While its focus in recent years is primarily on self-defense, many
have treated it as a blanket endorsement for political states to make decisions
at whim about going to war.
I
applaud efforts to take a deeper look at whether some forms of violence, up to
and including war, can be justifiable from the standpoint of the Revelation of
Christ. You will not find me shedding any tears if we find a more positive,
peace affirming framework.
That
being said, I can't help but wonder if we would not be—pardon the
expression—jumping the gun if we were to abandon just war theory.
It
feels like breaking up with a girlfriend before we have ever really gotten to
know her in the first place.
***
When
I read closely the conditions whereby violence could be allowable under just
war theory, I actually find a very pro-peace doctrine. You simply cannot meet
the conditions otherwise. It takes a little bit of prayerful meditation to see
this, but it does not require any theological slight-of-hand tricks. It is
simply a matter of taking the conditions seriously and asking what must be done
in order to meet them. The demands it asks of us are not easy, but the logic
itself is straightforward.
To
meet these conditions, individuals and nations must be active and engaged in
the cause of peace. According to just war theory, violence is only an option as
a last resort to protect the common good (#2263). It is entirely subsumed under
the moral framework of self-defense. In this regard, it is very similar to the
theology of the death penalty.
I
will not do an exhaustive text study here, but here is a sampling of lines
straight out of the Catechism:
• All
citizens and all governments are obliged to work for the avoidance of war (#2308).
• Peace
is not merely the absence of war (#2304).
• Peace
cannot be attained on earth without safeguarding the goods of persons, free
communication among men, respect for the dignity of persons and peoples, and
the assiduous practice of fraternity (#2304).
• Peace
is the work of justice and the effect of charity (#2304).
• Injustice,
excessive economic or social inequalities, envy, distrust, and pride raging
among men and nations constantly threaten peace and cause wars. Everything done
to overcome these disorders contributes to building up peace and avoiding
war (#2317).
If
violence is determined to be necessary to protect the common good, there are
very stringent criteria to limit the scope and evaluate the aims of said
violence (#2309).
All
this is to avoid committing the mortal sin of murder, i.e. breaking the 5th
commandment. Given the dignity of life and care for the land, the goal is to do the minimum violence necessary to protect the
common good and nothing more.
The above offers a rich call-to-action for justice and peace. Perhaps it's not the most imaginative or daring pathway to peace, but in a ramshackle sort of way, it promises to get us there. However, the Church and churchgoers
often treat it like decorative wallpaper. It's as if those composing it were just waxing
poetic about peace in the abstract. It's as if it came with an unspoken, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, nobody is expecting us to actually take this seriously. The demands of peace as spelled out here get very
little attention in Sunday homilies.
To
the contrary, these are serious statements that demand concrete actions. In
fact, to come anywhere close to meeting these conditions, society would have to
undergo a near-total overhaul. It is not just about violence, but also poverty,
human rights, respect for the land and a bubbling-over infrastructure of
harmony among all. These statements reject passivity and instead call us
to be active and proactive for the cause of peace.
If
we are to tackle such endemic sins as pride, economic injustice and social
inequality—and if "peace cannot be attained" without the litany of
terms presented above—then this is no side task to schedule between brunch and
golf on a Saturday afternoon. From the level of individuals to governments, we
are all called to lifelong, continual efforts not just to avoid war and
violence, but to create the conditions for peace.
Before
violence can be a last resort, all other efforts must be tried thoroughly and
repeatedly. That's simply what it means to be a "last resort"—by
definition.
***
Yet,
we have named a doctrine by its option-of-last-resort.
Let's
say I'm hungry. I plan to eat after work. There is meatloaf in the fridge at
home. If it is spoiled, there is also some leftover fish. If that is also no
good, I could visit one of a dozen restaurants down the street. If I cannot
find any money, if each of my credit cards is declined or if all the
restaurants are closed by the time I get off work, I could, as a last resort,
simply fast for the evening and make plans to eat tomorrow. Taken together, I
would not call this my "evening fasting plan." No, this is my
"evening eating plan." If all else were to fail, I may have no other
choice but to fast—but make no mistake, my plan is to eat, and there is a
plethora of options available to make that happen. Fasting is highly unlikely
and hardly worth mentioning, but it could, theoretically, happen.
So
by a similar token, why is our "peace plan" called the "war
plan?" It's misleading at best and contradictory at worst. Putting that
much attention on the option-of-last-resort does not express much faith in the
primary goal, which is the attainment of peace.
It
is not surprising that just war theory has been so poorly understood, because
it is quite simply poorly named. It vaguely pairs the word "just"
alongside "war." It is not helpful to be so ambiguous on a topic that
is so grave.
It
might make sense to a theologian to start with the exception and work backwards
to discover that this doctrine, which outlines the conditions whereby war could
potentially be justified, is really about peace. Like I said before, it does
not take extensive theologizing to get there.
Unfortunately,
however, what I have often witnessed is that people hear the term “just war”
and do some mental gymnastics along the following lines, saying:
‘Just
War’ means the Church has implicitly justified war itself, is opting out of any
and all decision-making as to the morality of any specific war and leaves all
considerations entirely to the discretion of the political state. The Church
therefore promises to turn a blind eye and not intervene while the state does
what it wishes.
That
is absolutely absurd. While it may be the role of the state to ultimately make
the decision to go to war or not, to think that the Church should not weigh in
on matters of life and death and advise on the morality of a war is
unthinkable. Yet, turning a blind eye is exactly what many demand of the Church
in light of just war theory. It is unconscionable that the Church would simply
abandon its prophetic voice, shrugging its proverbial shoulders, resigning
itself to the notion that war is simply the "state's decision."
Just
war does not mean that all war is justified and that the Church washes its
hands of any critical feedback for the decisions of a political state to enter
into a war. It simply means that the Church holds for a legitimate right to
self defense that could include violence as a last resort.
The
"just war" name sounds like a marketing trick right out of the Karl
Rove playbook. It's reminiscent of "right to work" laws, which have
virtually nothing to do with the lofty ideals of "work" and
"rights." "Just war" comes across like a blank check for
war, but if you read the fine print, there is hardly any conflict that could
possibly meet its conditions. In the confusion, the Church is locked in an
analysis paralysis, rendering itself ineffective at being a prophetic voice to
the state. In my more cynical moments, I sometimes wonder whether this
confusion was in the plan all along.
***
Imagine
archeologists from the future figuring out how to fly a 20th century airplane
having only discovered a small portion of the instruction manual for
guidance—the section on how to parachute out of a failed flight. They could
piece together what the plane was supposed to do by taking the emergency exit
instructions and working backwards from there: If we parachute when X, Y and Z
are failing, then we can deduce that X, Y and Z need to be operational, even
though it is unclear from this portion of the manual how to make that happen.
This
is the problem we run into by building a theology of peace out of just war
theory. "Just war" is the failsafe when all else has fallen short. We
need to be much more explicit about what we mean by "all else." Just war is not cut out to be our entire peace plan but rather just an addendum.
Differently
said: I would drop out of flight school if the instruction manual were entitled
"Just Parachuting." Likewise, it's hard to take the Church's mission
of peace seriously when the textbook has the words "Just War" on the
cover.
***
War
and violence sound like terrible things the Church has no business getting
involved in, but there is a fundamental moral question in play: Is violence
ever an allowable option or does the Christian call require total nonviolence
in all circumstances? Will some violence end up reducing the total amount of
violence? Just war theory takes the sobering view that violence will be almost impossible to avoid in this broken world.
The difference between just war theory and total pacifism is slim. It is a scandal that
this remains an untold story of Catholic theology.
Both approaches requires a tireless pursuit of peace. The only difference is that one side will allow
violence as an absolute last resort while the other will not. In either case,
both sides should look virtually identical to the casual observer, as they
would be spending the overwhelming majority of their attention on fostering
peace.
I
would like to think that the question of violence is something that people of
goodwill can struggle with. I hope so, because I struggle with it myself. What
draws me to consider total nonviolence is that many of the greatest spiritual
leaders throughout history—in the tradition of Gandhi, Dorothy Day, Martin
Luther King, Jr., St. Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena, or even, dare we
say, Jesus of Nazareth—have opted for it. Also included are many in the
Anabaptist and Catholic Worker movements who have personally shared with me
jaw-dropping stories of their commitment to nonviolence. Still, I am not there,
yet.
As
food for further discussion, I am willing to consider that maybe the difference
is not so slim—maybe there is a Grand Canyon-sized gap between total
nonviolence and violence as a last resort. Maybe the latter, even by opening the door to violence just a little, misses the Way of Jesus by a long shot. Perhaps that is why just war theory has not been able to be the vehicle for peace that it promises to be on paper. That is a discussion for another time,
but it is worth at least suggesting it here.
***
We
seem to focus almost all of our entire theological attention on whether or not
violence can be justified in some situations and very little attention on the
overwhelming Christian duty to create conditions where war and violence either
cannot exist or are avoided when they do. This involves a serious change in
culture, adoption of preventative measures and fostering the well-being of the
people and land.
All
too often, theological debate around just war theory centers around the
tactical considerations when a nation is on the brink of war. There is far too
little discussion about what it means to promote peace and avoid war in a
long-term, proactive way. That’s the piece we almost completely ignore when we
talk about just war theory. Just war is not something to bring out of the
closet when an enemy army is marching on our gates, but rather its mandate for
a lifestyle of peace is something to consider each day.
In
order to take just war theory seriously, we must promote peace vigorously and
support the economic initiatives, human rights and fraternal harmony necessary
for the avoidance of war. Just because there is a slim allowance of some
violence as a complete and total last resort does not mean that Church just
throws up its hands and turns a blind eye to all state-sponsored decisions for
violence. That is a logical fallacy that is all too often the narrative around
just war theory.
***
Perhaps
Pope Francis said it best:
A
person who thinks only of building walls, wherever they may be—and not
bridges—is not a Christian.
Yes,
there may be a time for a wall. Perhaps we can find ourselves so backed into a corner that
a literal or metaphorical wall is the only legitimate response to a given situation.
Nevertheless, I will never be convinced of the need for a wall until
substantial efforts have first been made to build a bridge.
Just
substitute “waging wars/peace” for “building walls/bridges” and the same
applies. Whether you are against all wars or whether you concede some allowance
for them, make no mistake—the Christian life is one of fostering peace. The
debate about limited violence vs. total nonviolence is important, but let's not
allow that to obfuscate this more unifying point.
***
Keeping
war and violence as last resort options is based on the assumption that
nonviolent means of self defense will not be as effective as violent ones.
Given the stunning success of movements for peace around the globe in the past
century, it is worth asking whether we could ever exhaust the potential for
nonviolent means of solving conflicts. Furthermore, given the immensely
destructive capabilities of modern military systems, we should also consider
whether the violence of modern war could ever be restrained enough to meet the
stringent requirements of just war theory. In other words, a "just
war" may be as mythical as a unicorn, a purely theoretical construct but
not something we are ever going to see in real life.
***
The
question may not be whether just war theory is wrong but whether it has ever
been taken seriously in the first place. I am lead
to a robust vision of the peaceable kingdom the deeper I delve into it. But given the way it has been used and misused
to justify all sorts of violence, as well as it's extremely indirect—or
downright misleading—name, perhaps it is long overdue for a rebranding.
So
maybe breaking up with just war theory is a good idea. Perhaps she is not so
bad after all, and it may be a shame we never saw her full potential, but let's face it:
If we don't know her after 1,500 years, perhaps we never will.
by Julie Gerver, guest blogger.
