J. Daryl Charles
Associate professor of ethics & culture, Union University

 Violence, Force and Civil Society: Moderating Influences of the Just-War Tradition 

The Philadelphia Society
National Meeting
Sheraton Society Hill Hotel
March 31-April 2, 2006

Yesterday at this time I was participating in a similar panel discussion, at a large state university in Ohio, which shall go unnamed and which hosted a conference with the theme “Religion and Violence.” Sponsored by the University’s Contemporary History Institute, the conference was constituted by three in-depth panel discussions dedicated to the following three topics: the violent impulse in religion, peacemaking, and “just-war” debate. 

As one of several invited speakers, I went to the conference not expecting that I would be in the company of like-minded or sympathetic people. This indeed proved to be true. And you could probably write the script. The culprits behind religion and violence in the world, alas, were not Islamofascists, who in Iraq and Afghanistan have systematically suppressed and tortured 50 million people in recent history and who, covenantally, are unswervingly committed to the obliteration of Jews in the Middle East, nor were they Islamo-anarchists who on several continents have been carrying out mass-murder of innocents since the early 90s. No, as you might well guess, the chief violators of human rights who truly threaten the world are….George Bush and Condolezza Rice – and, of course, the Pentagon – all of whom conspire not only to remove from us our civil liberties but who are bent on the destruction of the world. To conclude, Stanley Hauerwas, the celebrated Christian ethicist from Duke, declared by Time magazine in 2001 to be the most influential American theologian of our day, delivered the keynote denunciation of American imperialism. 

The essence of my remarks yesterday was to reiterate both the timeliness and timeless of just-war moral reasoning as it effects not only public policy but also civil society. My own interest in this realm, aside from teaching religion and ethics in university liberal arts context, derives from two sources: having done policy analysis in criminal justice during the 1990s and my current research interest, which is the historical development of the just-war tradition and its applicability to the problem of terrorism. 

My basic operating assumptions are these:

• One must make a fundamental distinction between force and violence. I find John Courtney Murray’s basic distinction both helpful and necessary. “Force,” Murray writes, “is the measure of power necessary and sufficient to uphold…law and politics. What exceeds this measure is violence, which destroys the order of both law and politics… As an instrument, force is morally neutral in itself.”[1]
• I further assume what Reinhold Niebuhr called a “Christian realism” about human nature. That is to say, humans possess both a dignity and depravity, based on moral agency. The latter of these realities necessarily implies the existence of moral evil, even when contemporary Western culture is embarrassed to name evil. Acknowledging moral evil, I am fully aware, is exceedingly difficult for “postmodern” culture, which refuses to make moral judgments of any sort. The question that moral relativists must face is not only whether we should resist Hitler, Idi Amin, Pol Pot, Milosevich, and company but also the Jeffrey Dahmers and Timothy McVeighs of the world, as well as the violent criminals in our neighborhoods and cities. Either there is a universal, non-fluid standard of justice, as Aristotle maintained, or there is not. If not, then Rwanda and Bosnia-Kosovo are merely differences of opinion. One man’s mugging or murder is simply another man’s good time.
• Therefore, with Hugo Grotius, the “father of international law,” we must never say that everything is always permissible, nor that nothing is ever permissible. There are times when morally-guided force may be necessary in a world that exhibits moral evil. We need not embrace either moral skepticism or abdication and withdrawal, neither triumphalism nor quietism.
• Therefore, we must work for a justly-ordered peace, what Augustine called the tranquillitas ordinis. What Augustine meant was simply this: peace is not merely the absence of conflict; rather, it must be justly ordered. Otherwise, a “peace” can subsist and be maintained by Mafia-like management, for even among criminals there exists an atmosphere of peaceful co-existence.
• Therefore, given the fact that peace must be justly ordered, force is both permitted and limited. Law-enforcement officers demonstrate both of these on a daily basis. As do most parents. We neither cut off the hands of children who steal cookies, neither do we slap on the back of the wrist those who murder and rape. At least, we should not.
• Therefore, we will need to affirm what ethicist Paul Ramsey called a “preferential ethics of protection” on behalf of the innocent third party when moral evil occurs. We are not permitted to be bystanders when moral evil befalls innocent persons; charity requires that we come to their defense. This applies to neighbors and to neighbor-nations, when we have the means to prevent a greater evil.
• Therefore, force can serve moral purposes, as the entire criminal justice system, even in its fallible state, illustrates. Augustine, correctly, noted that out of charity we prevent evildoers from carrying through their acts. This is for their best as well as for society’s. Aquinas, indeed the mainstream of the Christian moral tradition, agrees.

In recent years I am particularly nourished by the writings of one public intellectual who has done much to encourage people of religious faith toward responsible citizenship. I refer to Jean Bethke Elshtain, who teaches political ethics at the U. of Chicago. An Augustinian scholar, Elshtain has dedicated much of her scholarly work to investigating the foundations of civil society. What makes good citizens? What constitutes civil society? Why is religious faith so important to democratic pluralism? What happens when people no longer can engage in moral discourse? And why is it unacceptable when people of religious conviction abdicate the public square? 

In describing responsible citizenship, Elshtain has coined the striking expression “chastened patriotism.”[2] Thereby she stands in the Augustinian tradition and wishes to accent both attachment and detachment. That is, having learned from the past and being cognizant of human nature, “chastened patriots” are “necessarily poised between unacceptable alternatives on either side.” They are poised between an unreflective nationalism that diminishes our duties and loyalties to others, on the one hand, and an unwillingness to defend our innocent neighbor, or a neighbor-state, being oppressed and standing in great need, on the other hand. 

With the end of the Cold War a decade and a half ago, most people – from the average layperson to the policy-maker – thought the question of military force to lack urgency. Yet, I would argue, it is precisely those developments since then that call forth the need for reexamining the merits and moral substructure of armed conflict. Consider within this brief period, for example, Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait and genocidal treatment of its own people, notably the Kurds; the starvation of civilians in Somalia; exile and enslavement of both Christians and non-Sharia Muslims in Sudan; the slaughter of roughly 800,000-900,00 people in Rwanda; genocide in Bosnia and Kosovo; the need for massive relief efforts in Burundi, Rwanda, Liberia, Sudan, and Afghanistan; the production of chemical and biological weapons in Libya and Iraq (not to mention developments in Iran); the talibanization of parts of the Middle East, Africa and SE Asia; the breathtaking rise of maturing international terrorism worldwide; and drug-trafficking in several continents. These diverse crises, regardless of one’s political sympathies, force laypeople, educators, politicians and policy-makers alike to reflect on the morality of war, the use of force, and military intervention. How will we adjudicate matters of gross injustice? Egregious human rights violations? Social-political evil? 

Just-war thinking, classically understood, approaches the human condition with a certain realism, which is a necessary starting-point for any responsible attempt at policy, both domestic and foreign. That is, just-war reasoning simultaneously chastens Realpolitik, or militarism, with its disdain for any moral reasoning whatsoever, and its religious equivalent, the jihadic and crusading spirit; but it also chastens the pacifist-isolationist impulse, which refuses to intervene and resist social-political evil in practical terms. The classic just-war position understands itself to mediate between two opposing poles – between the unwillingness to make moral judgments, on the one hand, and the unwillingness to express moral judgments through practical and forceful resistance for the purpose of an ordered peace. 

The very moral principles that inform the just-war tradition, to the surprise of some, also undergird generic criminal justice. For example, on the same basis both distinguish between aggressor and victim, between unjust and just behavior, and between the criminal and the punitive act. Without these fundamental distinctions, in any policy realm, there is no such thing as “civil society,” and crime -- whether intranational or international -- can proceed unabated, with no justly ordered peace. 

As with criminal justice, the classic just-war position, far from being a contradiction of the Christian primacy of peace, is mediatory on the question of force. That is, it represents a moderating position between the poles of crusade, jihad or militarism on the one hand and pacifism on the other, as clarified by its fundamental assumptions. What are these assumptions?

• Evil exists and must be resisted in the present life, even when it subsists in a mix of cultural and religious factors that might entail political, diplomatic, economic as well as military responses for their containment.
• Further, there is a peace that can be immoral if and where it leaves the innocent unprotected. Hence, peace is not merely the absence of conflict.
• Further, the natural moral law, by which all human beings intuitively recognize the good and avoid evil (so Aquinas), is applicable to all peoples in all eras. It is expressed in the golden rule of Plato and Jesus, in the contours of the Ten Commandments, in what the framers called “self-evident truths,” and in what C.S. Lewis called the Tao. In the words of one public philosopher, it is what we can’t not know.[3]
• Further, just-war teaching, like criminal justice, begins not with a presumption or bias against force per se but against injustice. It measures the use and application of force, and this measure is always proportionate to the crime. But its basic presumption is not against force per se but against injustice and evil. Charity, thus, can express itself in the forceful protection of one’s neighbor.
• Therefore, because charity has as its goal the highest good for all people, whether perpetrators or victims, criminal justice and armed conflict can be undertaken in conformity with the demands of charity, justice and human dignity, since its seeks to protect the innocent third party from gross injustice and social evil.

Such are the assumptions of both criminal justice and just-war reasoning. 

Mainstream moral thinkers through the ages address a recurring objection among religious people regarding force and armed conflict. Ambrose, Augustine, Aquinas, Luther, Calvin, Suarez and Grotius, for example, all respond to the common objection that coercive force is incompatible with the teaching of Jesus and Christian charity. Significantly, each one of these thinkers traces the standard objection to a misunderstanding of the words from the Sermon on the Mount “don’t resist evil” and “turn the other cheek.” Aquinas, especially, in the Summa (II-II Q. 40), is at pains to show that force per se is not a category of injustice but rather is necessary to the civic peace. He distinguishes between private responses to abuse and delegated authority’s obligation to protect the public. The Sermon on the Mount concerns the former -- personal abuse; it is not to be read as a public-policy prescription. 

Paul Ramsey, one of the few ethicists to make this interpretive distinction, observes that part of our difficulty is that we have distorted the meaning of Jesus’ teaching. He reminds us that Jesus’ directive is: “If someone strikes you.” The matter is personal. Jesus is not advocating, “If someone strikes your neighbor on the right cheek, turn to him your neighbor’s other cheek.” While people are free to forego self-defense, they are not free to ignore the plight of the innocent third party.[4] Just-war thinking, which allows but does not require coercive force, is an extension of responsible ethics and politics. Indeed, the mainstream of the Christian moral tradition and the just-war tradition in particular – from Ambrose in the late 4^th century to the Catholic Catechism in the present day -- affirms the conviction that morally guided coercion can be an expression of charity. 

But a common objection, both in foreign policy and criminal justice, is raised: Isn’t retribution merely a pretext for vengeance? Clearly, revenge is not rooted in love for one’s neighbor. Is there a moral difference between retribution and revenge? A fair question. Indeed, civil society must be informed by this basic distinction. 

Just-war reasoning, and the Christian moral tradition, distinguish the retributive act from revenge, vindication from vindictiveness, in important and unmistakable ways. At its base, the moral outrage expressed through retributive justice is first and foremost rooted in moral principle, not mere emotional outrage or hatred. Governing authorities apply what Augustine called “benevolent harshness” by punishing criminal behavior, thereby mirroring a concern for the population’s welfare as well as for those doing wrong. Such applies both to domestic and foreign policy. Indeed, not to act against the wrongdoer is to nourish and strengthen the will of the wrongdoer. It needs re-emphasis, in the present cultural climate, that it is virtuous and not vicious to feel anger at moral evil. In truth, something is very wrong if we don’t express anger and moral outrage at evil. And yet, moral outrage is not enough. 

In what specific ways are retribution and revenge different? There are several critical distinctions. Whereas revenge strikes out at real or perceived injury, retribution speaks to an objective wrong. Whereas revenge is wild, “insatiable,” and not subject to limitations, retribution has both upper and lower limits, acknowledging the moral repugnance both of assigning draconian punishment to petty crimes as well as light punishment to heinous crimes. 

Vengeance, by its nature has a thirst for injury and delights in bringing further evil upon the other party. We can see this in observing terrorists at work, can’t we? The avenger will not only kill, but rape, torture, plunder and burn what is left, deriving satisfaction from his victim’s direct or indirect suffering. Augustine, of course, described this visceral inclination as a “lust for revenge.”[5] Retribution, by contrast, has as its goal a greater social good and takes no pleasure in punishment. 

Finally, whereas revenge, because of its retaliatory mode, will target both the offending party as well as those perceived to be akin, retribution is both targeted yet impersonal and impartial, not subject to personal bias. For this reason, Lady Justice is depicted as blindfolded. 

Understood properly, retributive justice is a moral entity that serves a civilized culture, whether in the domestic or international context. It isolates individuals, parties or people-groups who endanger the community – locally, nationally or internationally – for their wanton disregard for the common good. It controls the extent to which a citizenry is victimized by criminal acts. It rewards the perpetrator proportionately with consequences befitting the crime. And it forces both the offender and potential offenders to reflect in the grievous nature of the crime. Each of these elements is critical in preserving the social order, the tranquillitas ordinis. 

Elsewhere, in the volume Between Pacifism and Jihad, I’ve argued for the necessity of thinking through post-bello dimensions of just-war moral reasoning. Standard discussion of just war theory focuses on two categories – ius ad bellum and ius in bello considerations. Perhaps this third sphere, the post-bello, might be fodder for later discussion. I have in mind, for example, international tribunals for war crimes and crimes against humanity (genocide may well be on the increase since 1990), preemptive as well as post-crisis humanitarian intervention, the applicability of just-war criteria to terrorism, peace-keeping and post-conflict stabilizing, and post-war national-building. 

I close with an observation by South African Justice Richard Goldstone, who was Chief Prosecutor of the International Criminal Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda. In an important address several years ago at the U.S. Holocaust Museum, Goldstone had this to say about violence and justly mediated force:

            The one thing I have learned in my travels to the former Yugoslavia and in

Rwanda and in my own country is that where there have been egregious human

rights violations that have been unaccounted for, where there has been no justice,

where the victims have not received any acknowledgment, where they have been

forgotten, where there has been a national amnesia, the effect is a cancer on the

society. It is the reason that explains, in my respectful opinion, spirals of violence

that the world has seen in the former Yugoslavia for centuries and in Rwanda for

decades, to use two obvious example… So justice can make a contribution to

bringing enduring peace.[6] 

Without becoming imperialistic, I do think that in the present geopolitical climate, we shall need to make similar contributions to peace. Rescuing or preventing slaughter may be our reasonable service of charity. Thank you very much.