What Just War Theory Can Tell Us
America is at war, in
many faraway lands. By normal definitions, we are now at war in Afghanistan, Iraq
(until the troops leave), Libya, Somalia, Yemen, Pakistan, and somewhere in
Central Africa, at least. Perhaps we simply accept that as part of our lives. We
are grateful for our soldiers’ sacrifices. But the wars go on. Iran and Syria,
perhaps, will be the next arenas of American war—who would be shocked?
What if some of our wars
are morally wrong? Sinful, to put it another way? No signed certificate from
God tells us that is never the case for the United States. Even biblical heroes
singled out by God for special service, such as Abraham, David, Peter, and Paul,
fell into sin at times, so our country certainly could. If some of our wars are
indeed wrong, thoughtless support or careless indifference would involve us, as
citizens, in moral guilt. Going to war is a heavy responsibility for a country and its voting citizens, even if war
does not touch most of us personally. It is the gravest decision a nation faces
outside its borders. In the Christian tradition, killing human beings is an
incredibly serious act. Can we do more than pray about whether our leaders are
right? Yes, we can. If we have a solid idea about what makes a war right, then
we can apply that idea to our nation’s proposed and existing wars, and to our
voting. We can then back what is right, and resist what is wrong.
There are some competing
ideas out there. The choice for Christians generally boils down to harsh
realism, just war theory, or pacifism. Harsh realism means our interests
outweigh concerns about right and wrong—but that is blindness to our own moral
status as creatures capable of going wrong. Pacifism means all our wars are
wrong by definition—but that does not do justice to our sense that some things
are worth fighting for. I discovered just war theory as an Arabic-speaking
American diplomat with almost 15 years of experience in the Middle East. As I applied the
theory with great care to the U.S. war in Iraq, it became more and more clear
to me that it answers the questions about war in a way that avoids the pitfalls
of realism and pacifism—and that it is almost unknown to us. I will give a
brief explanation of the theory, and to demonstrate its value, I will show how
it should have been applied to our recent actions in Libya.
An ancient theory with
classical and medieval Christian roots, just war theory is famous lately
despite being unknown. President Bush’s speech announcing the start of the Iraq
war in 2003 was heavily influenced by it. President Obama mentioned just war
theory in his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech in December 2009, and claims
to be guided by it. Prominent evangelicals such as Chuck Colson, as well as many
prominent Catholic commentators, including George Weigel and Father Richard
John Neuhaus (RIP), stated that the war in Iraq was just according to just war
theory. Some have added that since an important part of the theory revolves
around choices guided by prudence, only the political figures involved are qualified
to judge whether a war is just. So mainstream politicians of both parties have
used just war theory to certify the justice of our current wars, and well-known
theologians, Catholic and Protestant, agree. Many of these theologians tell us,
too, that it is not really our business as simple citizens to decide whether
any particular war is just. So does just war theory either bless our current
wars or tell us ordinary people to butt out? No. Sadly, much of this talk about
just war theory abuses rather than honors it.
Thomas Aquinas was, for
all Catholics and many Protestants and Orthodox, one of the greatest Christian
teachers and thinkers ever. Aquinas first put the just war criteria into what
was in effect one short article, which
begins “in order for a war to be just, three things are necessary:” the
authority of the ruler, a just cause, and a right intention that includes “the
aim of peace.” Later writers added three additional “prudential” qualifications
for a just war: proportionality of ends, reasonable chance of success, and last
resort. These prudential criteria can be found in Aquinas’ thought on other
moral uses of force, so it is appropriate to include them for war (as discussed
in some detail here). The Catholic Catechism, which
rephrases these criteria, says these “strict conditions…require rigorous
consideration,” adding that they should be all be met, “at one and the same
time.” Notice that this theory is not part of the Manichean world of our
popular imagination, where we are basically Good and the other side is pretty
much just Evil, so “whatever it takes” is fine. No, we are in the world of
Alexander Solzhenitsyn, who wrote that lying on his rotting prison straw in the
Gulag, he realized that “the line separating good and evil passes not through
states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right
through every human heart.” (Chuck Colson loves this line, and deserves credit
for popularizing it among evangelical Christians.) We are not completely good,
yet it matters that we try to do good—and when we use force, we must use
extreme care, or we are likely to slip into doing evil ourselves.
Note that in a
completely defensive war, we could simply defend ourselves according to just
war theory, unless we were being justly attacked. The aim of preserving a
decent country that was not guilty of some grave offense from attack is enough
justification, just as in the case of personal self-defense, which Aquinas
strongly approves. It seems the just war criteria come into play the instant a
country wishes to go beyond simple defense against invasion.
Let’s apply the just war
criteria to our war in Libya, as just one example. Libya was certainly not
attacking us, so we need to apply the criteria. Many writers start with “just
cause,” but although there is nothing wrong with this, it can be a trap. We Americans
tend to see “just cause” as the only important question, so we often stop after
considering it. However, since all six criteria need to be met, at least
substantially, for a war to be just, we have to consider all the criteria
before reaching a “just” verdict. We can start anywhere we like. If we aren’t
convinced on any of the criteria, we should stop, and refuse to support the
war.
I am struck first by the
fact that the last four of the criteria, because of the “aim of peace” included
in “right intention,” all require a detailed idea of “success.” That idea must
always include more than “getting rid of a tyrant.” Getting rid of a tyrant such
as Saddam or Qaddhafi might or might not lay a foundation for peace, but it
doesn’t achieve peace. Surely everyone who has ever thought seriously about
Iraq can agree on that! In order to go to war with “the aim of peace,” we must
realistically define “success” in terms of a stable, better, peaceful outcome
that we hope to achieve. After all, if you don’t really know what you are
trying to accomplish, you cannot say if you have succeeded. Success in ordinary
life needs a definition: when you go to college you want to get a bachelor’s
degree and some real education; when you get married you want to achieve a life
of love and sharing that doesn’t crash and burn, when you start a business you
want to be able to sell a specific product or service and turn a profit for
some years, and so forth. In terms of these examples, “getting rid of the
tyrant” is like getting into college, or getting married, or making your first
sale—it is just a condition of success (a “necessary but not sufficient”
condition). No one who has not publicly defined “success” in some detail in terms
of a hoped-for, peaceful outcome can credibly claim to have met a single one of
the last four criteria.
“Right intention” means
we, and especially our leaders, truly desire that outcome of a new, stable,
peaceful situation that we have defined as carefully as we can, and are taking
the concrete steps needed to achieve it. “Proportionality of ends” means the
damage we are likely to cause with a war we are starting (which will continue
until success is achieved), long term as well as short, will not be worse than
the damage the tyrant is causing. That means calculations, which ought to be
public. “Reasonable chance of success” means, as in going to college or getting
married or starting a business, that you have the qualifications to achieve
your aim, you have made serious plans to do so, and you are likely to achieve
it—not perfectly, but substantially. You are not likely to flunk out or get a
divorce or go broke in a few months, with all the harm those things will cause
to others (and war causes far more harm). This “reasonable chance” should be
demonstrated with realistic plans, which build on the definition of success. “Last
resort” means that you have carefully considered how to achieve your aim (your
defined “success”), and only war will achieve it. Because war is a grave choice
that always involves the death of at least some innocent human beings, it is
never an option if there is another way to achieve the desired and just aim.
To repeat, each of these
criteria requires a detailed description of “success” and a credible showing of
how the criterion will be met.
Did anyone see any of
these calculations being discussed in public in the United States before we
started fighting in Libya? Did anyone see a detailed definition of “success”
that went beyond getting rid of Qaddhafi—not just a vague hope for democracy
but a realistic plan for getting a new and better government? Did anyone see a
discussion of the damage the fighting was likely to cause, or the likelihood of
a better ruler arising after Qaddhafi was gone, or even the likelihood that the
rebels could agree on one of their number to be the ruler, in light of the
absence of any Western-style democratic tradition in Libya, a largely tribal
society? Did anyone see serious estimates of Qaddhafi’s death toll over the
years, carefully considered to see if they were reliable rather than someone’s
propaganda, compared to the likely deaths in a civil war? Or a discussion of
the fact that many Libyans backed Qaddhafi (often on a tribal basis), and actually
felt represented by him as a leader? Of the possibility of a civil war
continuing after Qaddhafi was gone? Of the possibility that we would trade rule
by one tribal leader for rule by another? What about our commitment to the
people of Libya to fight until success was achieved?
I saw precious little of
any of this in the mainstream media, and none from the United States government—certainly
not the 50-page white paper on the subject that I would hope for at a minimum.
Instead, I saw Manichean
discussions of a leader who was more or less the embodiment of evil,
so that the calculations that just war theory calls for were just not needed. I
have seen no indication that the White House made these calculations, and I
know that there was no declaration of war, something the the U.S. Constitution takes
for granted will be the start of a war that is not a defense against an actual
sudden attack on U.S. forces or territory.
There is no indication,
then, that in the spring of 2011 the war should have been considered to have
passed the last four just war criteria: right intention, proportionality of
ends, reasonable chance of success, and last resort. If it failed one, it
should not have been supported, and it appeared to fail four—whether the cause
was just or not. If there were secret discussions in the government of all
these things, then the war still failed to be a just war insofar as we are a
democratic society charged with a voice in major decisions—the very point of
the Constitution’s placing the power to declare war in Congress, not the
Presidency. Perhaps it passed the “just war by an absolute monarchy” test—but
we do not even know that, as there is no evidence available. Looking ahead, we
have assumed responsibility for an outcome, the overthrow of a tyrant, with no
idea what the consequences were likely to be for the people of Libya. “We came, we saw, he died,” Secretary
Clinton guffawed over the juxtaposition of her arrival in Libya and Qaddhafi’s
death. But what about Libya? What will happen to all its people over the next
two to ten years? Our media, as we know, have moved on to focus our attention
on the next sexy issue—Libya is already basically forgotten.
Let’s draw a parallel:
the execution of a fellow citizen. We know from all our history that this
decision cannot be left up to faceless bureaucrats in a government—that way lies
totalitarianism and tyranny. There needs to be a trial, presentation of
evidence, and an unbiased weighing of it. So would we be concerned if a man
were arrested, if we heard a lot of propaganda about what an evil man he was,
and we were then shown pictures of his body after the execution, with no word
of a public trial? Of course we would, if we were at all concerned about
justice in our own country. A war is clearly like an execution of one man, only
10,000 times more serious. Yet as a country we did not take this war in Libya as
seriously as March Madness.
Take this discussion of
Libya and apply it to our drone strikes in Yemen and Somalia and Pakistan, to
our overthrow of Saddam, to our long-term armed nation-building efforts in
Afghanistan, and to our new, small war (trainers only, so far) against the
Lord’s Resistance Army in Africa, to calls for war against Syria and Iran—how
much death and destruction have we caused, how much more seems likely. Yet, are
we being morally serious? Have we defined success? Have the calculations been
made? Or are we living in a Manichean world where we are Good and from time to
time we identify an Evil that we “must” attack, whatever the long-term costs
for the people who live far away? I believe the answer is obvious. Just wars
exist, but our current wars don’t fit the bill. That is true even in
Afghanistan: the Afghan war began, I believe, as an effort of national
self-defense with a just cause, but it quickly grew into a “nation-building”
effort: an occupation of a foreign country by force (with no set time limit),
something very different from a defensive war, and one that required the full
just war criteria to be satisfied. As long as we intended to remake Afghanistan
in some way, rather than simply respond to a real but not unlimited threat, it
seems unlikely the criteria could have been met in that much-invaded,
long-suffering country.
* * *
Let’s deal with two
likely objections before concluding. First, are these various conflicts really wars?
Let’s clarify that what would qualify as an act of war if committed against the
UK, or the U.S., is an act of war. A foreign cruise missile intentionally flown
into a house in a town in any state in the United States would be considered by
all Americans as an act of war. Soldiers of a foreign country coming into the
U.S. on a helicopter and killing someone would be the same, whatever the
justification in either case. So when our government forces commit these acts,
let us call them acts of war. And how about sanctions? If a country, say Iran
or Russia or China, persuaded the United Nations to impose sanctions on our
country, Americans would consider that an act of war—so let us consider it an
act of war when we persuade the UN to impose sanctions on another country. Fair
is fair.
Next let us consider the
point made by some theologians about who is qualified to decide if a war is
just. For Catholics, this is related to section 2309 of the Catholic Catechism, which
states concerning the criteria for a just war, “the evaluation of these
conditions for moral legitimacy belongs to the prudential judgment of those who
have responsibility for the common good.” In articles in First Things, Father Neuhaus substituted “political leaders” for
that last phrase, and George Weigel suggested that political leaders have “the
virtue or moral habit of responsibility” for such decisions—but the Vatican II
document Gaudium
et Spes (see paragraph 74) makes it clear that each member of a
political community has some responsibility for the common good). Political
leaders will of course make these decisions as long as there is any kind of
government, but all citizens have the right to consider the question, advocate
for a point of view, or vote someone out of office based on a decision they
believe was wrong. This goes not only for the basic question of the justice of
a war (which is a matter of judgment), but also for the prudential criteria I
have dwelt on: political leaders are not gifted with infallibility, and the
fallible judgments of ordinary citizens also have value in such questions, more
or less value depending on their experience, knowledge, and wisdom. Often
enough, if we look at history, this appears to be greater for many citizens
than for the leader making the choice. (See here for
further discussion of the flaws in the reasoning that simply dumps such
decisions in politicians’ laps.) Finally on this point, the question of war is
much like other questions decided by courts and legislatures and presidents,
such as those concerning abortion or criminal penalties. Do we all have a right
to an informed opinion on such issues? I am firmly pro-life (although I believe
we need to rethink the
mechanism for getting closer to our goal), but let us not be hypocrites: let
all those who advocate for the special responsibility of political leaders in
war add the same proviso concerning judges to their every published opinion on
abortion: “let us remember that ordinary citizens and theologians have limited
expertise in legal matters. Judges have the ‘moral habit of responsibility’ for
such decisions, and they must decide legal cases.” This is almost precisely
equivalent to the quibble about “our leaders having a special responsibility to
make decisions about war.”
* * *
So why is this essay
called a Christian voter’s guide? I trust that is obvious too. For every
citizen concerned about justice (which should include all of us), the question
of whether a politician is willing to “rigorously apply” the “strict”
principles of just war theory should be one extremely important consideration
in whether that politician gets our vote. There aren’t many politicians who
qualify—consider restricting your vote to one of them. (I can think of one
without even trying.) Such a vote is a moral act, and the opposing act, of
voting for someone likely to involve this country in an unjust war, involves
the voter in this grave injustice. With all the immoral wars our forces appear
to be fighting, this is crucial. Mainstream opinion in both our major parties
appears to be in favor of Manichean rather than just wars. But if enough of us
vote on just war grounds, our country could change.
Craig White is the author of the book Iraq
the Moral Reckoning and the booklet PEACE
& WAR in Today's World: What the Catholic Church thinks and why
(published in the UK). A retired United States diplomat, he is currently a PhD
student in political science.