Pacifists, Just War Theorists, and the Rest of Us
For years I was active in Concerned Philosophers for Peace. We were a group of peace studies scholars who got together to share our work and, hopefully, find political solidarity.
Philosophically we divided into two groups: the pacifists and the just war theorists.
The pacifists opposed all state-sponsored violence. We simply did not understand the logic of war. If you wanted to force a well-placed political or business leader to give you something, why would you blow up a bunch of children and senior citizens? People with little money, power, or influence?
We also did not understand why people get caught up in war fever. When times are quiet, people shop and study and live peaceably together. But when the violent rhetoric begins, a switch flips. People line up to cheer for their team and to celebrate its brutality. Why do people passively let this madness overcome them?
It wasn’t that we had no understanding of tactics. We analyzed propaganda, studied history, followed the news. It’s just that the main yield of war seems to be death, suffering, refugees, disabilities, and cultural destruction. War takes a lot of money that could feed, house, and educate people and—it seemed to us—flushes it down the toilet.
Of course, we understood the economics are not so simple. People want to access natural resources. Some think fighting to control them is more cost-effective than negotiation. And we understood that war is a big business. With billions of dollars invested in personnel and equipment and development. And investors who want the industry to flourish. We also understood how many ordinary people, even good people, made their living in those industries.
We understood that some people like destroying things. Out of rage and spite, sometimes. But more often as a cultural tactic. Monuments, libraries, and schools help a society flourish. Communities who know their history and hold it with pride are likely to organize, resist, and rebel.
We also understood that for some people war is part of a religious ideology. A tradition might tell stories about holy wars that establish a community’s identity. Or about destructive divine acts that usher in a renewed world. Through the lens of these stories, war might look like a good thing.
We understood all of this, and yet we understood none of it. It just made no moral sense.
Our colleagues the just war theorists took a different approach. In principle, some wars could make sense—if the aims and the tactics were right.
Sometimes the just war theorists would speak in classical concepts. They might draw on the ideas of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo (354-430). A war, he wrote, could be fought for the right reasons, led by a legitimate authority, and conducted with ethical restraint. So our colleagues might analyze a politician’s declaration of war to see how the politician represented reasons and tactics.
And sometimes the just war theorists would take a more modern, statistical approach. Do the gains from a war cancel out the damage it does? Is harm proportionate to the goals? For example, if an army could liberate 10,000 people, would it be okay for them to kill 100 soldiers and 10 non-combatant children? Or lose 50 of their own soldiers?
We pacifists understood the questions. But, we argued, other questions are important, too. Can we calculate grief, attachment, culture, or religion as numerical values? Does an invader have the right to assess how much damage its enemy should accept? What if the casualties were your own family? Do leaders really calculate risks and benefits rationally, as your approach suggests? Or are they susceptible to bribes, flattery, competing lobbies, distractions, and personal desires?
And yet here we were, together. Pacifists and just war theorists alike. We shared meals, family stories, academic advice, teaching ideas. One passion linked us: condemning war. The pacifists opposed all war. The just war theorists opposed most wars. We drew the lines in different places, for different reasons. And we got together to talk about why.
Where do YOU draw the line?
** Photo: Lake Huron by Laura Duhan-Kaplan
