On Pacifism

I wrote this piece during my final term at New College in Oxford last year. Since it represents well my desire to use this blog as a place to discuss the ideas that shape our interaction with the world, I decided to use this as my first post. Hope you enjoy it!

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Pacifism remains one of the more controversial debates in contemporary discussions of international politics, particularly within Christian communities. One of the main proponents of a Christian pacifist ethic is Stanley Hauerwas. Hauerwas’ main text on the subject, The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer on Christian Ethics, is not entirely devoted to pacifism as an ideology, but instead to an explication of the Christian’s call to non-violence. Hauerwas bases this ethic of non-violence on the life of Jesus and takes Jesus’ denial of violence in particular instances to include denial of acts violence in general. He also focuses on the Christian call to mercy and forgiveness and the inseparability of true non-violence from a Christian ethical framework. Finally, he expresses the belief that non-violence is necessary because it is the only ethical system that expresses complete reliance upon the faithfulness of God. For this reason, he contends that non-violence (I will refer to this as pacifism from here on out) is the only morally acceptable position for Christians to hold, and that Christians are the only ones capable of holding such a position. I will challenge each of his points with reference to works by Nigel Biggar and Reinhold Niebuhr. I will also set the debate against the backdrop of the Second World War in order to argue for both the infeasibility of a pacifist ethic and for the position that pacifism would have been a morally bankrupt response to the war.

Several of Hauerwas’ points deserve particular attention. The first is his assertion that the biblical justifications against particular instances of violence constitute a denial of the ethical use of violence in general. The second is his focus on the call to mercy and forgiveness concerning one’s enemies. The third is his claim that pacifism is the only morally tenable position for a Christian. I hope to show that each of these are problematic and ultimately untenable views.

Hauerwas uses the example of Jesus’ second temptation in the desert and says that the devil is offering Jesus dominion, and that this is a dominion brought about through force. Jesus rejects this dominion. “God’s kingdom, it seems, will not have peace through coercion.”[1] Yet it is not clear that this is what is happening in this instance, nor is it clear that denial of a particular use of force makes all aggression illegitimate. To choose, as Hauerwas does, a single instance and extrapolate an entire ethic from it is less than compelling. There are numerous stories throughout the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, that seem to be difficult to reconcile with a universal ethic of non-violence. Three in particular are worth mentioning. The first can be found in the gospel of Mark. “And they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold and those who bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. And he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple.” (Mark 11:15-16) In this instance, Jesus enters the temple and begins to drive out those who are using it as a marketplace. One who would argue for a pacifist ethic based on the life of Jesus ought to reckon with this passage, yet Hauerwas does not. The second story comes from Matthew 8:5-13. In this instance, Jesus heals the servant of a Roman Centurion. This centurion is held up as an example of faith. What is intriguing is that while Jesus commends him for his faith and tells him that his servant will be healed as he believed he would, he makes no reference at all to the centurion’s occupation as a soldier, nor does he rebuke him for the violence he has doubtlessly been involved in. It would seem that faith can coexist apart from a pacifist ethic. The final example is not a story, but a repeated injunction for the people of Israel to follow. It occurs many times throughout the psalms and the prophets. One of these passages from the psalms reads, “Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.” (Psalm 82:3) While it would certainly be possible to do this in many instances without the use of force, there are some instances in which aggression would be required to fulfill such a command. Consider the Second World War. In order to free the people of France and Europe from German invasion, it was necessary for the Allies to use aggressive force to engage the enemy. It would be difficult to argue that the biblical injunction to defend the weak and uphold the cause of the oppressed could be fulfilled through the use of non-violent means in this instance.

One could argue that the pacifist ethic Hauerwas presents as derived from the life of Jesus is incomplete, and therefore less compelling than it could be. It does appear that a robust view of Christian pacifism as intended by Hauerwas has many more challenges than he gives credit to. One of these challenges derives from his assertion that one must encourage mercy and forgiveness above all else in order to fulfill a truly pacifist ethic. In examining this we will be able to draw some parallels to the Second World War in order to make the weakness of such a position clearer.

Hauerwas claims that an ethic deriving from Christian principles must come from the life of Jesus. He says, “It is only from him that we can learn perfection – which is at the very least nothing less than forgiving our enemies.”[2] He takes the point even further than forgiveness to say that there must be an underlying attitude of love. “God wills nothing less than that men and women should love their enemies and forgive one another; thus we will be perfect as God is perfect.”[3] But can mercy exist on its own apart from anything else? Mercy is not so much a thing in itself, but the tempering of another: justice. Hauerwas ignores this as a concern. Also, is it enough to simply assert that the essence of Christ-like perfection is forgiveness? As Nigel Biggar puts it, “[T]o believe that Jesus’ teaching and life show how human beings should behave… is to make normative a certain kind of forgiving love for others. None of this, however, entails the pacifist repudiation of violence always and everywhere.”[4] Mercy can, and ought, to be a consideration when engaging in violence. Yet, as Biggar argues, violence can be meted out in love with a desire for peace and reconciliation. It could be argued that Hauerwas’ focus on forgiveness, while admirable, denies a core obligation to preserve peace. He argues that “[W]e are free just to the extent that we learn to trust others and make ourselves available to be trusted by others.”[5] But it would be foolish to trust someone who has demonstrated themselves to be untrustworthy. In regards to World War II, one could argue that a similar pacifist ethic encouraged Germany in its invasion of other countries. Germany repeatedly violated the Treaty of Versailles and expressed military ambitions. This can be seen in its reinstatement of conscription, development of an air force, its occupation of the Rhineland, the mobilization of its military, its occupation of the Sudetenland, its overpowering of Czechoslovakia, its military pacts with both Italy and the Soviet Union, and finally its invasion of Poland. At every point along the way they claimed that each step was their last and that they were simply regaining what was rightfully theirs. Germany did not show itself to be trustworthy, and the other European powers were foolish to extend a trust that was not warranted. With this in mind, it would be difficult to argue that pacifism is morally defensible, particularly when it entails the offer of forgiveness at the expense of the fulfillment of justice or the expression of trust in an untrustworthy object.

This is not to say that we do not have a moral obligation to seek peace. War is a terrible thing that should never be sought after. Yet there are times when force is the only morally appropriate response. Biggar quotes from Michael Quinlan who says, “[W]here action is possible inaction is itself a choice, with its own consequences, its own responsibility and its own problems of unsure prediction.”[6] To claim that one cannot respond with violence for any reason to any sort of violent actions could be argued to be a morally untenable position, especially for those who hold to Christian principles. Reinhold Niebuhr wrote in the context of the Second World War that, “American Christianity is all too prone to disavow its responsibilities for the preservation of our civilization against the perils of totalitarian aggression.”[7] Yet Christians are called to protect, to preserve, and to defend those who are incapable of defending themselves. Niebuhr presses the point by saying, “We think it dangerous to allow religious sensitivity to obscure the fact that Nazi tyranny intends to annihilate the Jewish race, to subject the nations of Europe to the dominion of a “master” race, to extirpate the Christian religion, to annul the liberties and legal standards that are the priceless heritage of ages of Christian and humanistic culture, to make truth the prostitute of political power, to seek world dominion through its satraps and allies, and generally to destroy the very fabric of our western civilization.”[8]

This is strongly worded, and perhaps rightly so. Niebuhr is making the point that we have an inherent responsibility to steward well the world that we inhabit. Biggar writes, “[H]uman beings are made in the image of God to tend the world. We are made to care for what deserves to be cared for, and to flourish in its service. We are made to take responsibility under God – to take responsibility while being responsible…. [W]e must do what we can to defend and promote what is good – but within the limits of what we may.”[9]Responsible and justified uses of violence are permissible as long as they are not undertaken for purposes of revenge or done out of proportion to their inciting offences. One could argue that to trust God in the way that Hauerwas does would constitute a morally untenable position because it places the emphasis on the wrong person. Instead of relying on our God-given capacity for reason, we rely instead on Him to fix our situation, citing our supernatural faith in His providence. That would be akin to an architect giving builders tools and telling them to build a building only to have the builders throw away the tools and wait expectantly for the architect to intervene on their behalf. One may not simply ignore moral evil that one has the ability to stop in the hope that one will not be morally culpable for it. As Biggar says, “[I]f war usually causes terrible evils, peace sometimes permits them.”[10] When one compares this to World War II the point becomes even clearer. Niebuhr writes that, “We cannot, of course, be certain that defeat of the Nazis will usher in a new order of international justice in Europe and the world. We do know what a Nazi victory would mean, and our first task must therefore be to prevent it.”[11] To do nothing would likely have lead to the spread of a tyrannical empire over most of the world. In light of this it would be difficult to argue that pacifism would have been a morally appropriate response in World War II.

If that is true, then why would pacifism be appropriate in other places? Where we have an ability to stop moral evils, should we not do so? Hauerwas would argue that to do so does not constitute an expression of love. While this focus on love from Hauerwas is appealing, I would tend towards Niebuhr’s position. “The profoundest insights of the Christian faith cannot be expressed by the simple counsel that men ought to be more loving, and that if they became so the problems of war and of international organization would solve themselves.”[12] This, however, does not do full justice to the Christian belief that one must love one’s neighbor and one’s enemy. For a war to be just, love must have a place in that war. Where does such a love arise and is it even possible for love to spring up amid violence? I argue that it is. The pacifist tradition extending from Hauerwas would hold that loving enemies is incompatible with killing them.[13] Yet Biggar argues there are legitimate reasons to assume we may act lovingly despite having to use force, even lethal force:

I might deliberately kill an aggressor, not at all because I hate him, nor because I reckon his life worth less than anyone else’s, nor because I want him dead, but because, tragically, I know of no other way to prevent him from perpetrating a serious injury on an innocent neighbour. My deliberate killing is loving, therefore, in two respects: first, its overriding aim is to protect the innocent from serious harm; and second, it acknowledges the aggressor’s equal dignity, it wishes him no evil, and it would gladly spare him if it could.

In the end, it comes down to stewardship. If one is in a position to defend those who cannot defend themselves, then one must fulfill that responsibility, even if doing so requries the use of lethal force. To do anything less would be unjust because it refuses our responsibilities. For this reason, I find Hauerwas’ critique of violent force unconvincing. To say, on the one hand, that an individual must not use force is problematic enough. To extend it further, however, to say that no one may use coercive force for any reason could be argued to be exceedingly problematic. It would seem that states have an obligation to defend their citizens. To extrapolate from an individual ethic of non-violence to a national ethic would be to open a country up to violent and rampant abuses against its citizens. Reinhold Neibuhr, speaking about the Second World War, summed it up well when he said, “Yet there are times when hopes for the future, as well as contrition over past misdeeds, must be subordinated to the urgent, immediate task. In this instance, the immediate task is the defeat of Nazi tyranny. If this task does not engage us, both our repentance and our hope become luxuries in which we indulge while other men save us from an intolerable fate, or while our inaction betrays into disaster a cause to which we owe allegiance.”[14]

To choose inaction when action is possible is to make a choice that comes with its own consequences. While Hauerwas contends that pacifism is the only morally acceptable approach for a Christian to hold, I would argue that pacifism is a morally unacceptable position for a Christian. To deny one’s responsibility to steward well one’s life and those over whom one has a responsibility is to deny a core aspect of Christian thought – that of loving others. Love may require legitimate defense, and it is not enough to simply say that we are unjust in using violence. Violence, one can argue, may be meted out in genuine defense of others in a way that shows love without hatred or vengeance. It is this sort of violent action that, while never sought, may be permissible. “Love can be active in the making of war. Augustine was right: belligerent harshness can be kind.”[15]

Note: Future pieces will focus more on current events – particularly those relevant to discussions of foreign policy. However, I was so pleased with this essay that I decided to post it here.

[1] Hauerwas, Stanley. The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics. Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1983. – pg 79

[2] Ibid. – pg 76

[3] Ibid. – pg 85

[4] Biggar, Nigel. In Defence of War. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. – pg 20-21

[5] Hauerwas, Peaceable Kingdom. – pg 46

[6] Biggar, In Defence of War. – pg 33

[7] Neibuhr, Reinhold. “Christian Faith and the World Crisis.” Christianity and Crisis, 1941. http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=381.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Biggar, In Defence of War. – pg 31 (original emphasis)

[10] Ibid. – pg 5

[11] Niebuhr, Christian Faith.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Biggar. In Defence of War. – pg 49

[14] Niebuhr, Christian Faith.

[15] Biggar. In Defence of War. – pg 91