What Is It Good For? Nonviolence In A Violent World: Part IV
January 4, 2009
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IV: No. It’s just War.
Continuing my series on Nonviolence, this post will discuss Church tradition. I’ll lean heavily on an essay by Greek Orthodox Priest Stanley S. Harakas that appeared in his book, Patristic Ethics.
It would be an oversimplification to claim broadly that the pre-Constantinian fathers were wholly pacifist and that it was only after Empirical Christianity that anyone bothered asking tough questions about violence. Modern scholarship (Swift for example) has shown us that while nonviolence was the popular norm for the first two centuries of the Church, there existed a growing tension on the issue as the nature of Christianity became less subversive and more institutional. Likewise, the tradition of nonviolence did not die with Constantine’s cross in the sky, but expressed itself in more creative ways, often in opposition to the majority, and preserved more obviously in the Eastern tradition.
It would be impossible and redundant to launch a broad discussion on the history of Christian attitudes toward violence (wonderful studies exist elsewhere). Instead I’d like to briefly outline what I see as 1) primitive Christianity’s committment to nonviolence as an ideal, 2) the developing pro-peace tradition that interpreted that ideal, 3) and the travesty brought to this delicate interpretive-dance by Just War theory.
Peace As Reconciliation
For the patristics, peace wasn’t merely the absence of war, but the fullness of creation’s reconciliation with the Creator through Christ. Nonviolence wasn’t so much the point, as an inevitable, visible consequence of Kingdom living. Harakas provides an enlightening etymological background on the relationships between “shalom,” “eirene” and “peace,” that I don’t have space to discuss here but you should probably check out. This understanding of “peace as kingdom status” rather than merely “peace as absence of violent action” was expressed primarily theologically with ethical implications. In the letter from the Romans to the Corinthians we find a good example:
… let us hasten on to the goal of peace, which has been handed down to us from the beginning; let us fix our eyes upon the Father and Maker of the whole world, and hold fast to his magnificent and excellent gifts and benefits of peace. Let us see him in our mind, and let us look with the eyes of the soul on his patient will. Let us note how free from anger he is toward all his creation.
I Clement 19:2-3
The early patristics understood this peace to have unique outward, social and moral implications. For Clement of Alexandria, Christ uses the Church as his soldiers of peace:
The loud trumpet, when sounded, collects the soldiers, and proclaims war. And shall not Christ, breathing a strain of peace to the ends of the earth, gather together His own soldiers, the soldiers of peace? Well, by His blood and by the word, He has gathered the bloodless host of peace, and assigned to them the kingdom of heaven
Clement of Alexandria, Exhortation to the Heathens, II
(And as David pointed out in the comments of Part III,) the status of peace is not a standalone ethic, but an intricate part of Christ’s command to love: “..if there is peace, there will also be love; if love, there will be peace, also” (John Chrysostom, Homily on Ephesians). For the ascetics, peace was also a unique outpouring of the inner spiritual life. “…true inner peace comes from above…” Thus, Christians should “…seek peace, which is the separation from the turbulences of this world… so as to obtain the peace of God.” (St. Basil, Homily on Psalm 33).
It should be no surprise that for most preconstantinians, this fuller status of peace led to nonviolence as a norm. Justin Martyr interpreted the period after Christ as the fulfillment of Isaiah 2:4 when the peoples of the world will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning-hooks upon the arrival of Christians who “formerly killed one another” but now “refuse to make war on their enemies.” (Justin Martyr, First Apology 39:3). Tertullian famously maintained a sustained polemic against Christians serving in the military for both reasons of the inevitable idolatry involved with being a part of the Roman Legions, as well as for reasons of peace:
“Will a son of peace who should not even go to court take part in a battle? Will a man who does not avenge wrongs done to himself have any part in chains, prisons, tortures and punishments?”
Tertullian II, 1-7
There are many more examples but I must move on.
Interestingly, by the time of Origen, we already see evidence of compromise in this ethic. Attempting to portray a Christianity more complementary to the state (among many other things), Origen OKs acts of war for the Empire as long as there is “just cause” but reduces the Christian’s duty to that of peaceful prayer: “We do not go out on the campaign with (the emperor) even if he insists, but we do battle on his behalf by raising a special army of piety through our petitions to God.” (Origen, Against Celcus 7:73).
The subtle distinction here, from “war as evil that Christians cannot support” to “war as necessary evil that Christians can support through prayer and petition” provides a backdrop for future justification.
Pro-Peace in the Empire
For the brand new Christian Empire, non violence created a novel conundrum. How could the Empire maintain order without using violence. Eusebius (Constantine’s most vocal supporter) painted a utopian picture where the union of Church and Empire meant that “the whole human race was converted to peace and friendship when all men recognized each other as brothers and discovered their natural kinship” (Eusebius, In Praise of Constantine 2). But unfortunately, his optimism couldn’t last as the Empire continued to encounter opposition. One solution sought by the Apostolic Canons forbid monks and clergy from participation in the military but allowed it for civilians. The idea seemed to work functionally but introduced a duality previously foreign to Christian teaching on nonviolence.
The Eastern Church struggled with this tension differently from the Western tradition. Whereas Augustine called it a Manichaean heresy to suggest that war was intrinsically evil and unchristian, the Byzantine fathers historically retained a reluctance for war—even when violence was thrust upon them. St. Basil suggested a pardon for men who killed during war in defense of justice, but also provided that perhaps these men should be refused communion for three years since they were not “clean handed.” An anonymous Byzantine war strategy manual dated during the 6th century outlines carefully how the armies of the Empire could engage and defend the city with the least amount of bloodshed (for example, refusing to surround the enemy so that they might retreat if they wish; using diplomacy, intrigue, and hunger sieges primarily and only resorting to outright battle as a final option.)
My goal here is not to extract a concise “war as necessary evil” ethic from the Eastern Church so much as to illustrate how the ancient idea of “peace” outlined above was sought in creative, albeit difficult ways. From these few examples, we see the Eastern Church living in the “already but not yet” tension of living the nonviolent ideal in a violent world.
“Good Wars” and “Bad Wars?”
Contrast this with the strong “Just War” tradition of the Western Church, founded by Augustine and St. Ambrose. Whereas elements in the Eastern tradition maintained that all war was inherently bad, but at times unfortunately unavoidable; this theory introduced the idea that under the right conditions, violence could, in fact, be virtuous.
The travesty of Just War theory is precisely this idea of virtuous violence. By outlining right conditions for Holy War, proponents elevated violence to the same Kingdom status that peace once held alone. No longer was nonviolence the sole ideal—it was dethroned by a certain type of violence that could justifiably be proven to lead to a certain type of peace.
By justifying state violence, the Church was robbed of its theology for peace as reconciliation with God the Creator. Further, the fuller, mystical understanding of peace as a “Kingdom Status” was buried under natural law.
Such thinking has dominated the western landscape for most of Church history and been used to justify most violent atrocities Christians have either instigated or found themselves involved in. In Part V, I’ll discuss the modern errors of Just War thinking that still pervade modern culture as well as outline my thoughts for a new way forward for the pro-peace Christian.
“When individuals slay a man, it is a crime. When killing takes place on behalf of the state, it is called a virtue. Crimes go unpunished not because the perpetrators are said to be guiltless but because their cruelty is so extensive.”
St. Cyprian of Carthage, 6
Read Part V
reed
adhunt
jstambaugh
Shawn Wamsley
January 4, 2009 at 22:06
I am really glad you are posting such vigorous historical anaysis of our Christian roots. As one of the “old guys” doing some post-modern/post-evangelical work in a mainline/side-lined church, it not only encourages me to see your ommitment to understanding the tradition, but also sharing insights about how that tradition offers a critique of the seriously watered-down commitment of the contemporary church in the evangelical or side-lined variety. Keep up the great work.
January 4, 2009 at 23:09
I have two questions, and I hope they don’t seem loaded.
1) If, say, an entire nation were to become Christian and choose to adhere to this ethic of nonviolence, but it’s enemies didn’t, what happens when that enemy decides to attack and destroy the peaceful nation completely? If the people of God really did this as a whole, wouldn’t we eventually be wiped out when nations who wanted this piece of land or that got wise to our pacifism?
2) Was it not an act of violence, of capital punishment, that fulfilled Jesus purpose on the cross? Even in God’s plan for salvation, then, was he unable to do it without violence or is there a time and a season for all things? And no, I don’t mean to intentionally take Ecclesiastes 3 out of context, but it tends to fit.
I’m interested in your thought on this, because I would like to find it easier to agree with you on pacifism, to some extent, at least.
January 4, 2009 at 23:58
I appreciate your encouragement, RJ. I’m happy you’re visiting our blog!
Tony: Thanks for engaging my post. These are tough questions, but initially I have a few thoughts.
1. Hypothetical questions like this are inevitable when discussing nonviolence, and unfortunately I think they suffer from leaning too heavily on natural law. There are problems with the situation (not least because it’s unlikely a nation made up entirely of Christians practicing nonviolence will ever exist) but also because we don’t know the nature of the violence (is diplomacy an option? nonviolent resistance?)
Jesus’ command in Matt 5 wasn’t “you should practice nonviolence because it is the best way to achieve peace” but actually “you should practice nonviolence because you are my disciples.” Jesus expected his followers to be persecuted, he warned them of it in fact!
Once again, this is tough because it’s a hypothetical situation. But I think Christ’s commands supersede our leaning on natural law to try to find a way out of it. If we consider ourselves to be disciples then we’re simply meant to obey. The problem with going to the worst case scenario (i.e. systematic extermination of Christians by violence) is that it drives us to create ethical systems for situations that will probably never happen.
So you see, I can’t present a cohesive nonviolent ethic for that world because there currently exists no wholly Christian nation, nor a significant threat of extinction to Christians.
2) It was exactly an act of violence, Tony. That’s what makes it so poignant! It was an act of violence that Jesus did not instigate, did not resist, but endured peacefully–fully aware of what would happen to him!
January 5, 2009 at 0:03
Although I believe the Bible definitely holds self-sacrifice as an ideal (which in itself holds some non-violent ideals), I also think it does not rule out violence in general.
I appreciate the specific passages given, but if you look at the new testament as a whole, it is violent in nature. The very act of becoming a Christian, in my opinion, is violent. This act of denying what we see and feel in this physical world can be seen as an act of insanity without the lens of emotional fury. It is a passionate act that leads to a great change. A unmeasurable force that creates the destruction of what once was in order for something greater to be.
Violence in itself is not the problem. What you are talking about is hatred leading to the elimination of possibilities. A lesson can be violent, but if the outcome leads to enlightenment then it is desirable to the event never happening. Though if the act is violent but leads to nothing but destruction, then non-violence would be preferred because the emotional upheaval is not more beneficial than reason.
I think you are using the word violence too loosely. What you are talking about is physical destruction on a large scale, not violence. They are two very different things. I know this maybe arguing merely semantics, but it just seems you are using just one aspect of the word’s many possible usages to argue against it entirely. If one thing is to be created or changed, then something must be destroyed. Only God is above this law. Because we are not God, we must make decisions that lead to less than ideal outcomes. For an example, if one had to choose to allow one person to live or another to live. If there is no other option, then the act of physical destruction must take place one way or the other. The problem then lies in choosing between the outcome and which leaves greater ranges of beneficial possibilities.
This type of argument is often used to justify all war, and that is a incorrect application of it’s implications because the domain of the argument is not the same as the described situation. I think it would be more accurate to say that physical destruction on a macro level is not part of an ideal civilization, but on the micro level an unavoidable fact of our existence. The difference is the realm of possibilities. We do not have to participate in physical destruction on a level where so many other possibilities exist in order for cultures, governments, and people in general to survive under any situation. But other individuals must inevitably die in order for others to live. This seems to be the root of what the new testament is trying to get at in whole.
This might be too dense for what I am trying to relay, but I hope it sparks a new point of view to be seen. We have to choose the options in life that lead to the possibility of reconciliation over that of extinguishing possibilities, but when only two roads can be chosen from then we must choose only from what our preference is.
January 5, 2009 at 13:38
Reed:
You wrote: “The travesty of Just War theory is precisely this idea of virtuous violence. By outlining right conditions for Holy War, proponents elevated violence to the same Kingdom status that peace once held alone. No longer was nonviolence the sole ideal—it was dethroned by a certain type of violence that could justifiably be proven to lead to a certain type of peace.”
In my opinion, there are several conceptual problems with this conclusion. (I’ll have to set aside my historical questions since I simply don’t know enough about the Orthodox ethic of war to respond to Harakas.) Here they are:
1. In the just-war tradition, there is a difference between violence and force, which centers on moral intention. William F. Buckley once said that a man who pushes a little old lady into the path of an oncoming bus and a man who pushes a little old lady out of the path of an oncoming bus should not be equally criticized as men who push little old ladies around. Such moral equivalence underlies your notion of “virtuous violence,” in my opinion.
2. Just war and holy war are not the same things. The causes for which the state may engage in war, according to just-war doctrine, are secular. Holy war, by contrast, is war used in pursuit of religious ends.
3. No just-war theorist elevates the just use of force “to the same Kingdom status [as] peace,” if only because peace is the desired end and just force can be a necessary means. I think you’ve seriously misrepresented just war doctrine here. (By the way, for Augustine, peace was tranquilitatis ordinis, which was built on a foundation of justice. No justice, no peace.)
4. You seem to be confusing “nonviolence” with “peace,” another confusion of means and ends, in my opinion. Nonviolent strategies may lead to real peace, or they may not. But it seems to be a pretty serious conceptual error to identify peace with the absence of violence. Many parts of Saddam Hussein’s Iraq did not experience violence during his reign, but that’s not they same thing as saying they experience peace.
FWIW…
George
January 6, 2009 at 1:02
Road
I disagree that the New Testament is violent in nature. I touched on this in Part II of this current series. I think what you’re describing is inner, contemplative acts of God using violent imagery. This is dramatically different from violence between people and people groups. Likewise, the acts of God described in some of the apocalyptic literature in the New Testament are often seen as violent—but we forget that they are first acts of God. That means they are not instigated by people but in fact something that a nonviolent people can hope for from the God they serve.
I don’t believe nonviolence limits options—I believe it forces creativity! Sometimes violence is the easy option (“why talk to ‘em? let’s just kill ‘em” or “why should I press on? I’ll just off myself and be done with”). As soon as you remove this solution, suddenly people have to be a lot more creative with finding solutions to their problems.
George
I think you’re right to point out my inappropriate interchangeable use of terminology. “Just War” and “Holy War” are indeed different things and it was laziness on my part for glossing over the distinction. Likewise there is certainly difference between nonviolence and peace and I probably did a poor job of keeping a consistent division between them throughout the essay. (I wrote the thing at work, so gimme a break
However, I don’t think either of these shortcomings detract from my point.
I’ll reiterate that I think both the New Testament and the preconstantinian fathers overwhelmingly command an ethic of nonviolence. This command takes the form of peace-teaching as Kingdom Status both in the inner and communal life. Nonviolence isn’t the focus but both the tool and evidence of that Kingdom Status.
This teaching differs drastically from trying to discern what methods will best create peace. Violence may or may not bring about peace eventually but we were not commanded to bring peace through violence but peace through nonviolence. Whether or not nonviolent methods lead to real peace is irrelevant. We are commanded to obey Christ to radically, counter-intuitvely, and powerfully NOT resist an evil doer.
Augustine’s teaching that “without justice there is no peace” is fundamentally different from Matthew 5. Jesus taught that because there is injustice, you must be at peace.
PS: A term I’ve done my best to avoid up to this point has been “pacifist.” (I may have slipped a few times). I don’t like this term because I don’t think it represents Christ’s command to his disciples. For me, “Pacifism” implies apathy or powerlessness. But I think what Christians are called to is power through nonviolence—something exemplified well in a non-christian teacher, Gandhi. There are so many ways Christians can get involved with obliterating injustice without resorting to violence. I’ll touch on this in Part V.
January 6, 2009 at 9:56
Reed:
As I wrote above, my problems with your post were conceptual, rather than historical, since I don’t know enough about the Orthodox tradition to comment one way or another on it.
What book(s) would you recommend for a history of the fathers on peace/war issues? I have Roland Bainton’s classic work, but that’s about it.
I’m so tired (personally) of the debate over what the NT teaches (because I’ve been engaging in it since Gulf War I) that I haven’t posted any comments on your earlier stuff. I thought the same way you did once; I no longer do.
George
January 7, 2009 at 19:06
Reed,
While I have to admit I think you’re side stepping *just a little* on the first question, I see your point. It’s an extreme hypothetical situation that probably won’t ever exist, but can’t we have a logical debate and see who corners who? That’s nonviolent, right?
About the second, I feel almost stupid for posing the question now without realizing the obvious role that Christ’s loving, non-violent acceptance of capital punishment played in the situation.
January 7, 2009 at 19:21
I don’t agree.
Wouldn’t it be stupid to push for a brand of pacifism that poses serious problems if it were to actually happen?
I mean, do you strive for a sort of nonviolence that only works if everyone doesn’t do it?
If an argument doesn’t work ad infinitum, it doesn’t work.
January 7, 2009 at 21:39
Tony
I probably am sidestepping a bit–but it’s only because I think hypothetical situations like what you describe determine too many of our broader ethical principles. To be honest, I don’t know how I would react if people were systematically targeting Christians for extermination and we’d already exhausted every, last, nonviolent option. This is the kind moral puzzle that presents us with no easy answer.
The problem is that with all the moral puzzles the world actually DOES present us with, we are hardly ever faced with a situation so dire. For these real issues, I think it’s absolutely Christian to side with nonviolence.
The problem is that the historical precedent of western culture has been to take an extreme, hypothetical situation like the one we’re talking about and make an ethical decision (violence can be necessary). They then translate that same rationale into pressing, current issues (since violence can be necessary, this situation seems like a tuffy so it probably meets the requirements).
The working requirements shouldn’t be developed from hypothetical events.
Julia
Thanks for visiting the blog! (Tony, is this the Missus or just a coincidence?)
I think what I wrote above relates to your point. However, I’ll add that I think it’s very human to work with established ethical principles that by definition function best within certain parameters and not ad infinitum.
I draw a difference between the ideal (this must work ad infinitum) and the practice (which is tied to trying to live for the ideal in an imperfect world). The ideal of nonviolence–that peace should be desired, created, and defended, works for infinity. However, the practice doesn’t have to always work, in fact, by definition it will fail.
Early Christianity lived in this tension. They believed that the Kingdom of God was here but also that it was coming. I think grasping this tension is essential to understanding Christian Ethics. (I discuss it a bit in my posts about homosexuality.)
January 8, 2009 at 3:05
well it says love is peace.
love includes the truth. It doesn’t meen i love you so i will let you plunder and destroy countries. Violence can be needed to satisfy truth and is therefor needed for love. Sometimes.
peace and love,
http://toldandretold.com
January 8, 2009 at 16:27
First of all I must say that I am incredibly pleased that Julia decided to join our conversation. It has been a long battle for me an Tony to get our wives involved in our debates. Secondly, I would like to respond to Tony’s first point which was somewhat side stepped by Reed.
Tony I think that you hypothetical assumes a lack of faith. I believe that the Christian is called to extreme “pacifism” because of faith that God is in control. Look at Jesus for an example. It was quite logical for him to assume that the probable conclusion to his death on the cross would be an annihilation of his message. After all it seems he was leaving his message in less than capable hands. However, he seems to have acted out of a strong conviction that God would oversee the continuation of his message.If one can surmize, as Reed has, that the New Testament ethic is one of peace not violence, then the Christian response should be in spite of the seeming logical failure of the position.
Also I would like to point out that Gahndi lived out much of the pacifistic ideas that we throw out, in a very practical way. Everyone said that he would fail and that his ideology would be killed by those who were willing to fight for the opposite view. While it ultimately cost him his life, it ended up working. He never picked up a gun to fight for peace. He stood radically in defiance of human logic which told him to resort to violence. He proved it can work. It seems that violence to stop violence is often the easy approach. But it never works. We as Christians are called to a more radical approach. Fight violence with kindness. Stand firm but do not attack. Fighting fire with fire will never work. To truly bring about a broad incarntion of the kingdom of God radical pacifism is the only solution.
Jeremy
January 8, 2009 at 19:25
Reed,
Yeah, that’s the Missus. She’s incurably east coast, therefore blunt, but it’s something you get used to. Hell, by now it’s one of the things I love most about her.
We’ll keep reading to see how you wrap this up.
January 10, 2009 at 2:42
A central flaw with the JWT is its current inability to adequately discriminate between a just or unjust war; not because its tools and questions have gone awry and become distorted and unusable (although this is what has happened overall in its application when slimy politicians borrow its rhetoric), rather, it has everything to do with the indiscriminate and omnivorous nature of modern warfare — impersonal and imprecise airplane bombing, economic sanctions that intentionally target non-combatant, nuclear weaponry by definition is unable to make citizen v. soldier distinction (even the manufacturing of nuclear weapons is a suicidal risk to the country that develops them — that makes a ‘just’ war an impossibility.
Augustine was not creating an ethic for a nation that had the capability of wiping Africa off the face of the earth with one push of a button.
I have read that the economic sanctions applied to Iraq before the 2003 US-invasion had the unfortunate and tragic result of killing thousands of people even before the actual combat was underway.
January 10, 2009 at 10:23
D.R.Fuller III,
I think that is even a part of what Tolkien attempted to communicate by the mechanization of war in his Lord of the Rings. It gave expression to what he felt about his service in the Great War. To mechanize it is to make it impersonal and therefore so much easier and immoral.
January 10, 2009 at 19:30
DRF~
Any relation to Charles and Daniel Fuller? Fuller Theological?