A Response to First Things Editorial
"One matter that has been muddied in recent decades should now be
clarified: those who in principle oppose the use of military force have
no legitimate part in the discussion about how military force should be
used." Silenced. I have been silenced and I find it tempting to
accept being silenced. September 11, 200l, and its aftermath have filled
me with a saddened silence. Every thought I have about that terrible
day seems to suggest a certainty I do not possess.
However, the First Things editorial "In Time of War"
has made it impossible for me to remain silent. The gross and distorted
characterization of pacifism as well as the defense of the American response
to September 11requires a response. Given my identification with First
Things, for me to remain silent cannot help but suggest I accept the
position taken in "In Time of War" when the exact opposite is
the case.
I find it almost beyond belief that the Editors resort to the Niebuhrian
distinction between nonviolent resistance and non-resistance in order
to silence the pacifist voice. Of course, they may respond that they
say pacifists only have to be silent about the use of military force.
But that presupposes a strong distinction can be drawn between politics
and war--a distinction that would force pacifists into the kind of gnosticism
they condemn. Indeed the suggestion that nonviolence is, like celibacy
and poverty, a form of monasticism is meant to rob Christian nonviolence
of any political significance. I believe there are significant similarities
between nonviolence, celibacy, and poverty, but I do not think those similarities
mean that those who embody them must lose the moral and political voice.
I feel sure that the Editors would not underwrite the oft made complaint
that celibate priests have nothing to say about marriage.
John Howard Yoder spent a lifetime trying to convince Mennonites they
should not accept the Niebuhrian "compliment"--i.e., absolute
pacifists are to be admired as long as they acknowledge they are politically
irresponsible. In essay after essay and book after book, Yoder patiently
developed a Christological account of Christian nonviolence that refused
the Niebuhrian distinction--a distinction that has no exegetical basis--between
nonviolent resistance and non-resistance. The title, The Politics
of Jesus, is a refusal of the Niebuhrian attempt to make Jesus' "ethic"
nonpolitical. In the "Epilogue" to Paul Ramsey's Speak Up
For Just War and Pacifism, I challenged Ramsey's contention that Niebuhr's
distinction was simply a given needing no justification.
Of course, the Editors may respond they are unpersuaded by Yoder's criticism
of the Niebuhrian distinction; but at the very least they owe us some
account of why they are unpersuaded. They may respond that you can only
do so much in an editorial, but if a pacifist so crudely characterized
just war theories, I suspect the Editors would object. In Nevertheless
Yoder distinguished nineteen different forms of pacifism. In When
War Is Unjust Yoder provided one of the most thorough analyses of
the varieties of just war reflection we have. One might at least hope
that advocates of just war, even in an editorial, might return the favor
by indicating that their account of pacifism is contested.
Moreover, the Editors owe us an account of how they can use Niebuhr's
distinction between nonviolent resistance and non-resistance without also
accepting Niebuhr's Christology (or lack of a Christology) as well as
his understanding of politics. Niebuhr was quite clear: Jesus was an
advocate of non-resistance. That is why Christians must leave Jesus behind
when they come to the political realm. They must do so because politics
names the order of disguised violence. The most one seeks in the realm
of politics is the most equitable balance of power. At best Jesus' ethic
of love stands as a judgement on every accomplishment of justice. But
any attempt to realize the disinterested love symbolized by the cross
in politics indulges in utopianism that only makes politics more violent.
For the Editors to relegate these serious Christological issues to the
fatuous question "What would Jesus do?" is either stupid or
dishonest. They know well the pacifism I (and John Howard Yoder) represent
is at least as critical of liberal pacifism as was Niebuhr. They know,
moreover, that the real question is not "What would Jesus have us
do?" The real question is how we should live given what God has
done through the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I do not believe
that pacifist and just war advocates must necessarily answer that question
differently. Christian advocates of nonviolence and of just war believe
that through the cross and resurrection we have been given the time, the
patience, faithfully to follow Christ by refusing to use evil means in
the name of a good cause.
Indeed I hope that advocates of just war are as offended by the characterization
of just war in "In a Time of War" as I am at the Editors' understanding
of pacifism. The Editors seem to assume that some neo-realist account
of international conflict is compatible with the just war position. Whether
that is the case is at least open to serious doubt. In his The Just
War Ramsey struggled to show that his account of just war was not
only compatible with but presumed a world described by Niebuhr's realist
account of the politics between nations. I think there are serious reasons
to think Ramsey was not successful. But at least Ramsey struggled. The
Editors of First Things, captured as they are by their enthusiasm
for destroying what they consider an unambiguous evil, are sublimely untroubled.
For example, the Editors acknowledge that the U.S. may have to make alliances
with "repugnant tyrannies" but do not explain why that does
not entail a form of consequentialism they normally find "repugnant."
They say that war is hell, that some injustices may happen, but for some
reason that does not force them to consider whether the description of
this war as just needs to be called into question. (For a war to be just
do all the criteria need to be met?) Rather all we need to do is make
sure we know that if such acts occur, they be acknowledged as wrong.
They also suggest that the Bush administration will some time in the future
need to say what the purpose of the war is as well as what constitutes
a "terminal point." But if a war is to be just, the purpose--which
is necessary so your enemy will know the conditions for surrender--must
be stated at the beginning. Asking the Taliban to turn over bin Laden
comes close to naming such a purpose. A war on terrorism does not.
I fear the Editors continue a habit they demonstrated in their support
of the Gulf War. They assume the just war criteria are a check list for
evaluating whether a conflict can be described as just. But as Ramsey
insisted, just war is not a set of rules to be applied, but an institutionalized
set of practices to determine whether a conflict is appropriately described
as war. A conflict which is not just must be described in some other
way than with the honorific description, war. At the very least the Editors
owe us an account of when we might have to contemplate surrendering because
a conflict could not be fought justly.
Any answer to this challenge must begin by identifying who the "we"
is who would be making such a judgement. I fear the "we" of
"In a Time of War" is the American "we." They quote
President Bush that "the inescapable fact is that they are our
enemies" with approval. Indeed they even suggest that anyone who
might question the Christian and American "we" is a "gnostic"
seeking to flee time and space. The refusal to recognize that Christians
are Americans is an attempt to avoid our duty. Of course they quote the
Letter to Diognetus to suggest appropriate humility to ever get
right what Christians owe to Caesar, but they fail to indicate any concrete
political position Christians must take that would give expression to
such "humility."
I simply cannot comprehend their celebration of the new patriotism occasioned
by September 11, 200l. Even if they think the bombing strategy in Afghanistan
respects the just war commitment to begin with the least violent response,
surely it is the case that the appropriate mood of the American people
should be remorse. What a horror it would be if the nation is morally
to be renewed by war. Surely a nation capable of fighting a just war
must be one that does not need to find its moral substance through war.
Is the American response to September 11, 2001, a confirmation of Hegel's
suggestion that bourgeois states periodically need to be renewed through
war?
It is hard not to respond to September 11, 2001, without using the event
to confirm one's prior judgements about what is wrong or right about America
or, more globally, "the world." I continue to worry that those
who have criticized the war, and I count myself among them, have engaged
in responses meant to confirm our views held prior to September 11, 2001,
about what is wrong with America. No doubt much criticism or praise of
American foreign policy that provides a context meant to help us understand
"what happened" can be helpful. Yet I think it wise to refrain
from "explaining" what happened. We are too close. To suggest
as the Editors do that we are facing the beginning skirmishes in a war
of civilizations is to say more than we know. That is particularly the
case when they accept the liberal story of the wars of religion as the
legitimating narrative for the nation state. There is, moreover, a certain
irony in the Editors' use of September 11, 2001, to attack multiculturalism
and the way of life associated with that "style of life" just
to the extent that the "terrorists" share those judgements.
My criticism of the "we" of "In a Time of War" will
be dismissed as but another example of my anti-Constantinian rant. I
am quite willing to acknowledge that "In a Time of War" is as
clear an example as I could wish of the kind of Constantinianism I have
often criticized. But I am quite well aware that Constantinianism comes
in many shapes and sizes, some with which I have great sympathy. The
issue, as has often been pointed out to me in defence of Constantinianism,
is whether Christian support of the neighbor compromises the church.
At the very least "In a Time of War" fails to suggest how the
church maintains its independence. After all, the rebirth of "religion"
in public life is not in and of itself a "good thing"--at least
it is not a good thing if you have learned to distrust the apologetic
strategies of Protestant liberalism.
Which finally brings me back to the silence that continues to envelop
my life after September 11, 2001. September 11 has made it clear to me
that this "nonviolent thing" is not just another idea. I feel
much like the uneducated fundamentalist Mississippi preacher, who not
knowing any better, accepted African Americans into his church. Beaten
by the Klan, he confessed to a friend that he had learned there was a
lot more to the "race thing" than just race. I am being taught
that there is much more to this nonviolent thing than just nonviolence.
My life may be changed. Should I, for example, continue to be identified
as a member of the Editorial Board of First Things? If "In
Time of War" constitutes the perspective of this magazine, should
the Editors continue to list me as a member of the editorial board of
First Things? Surely the position taken "In Time of War"
comes close to implying that the pacifist refusal to respond violently
to injustice makes us complicit with evil and injustice and, therefore,
immoral.
These are serious matters that are not just about a magazine, but friendship.
One of the reasons for my silence is the realization that my commitment
to Christian nonviolence at this time cannot help but change and perhaps
even end friendships. I need all the friends I can get. I have many
friends who have criticized me for being associated with First Things.
I am obviously not a neo-conservative. I am not even a theo-conservative.
I have, however, supported First Things because I believe the magazine
has been a venue for some of the best theological journalism available.
We are in Father Neuhaus' debt for all he has done to make First Things
and the seminars associated with the Center a reality. Moreover, anyone
who has attended the Board meetings of First Things knows that
the Editors of the magazine are generous in their willingness to entertain
positions not their own. That this essay appears in First Things
is a confirmation of that policy. But that is exactly why I am not sure
how I should understand my relation to First Things after "In
a Time of War."
"In a Time of War" makes clear that the Editors regard the
Christian nonviolence I represent as at best "a reminder" to
those who are about "being responsible." I may be tolerated
because of my theological commitments, but my pacifism can only be regarded
as an aberration which is best ignored. The arguments Yoder and I have
made in an attempt to show how Christian orthodoxy and nonviolence are
constitutive of one another are quite simply not taken seriously by the
Editors of First Things. Or at least they are not taken seriously
if "In Time of War" indicates the best thinking of the Editors
of First Things. I did not expect nor do I expect the Editors
of First Things to take a pacifist stance, but I confess the confident
arrogance, their lack of any sadness that should accompany the use of
violence, fills me with sadness.
I have been honored to be claimed as a friend by many associated with
First Things. I do not desire to lose such friendship. But "In
a Time of War" raises fundamental issues that cannot be ignored.
I have no use--nor do I think my friends at First Things have any
use--for superficial friendships. "We are in deep disagreements
but we are still friends" is a possibility, but may also be an invitation
for confusing "friendliness" with friendship. If friendship
is an agreement in judgements, then there are clearly times when friends
cannot and should not remain friends. I do not yet know if "In a
Time of War" constitutes such a time, but I cannot exclude the possibility
that this may well be the case. That possibility fills me with sadness
... and silence.
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