There
is a wonderful irony in the fact that pacifists have long been seen as a threat
to society. Whether it was first-century Christians under the Roman Empire,
Anabaptists during the Reformation, or Quakers during the American Revolution,
the popular sentiment was that these folks were dangerous. Obviously it was not
that they presented any immediate physical threat—they are pacifists—but it was
because they undermined the social order by calling into question one the most
fundamental presuppositions of any state: justifiable violent force. After all,
what would happen to the stability of a state if this view was to spread and
everyone started behaving like these pacifists?[1] But pacifists tend to
reject this kind of teleological moral reasoning—they are usually absolutists,
not consequentialists. Indeed, it is because of my own absolutist position that
I reject the various forms of Just War theory and embrace a kind of pacifism. Primarily,
it is the viewpoint presented by John and Paul Feinberg in their book, Ethics for a Brave New World, which I
wish to critique. The Feinbergs present five different non-biblical arguments
that have been offered in favor of pacifism and seek to refute each.[2] While a few of their
arguments are unconvincing, it is not necessary to show that they all fall
short. It should suffice to show that at least one of them can succeed. Thus, I
hope to demonstrate, contrary to the Feinberg’s arguments, that there is in
fact solid philosophical ground for one to accept pacifism.[3]
The
strongest case for pacifism is based on the sanctity of human life—or as the
Feinbergs describe it, the sacredness of life. What is peculiar in their
critique of this view is that they seem to both embrace and reject
consequentialism. For example, the Feinbergs make the following claim: “Does
the principle that life is sacred mean nothing should ever be killed, or does
it require us to preserve as much life as possible? Pacifists hold the former,
non-pacifists hold the latter.”[4] That is, they clearly
recognize that pacifists hold to an absolutist position while non-pacifists
appear to have a consequentialist position. But just a few lines later they try
to fit pacifism into a consequentialist framework, describing life as a
non-moral good that must be preserved. They then reject this view, saying, “Our
problem with the argument understood this way is that it is based on a
consequentialist approach to ethics and is objectionable on that ground.”[5] This critique smells of a
straw man when they finally conclude that the consequentialist approach to
pacifism is impossible, because it “appears to encourage rather that discourage
killing.”[6] Indeed, this should have
been obvious from the outset, for pacifism, by definition, holds an absolutist
position on violence. Further suggesting that this is a straw man, they do not
provide any footnotes as to one who might actually defend this position.
More
problematic than the straw man is the fact that the Feinbergs have clearly
rejected consequentialism, which according to their own words, is the
justification for non-pacifist positions. Perhaps the Feinbergs believe that
their form of hierarchicalism saves them from consequentialism.[7] But, as it turns out, they
openly admit that their non-consequentialist view turns to consequentialism
when a really tough moral dilemma arises.[8] In fact, their entire
hierarchical model is subject to a situational understanding. That is, they
believe there is no way of knowing which moral obligation takes precedence over
the other except to consider the given situation. What else could the situation
reveal except what one anticipates the consequences to be? This seems like a
thinly veiled form of situational ethics.
Pacifism,
on the other hand, is rooted in strong moral absolutism. The Feinbergs do
consider an absolutist view of the sanctity of life, but reject it on the
grounds that it cannot withstand a moral dilemma. That is, they take their
hierarchical view (that there are moral dilemmas and when they arise there is
only one moral obligation) as one of the premises. For example, the Feinbergs
would suggest that there are situations where one must take a life in order to
honor some other moral obligation, such as self-defense or defense of a
defenseless third party. However, as stated above, this all presupposes a
hierarchical view of moral dilemmas. If it can be shown that moral absolutism
can survive a moral dilemma, then the Feinbergs objection fails. Thus, this is
what I shall attempt to prove.
Using
the language of the Feinbergs, the best way to describe the position I am
offering is a synthesis of non-conflicting
absolutism and ideal absolutism.[9] I am a non-conflicting
absolutist because I believe there is always a way to avoid the use of
violence. But I am an ideal absolutist, of sorts, because I believe that there
may be moral dilemmas where we may not perceive
any other option other than choosing the lesser of two evils. In such cases, I
believe choosing the lesser evil is indeed a morally reprehensible action. This
position may seem odd so please allow me to further elaborate this view.
First,
I reject the idea that moral dilemmas actually pit one evil against the other
and leave us with no other choices. I suppose you could call this, as Norman
Geisler does, a third way position.[10] As he describes it, “The
assumption is that if God commanded both, then He expects us to keep both and
He will see to it that we are able to keep His commandments without sinning.”[11] Thus, if I believe it is
clear in scripture that God commands us to not use violence, then it is always
wrong to use violence.[12] Therefore the position of
this third way holds that there are
no scenarios, no such moral dilemmas, in which it is justifiable to violently
take the life of another human being. There is always an alternative that
allows for one to honor all of the commands of God.
No
doubt this is hard for a Just War theorist to swallow. The desire is to
immediately draw up the most devastatingly painful moral dilemma one can
imagine and offer it as a counter-example.[13] “See,” they say, “you
certainly would use violence in this situation.” One problem with this response
is that these hypothetical situations can conveniently eliminate all possible
third options for the sake of their argument. It is not clear to me that these
situations will ever truly arise as they are presented. Furthermore, because
every real situation will be significantly more complex than we can imagine it
(or remember it, for historical examples are always over-simplified as well),
it is impossible to use a hypothetical moral dilemma to prove that there is not a nonviolent alternative in any actual
moment. Our imaginations are not powerful enough to accurately present the
options available to us in a real situation.
This
point about the weakness of our imagination is important to another aspect of
this argument. Namely, that it is possible in a given situation that one might perceive a real moral dilemma. That is,
though there is truly an alternative that honors all of God’s commands, one may
not be able to imagine the alternative and perceive that the situation presents
a real moral dilemma. This is because human reasoning and insight into God’s
will is broken—less than perfect. Here is where I see my view as a synthesis
between non-conflicting absolutism and ideal absolutism. The individual may
very well see a moral dilemma and the only action they are able to take, due to
a lack of imagined alternatives, is one of two evils. For example, if one were faced
with the perceived moral dilemma of killing their enemy or allowing their
friends and family to be killed, they very well may choose to kill their enemy
as the lesser evil. Indeed, without any other imagined alternatives, this is a
very likely outcome. Nevertheless, I believe killing remains an evil. In this
case, the evil act appeared to be unavoidable, and in some sense it was
unavoidable because the individual truly lacked the ability to imagine an
alternative.
Both
the Feinbergs and Geisler reject this view on the grounds that it misrepresents
the nature of Jesus. Geisler’s argument can be summarized as follows:[14]
P1) Christ is our moral example and we are
to act as he acted
P2) Christ faced all kinds of moral
situations and was tempted as we are (Heb. 4:15)
P3) Christ never sinned (cf. 1 Peter; 1
John)
C) Therefore, there are no situations where
a lesser evil is called for
However, the conclusion
does not follow because premise two overlooks an important difference between
Jesus and other human beings. Namely, that while Jesus was tempted, he was
without sin and did not have a sin nature. Rather, he always does the will of
his father and therefore knows his father’s will. While this is certainly the
way all humans ought to behave and potentially can behave, nevertheless they do
not. Because of sin, they are not aware of God’s will. Rather, humans suffer
some relational distance due to sin. The fact that Jesus was tempted in every
way does not require that he faced every moral decision with the same moral
deficiency and relational distance from God with which sinful human beings face
moral decisions. In fact, I think it is better to understand all perceived moral dilemmas as a
consequence of our sin nature. It is possible that Jesus faced all the moral
decisions humans face without perceiving moral dilemmas because he perfectly
knew the will of his father. However, it is important to note that knowing the
father’s will is not super-human, it is perfectly
human.
Here the third way
position actually comes to light. Jesus perfectly modeled the third way and did
so in a perfectly human way. Jesus simply walked through a mob of men wanting
to kill him; he understood the hearts of men with which he conversed; he knew
what the future held; he paid taxes with money from the mouth of a fish; he
miraculously calmed storms, healed wounds, raised people from the dead, and fed
hungry people. All of these things offer alternatives to various moral dilemmas
and they are not super human but perfectly human. If we could be more like
Jesus, I believe we would not perceive moral dilemmas, we would see powerful
alternatives that allow us to perfectly walk in the will of God.
Violence lacks imagination. It fails to walk in the steps
of Jesus. Dietrich Bonheoffer understood this very well. Even as a pacifist, he
could not imagine any other way to take action against the evils propagated by
Hitler other than to plot his assassination. He felt compelled to choose between
what appeared to be his only options, all of which violated his convictions.
Nevertheless, he took action and recognized that he would be sinning. In the
end, his plot failed and exposed the truly humble situation sinful human beings
are in—we cannot overcome evil on our own strength. Indeed, it has seeped so
deeply into human nature and society that we often cannot see any other way. This
does not mean evil ceases to be evil—rather, it evokes a desperate cry for
redemption and deliverance. We long, with all of creation, for the sons of God
to finally be revealed for what they truly should be: perfect like their
heavenly father is perfect.
[1]
This is precisely the concern of the anti-Christian philosopher Celsus, causing
him to complain, “If
everyone were to act as you [Christians], the national government would soon be
left utterly deserted and without any help, and affairs on earth would soon
pass into the hands of the most savage and wretched barbarians....”
Quote found in the online pdf version of Eberhard Arnold’s Early Christians in Their Own Words (Rifton: Plough Publishing
House, 2011), 80, http://cdn.plough.com/~/media/Files/Plough/ebooks/pdfs/e/earlychristiansEN.pdf.
[2]
John and Paul Feinberg, Ethics for a
Brave New World, 2nd ed. (Wheaton: Crossway, 2010), 36-37.
[3] It
is not the goal of this paper to fully refute the Feinberg’s scriptural
arguments. It is my view that answering the philosophical problems with
pacifism will be more compelling because Just War theorists, as I see it,
rarely have the stronger scriptural argument. Instead, they are able to appeal
to moral dilemmas that force intuitions to accept violent actions. It is from
this position that scripture is used to support a prior philosophical
assumption.
[4]
Feinberg, 642.
[5]
Ibid.
[6]
Ibid., 643.
[7]
Ibid., 38.
[8]
Ibid., 59-61.
[9]
Ibid., 36.
[10] Norman
L. Geisler, "Biblical Absolutes and Moral Conflicts," Bibliotheca
Sacra 131, no. 523 (July 1, 1974): 222. ATLA Religion Database
with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed January 19, 2013).
[11]
Ibid.
[12]
It is clear to me that this is an absolute command in scripture, though there
is not space to also make that case in this paper. Besides, as stated earlier,
it seems that Just War theorists rarely have the advantage in terms of
scriptural support; rather, it is the strength of their intuitively devastating
moral dilemmas that force people to find some scriptural support for the use of
violence. I believe if the intuitive strength of the moral dilemmas can
diminished, commandments such as the following will become more compelling: put
your weapons down (Matt. 26:52); do not
resist an evil person but turn the other cheek (Matt. 5:39); love your
neighbors and your enemies (Matt. 22:39, Matt. 5:44, Romans 13:9-10); do no harm to your neighbor (Romans 13:9-10);
bless those who persecute you, do not repay evil for evil, live at peace with
everyone, do not take revenge but leave it to God, sustain your enemies with food
and water, overcome evil with good (Romans 12:14-21); make peace and reap righteousness
(James 3:18); follow the example of Jesus and not retaliate or threaten (1
Peter 2:22-23).
[13]
This is essentially the way Jeffrey Peterson responds to John Howard Yoder’s
pacifism. See Jeffrey Peterson, "What Should Christian Do? Revisiting John
Howard Yoder's What Would You Do?." Christian Studies Journal no.
25 (January 2011): 61-77. Academic Search Complete, EBSCOhost (accessed
January 19, 2013).
[14]
Geisler, 225.
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