Some people seem to believe God prosecutes wars. And why shouldn’t they? So many wars have been prosecuted in His name or have claimed justification under the banner of faith. War and religion have such a troubling, unhappy shared history. But in most cases, it has been so hard for me to recognize a foundation in Jesus’ teaching or see God’s guiding hand in the reasons for the continual warring of mankind. And it so often troubles me now to encounter friends, even Christian friends, who are so eager, so ardent, to prosecute and defend our warring adventures. For me, the justifications, presumptions, and purposes have too often been questionable, unsettling, or wrong. (But how can they be wrong when God’s on their side?)
Other people believe we have a social obligation, if not a moral imperative, to impose our cultural and social values, even our form of government, on other peoples or nations. And they will search out justifications and means for becoming change agents, including force of arms. They accept only their definition of freedom and choice, and the legitimacy of lifestyles and government that resonate with them. They fail to recognize that even if another nation elects such a change in direction, it takes time and a process of social and economic evolution to move toward different values and notions of freedom, toward Western notions of democracy. And that change has to come from within. (But how can they be wrong when freedom and right are on their side?)
Then there are those desperate to move more quickly to take up arms to defend innocent peoples attacked and murdered by aggressor nations or oppressor governments. These are often the most heart-wrenching circumstances and dispiriting challenges posed. When do we come to the defense of a neighbor in the larger human community, wherever they may be located? When are we justified, even compelled, to intervene in the name of humanity, community and justice? And when are our good intentions and concerned haste misguided, naive, and wasteful sacrifices of our own resources and people? (But how can they be wrong when humanitarian good intentions and justice are on their side?)
In the face of those questions, I am compelled to ask these questions, as well: When are we justified in going to war at all? When is it acceptable and justifiable to initiate offensive actions, and how much aggression can credibly be argued as defensive? And if defending community and nation is usually justified, what about foreign neighbors or oppressed peoples? Then, under what circumstances do we acknowledge error and extricate ourselves? And under what circumstances, do we respond by saying, “Never again"?
Answers & What Informs Them
I cannot offer answers to these questions without conceding that they are informed by my faith understandings as well as pragmatic realism—and in most cases, they are not only compatible counsel, but have much in common. This should not surprise you.
You are likely familiar with the teaching on the good shepherd, a prominent teaching of Jesus that makes clear that the good shepherd protects and defends his sheep—every one of them—and in the process is ready to sacrificially give up his life for them. Although there could be a narrower point of view taken that the story only foreshadows His atoning sacrifice, and nothing more, that interpretation is far too limited and limiting.
An interpretation that denies the message of sacrificial defense of others would require a level of spiritual and community detachment inconsistent with the notion of a functioning community based on faith, hope and love, on support and trust. It would be inconsistent with any sense of responsibility and accountability for the defense of our families, communities and those in our charge. It would also suggest that the sacrifice of my Lord was not a worthy example to emulate to protect or save others. And if the story prescribes that a good shepherd should give up his life in defense of his sheep, how much more compelling the case and the virtue of giving up your life in defense of others—your family, friends or community. If there could be any further doubt, Jesus makes clear later in the same Gospel of John that, “Greater love has no one than this: that one lay down his life for his friends.”
Surely it is not hard, then, to see appropriate application of the story to any meritorious situation involving defense of those in our charge. The shepherd is easily seen as a parent or guardian, an organization or community leader, the leaders of states or nations, our elected congress and president. It is reasonable to understand the application to include as shepherds higher authorities leading or sending others in defense of the larger community. The sheep, in turn, are easily seen as members of families and organizations, the citizens of communities and nations, those under the charge or within the responsibility of others. But does that extend even to our foreign neighbors who we are also called to respect and love?
Jesus said we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, but then was challenged to answer the question, who is our neighbor? By way of consciousness-expanding example, He gave us the story of the Good Samaritan—a visiting foreigner who came upon a half-dead, beaten and robbed Jew in a dangerous situation. Other Jews, including a priest, would not venture in to save their brother. But the Samaritan, the foreigner, did venture in, risking his own life or well-being to save the abandoned Jew—and later even paid for his further care and recuperation. So, as a nation among nations, as a citizen of the world, who is our neighbor?
Iraq, For Example
At the risk of irritating or alienating some of you, I believe our venture into Iraq is instructive. Although I supported pursuing the enemy that attacked us, al Qaeda, into Afghanistan, and rode that wave of patriotism and defensive zeal into Iraq, it was soon hard for me to see the case, the defensive justification, for our offensive initiative against Iraq.
There was at best a highly questionable basis for arguing that our war on Iraq was defensive, that their weapons of mass destruction, or programs to develop them, so threatened us or the western democracies that offensive action was warranted. First of all, the intelligence and other evidence were always weak, and the WMD unsurprisingly turned out to be nonexistent. And the fact that we were not taking the same offensive action against North Korea and Iran—and did not against China, Pakistan or India—put the lie on that rationalization for war. Certainly, skeptically, one cannot avoid questioning whether the reason we have not militarily confronted Iran or North Korea over their developing nuclear capability, yet did Iraq, is because we took seriously the capability of the first two, but not Iraq. No, it is difficult to see Iraq or Saddam Hussein posing any real threat to the United States or the Western democracies.
And there was never any credible evidence that Saddam Hussein’s secular Ba’athist government materially supported or harbored al Qaeda or other radical Islamist terrorists. They are there now, however, attracted as to a magnet. But rather than a place to defeat al Qaeda, it has become the Islamist terror group’s most effective recruiting and training ground, drawing inspired young Muslims from far and wide.
Was there a compelling argument that we were going in to defend or save the Iraqi people—our foreign neighbors—from the murderous, oppressive despot, Saddam Hussein? It would seem unlikely. Isn’t it clear that if it were merely a matter of ousting malevolent, murderous despots, we would be waging war against tyrants across the globe? But we haven’t the resources, capability or defensive interest to take on that charter, even if we were so unwisely inclined. More than unwise, it would be folly. And we and the world have always understood that. So that puts the lie on that rationalization for the Iraq War, as well.
But does that adequately answer the question of whether the long-suffering Iraqi people are our foreign brethren to be saved or defended? Even if the pragmatic question of whether we could defend or save them were left open, the revealing first question is this: who are the Iraqi people to be saved, and from whom? Are they each of the three separate and long-contentious sectarian factions, the Sunnis, Shiites and Kurds—all of whom want their separate, self-governing states—or all of them together? And given their long history of disputes and armed conflicts among themselves, who are they to be defended against or saved from, Saddam Hussein’s Ba’athists, al Qaeda, or—as is now so distressingly clear—each other? Too often we find our principles unavoidably frustrated or compromised in the gray areas of complicated cultures and history, realpolitik, and pragmatism, don’t we?
And so I can only surmise that the initiative against Iraq was more an opportunistic one, and the principal reasons that motivated it were not defensive in nature (and were unlikely to find approval with the American people if made known). Some claiming inside knowledge have suggested the defensive move against al Qaeda into Afghanistan set the occasion and provided cover for Mr. Bush to settle unfinished national and personal business with Saddam Hussein. Also troubling are reports claiming we had worn out our welcome in Saudi Arabia, and so used the opportunity and cover to try to secure Iraq as a friendly base of operations in the Middle East.
Regardless, whatever it was, it was not defensive in the sense that it related in any way to the 9/11 attack on the US or pursuing the attackers, however reasonably defined. It was not done at the invitation of the Iraqi people—or with the support of the United Nations, or even many of our traditional allies. And since deposing Saddam Hussein, the breadth of our welcome has grown razor thin with the resulting escalation of sectarian conflict and violence. Our image is tarnished. Our prestige and respect in the world have suffered; our power and influence are more suspect. And the body count continues to rise, ours and theirs.
Rethinking Next Steps
So what now? Neither pragmatic secular analysis nor the Bible has clear, unequivocal answers for every discrete situation. But there are always greater principles and lesser principles, broader, guiding directions and narrower ones. Consider Jesus’ advice when he first sent out the seventy followers “as sheep among wolves.” He admonished them to be “shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves… to beware of men...” And He cautioned them against presenting their pearls—the best, the highest they have to offer—before those who would destroy or dishonor them.
True enough, this teaching is not specifically about when a warring action is appropriately defensive rather than offensive, or whether a foreign person or nation is a “neighbor” to be defended or saved. What it does clearly relate, however, is the priority on being careful, wise, and self-protective—yes, self-defensive—when dealing with the people, cultures and circumstances in the world outside our community or nation. It clearly indicates that we are to avoid unwisely placing our people or resources, our beliefs, ideals or values, at risk of harm or dishonor by those that do not understand or share them.
And yes, we must be prepared to help the innocent foreign nation under meritorious circumstances, but also be careful of whom we approach to help—and how—based on the realities of the “helping” situation. We have to be constantly mindful that both God and the wisdom of the world speak to us through all the people and circumstances of life—and we are unwise if we do not take counsel from them.
We, the American government at least, have erred too much on the side of being naive, even foolish—and arrogant and presumptuous, no doubt—rather than thoughtful and worldly-wise in our occupying venture into Iraq. And if that is so, then Jesus likely would have advised that we should now take an honest assessment of the situation and the other parties, and acknowledge that it was not a place we should have entered, not a cause we should have undertaken. We should then “go out of that…city” and as we go we should “shake off the dust of [our] feet”—that is, call it and treat it as a cause not justifying the sacrifice of the best we have to offer: our ideals, our honor, and the lives of our people. And, for its part, Iraq didn’t deserve the worst we had to offer: war, disorder and heightened sectarian conflict resulting in death, loss of homes, friends, family and hope.
The sectarian factions of Iraq were not ready to join together to establish and defend representative, pluralistic democracy. It was thrust upon them—and for questionable reasons. They did not yet have the cultural, economic and legal foundations, the history, social values and resolve to make it work. They were a forced cobbling of sectarian factions who did not even want to be a nation together, and were held together only by the force of a brutal political dictatorship. Functioning democracy once established and aged is a strong and resilient way of governance and political life. But in the process of its making, it is a fragile philosophy, a vulnerable process of government, economic and social life that takes time and the right circumstances to evolve. These were not those circumstances.
When I first found myself witlessly carried along from Afghanistan to war with Iraq, I failed to consider sufficiently the guidance of my faith, just as I had failed to understand sufficiently the distinguishing facts, the regional sectarian and geopolitical realities, and the resulting lack of wisdom in pursuing that unfortunate adventure. But it all soon became quite clear. And more, it now appears quite unlikely Iraq will become a functioning, Western-style democracy anytime soon. Neither is it at all likely to provide the US a secure military base for operations in the Middle East.
We have opened wide this Pandora’s Box, and the sectarian conflict unleashed now follows its own regrettable course. But yes, we have a reasonable duty to help mitigate the harm done—diplomatically, through mediation and financial aid, through a leadership role for the U.N.—but not with the vain sacrifice of more American lives. Our occupying military presence can only continue to complicate the situation and further delay its ultimate resolution.
It would appear the only reasonable and helpful contribution we can now make is to join with the U.N.—and in consultation with other nations in the Middle East region, to be sure—in brokering a partitioning of Iraq back among its constituent sects. There are indications that once a timely plan and schedule for our departure is set, the sectarian parties are likely to be more serious about good-faith negotiations. This is understandable since they will no longer have us in the middle to be influenced against or for one side or the other—and to keep funding it all.
But such a partitioning could only work if each of the three separate groups would take with them a negotiated participating interest in a pan-Iraq oil revenue-sharing agreement audited by the U.N. As to al Qaeda-Iraq, it is likely the Shiite and Kurdish militias would eliminate them in their territories in due course—and there is evidence that the mainstream Sunnis might do the same. But regrettably, partitioning is not now on the table, and it has no visible champion.
So, absent such a partitioning agreement, the sectarian factions in Iraq and their regional sponsors will doubtless continue to intrigue and war against each other as they have done for centuries. But, yes, this could be contained, limited somewhat for some time, by our willingness to incur the cost—in financial, geopolitical and human terms—of continuing our occupation of Iraq. And then, only as long as the dominant Shiite militias and the Sunni factions continue to see their interests served by their temporary cease fires with U.S. forces and each other.
Meanwhile, the Bush administration—nothing if not obstinately consistent—still harbors intentions of negotiating a continuing, long-term role of just that sort, one which also might provide the basis for the coveted military base and logistical staging area they want so badly in the Middle East. And cost—cost of any type, apparently—just does not seem to be a factor. It all appears a misguided cobbling together of obsolete elements of cold war thinking, and the presumptuous, ill-informed cowboy-style foreign policy now so aptly called the Bush Doctrine.
But regardless of the term of our folly, whether we set a plan for withdrawal now or only after more pain and loss, only then are Iraq’s sectarian factions likely to work out their differences and sort out their territory and interests. As was the case among the peoples of the former Yugoslavia, you can only keep an oppressive or coercive lid on historical rivals or enemies sharing the same space for so long. The evolution of their geopolitical relationships can be advanced only in the context of their own identity and interests—and by their own efforts. And, yes, unfortunately, that could be a protracted and bloody process. But the only role we can reasonably, effectively play is that of invited arbiter. And even then, we can act credibly and effectively only as one among others under the banner of the United Nations.
So lets be real, please. Our American interests, ambitions and commitments—and our next steps—must be better informed by reality, reason and a more modern sense of protective self interest. And they now suggest quite clearly that we must change our role and start removing our forces from Iraq—and just as timely and prudently as we can while protecting our logistical systems, our resources, and our people. I think most of us now understand that it is long past time to shake the sand off our feet and start bringing our sons and daughters home.
Postscript: Afghanistan, Western Pakistan, Still There
But we also understand that many or most of our troops—of those who do not remain in Iraq, that is—will simply be reassigned to another battlefield. Regrettably, there remains unfinished and still justified the pursuit of our attackers into Afghanistan and western Pakistan.
What was clear to some at the time is now painfully clear to all. Before we were able to complete our primary mission to eliminate the operational center and symbolic heart of al Qaeda—and importantly, Osama bin Laden—we diverted most of our military attention and forces to Iraq. And it has been, as we’ve seen, an error of historic proportions, and an unwarranted and wasteful depleting of American resources and lives.
Meanwhile, the al Qaeda leadership and their Taliban sponsors have reestablished themselves and are again back in business in Afghanistan and western Pakistan—while the nuclear-armed Pakistani government grows notably less stable. And in so many ways, America and its people are now war-weary. We lack the same will, the same commitment to complete the only mission that was justified and mattered, the mission that should have been successfully concluded years ago, the mission that still must be faced and fought to its conclusion. And occupying its appropriate earlier place and time in history, we find only the regrettable legacy of our misdirected, self-defeating war in Iraq.
But when our basic mission is completed, when al Qaeda’s principal leaders are eliminated and the Taliban has been defeated, surely there is no wisdom to be found in another occupying role for our troops in Afghanistan or Pakistan. There is no wisdom in another interminable guerrilla war with the scattered remnants of the Taliban or other sectarian insurgent groups. Surely our lessons in Vietnam and Iraq, and the clear if ironic lessons of Russia in Afghanistan, cannot be lost on us. And as unlikely as it sometimes seems, the Afghan and Pakistani armed forces must then diligently carry out those roles.
For those clear reasons, we should depart Afghanistan and Pakistan as soon as our basic mission is completed, as soon as we have made clear our commitment to rightly—defensively—and consistently respond in force by pursuing and neutralizing those who attack us. And when we do finally bring our sons and daughters home, we must still be prepared to pursue and fight again those set on our destruction.
First written: September 2006, updated February – March 2008
© Gregory E. Hudson 2007
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