CHAPTER XI

 

WAR AND THE PROBLEM OF EVIL:

A World without the Possibility of War

 

 

In the last chapter we saw how some claim that God should have created humans with less freedom so that we could not betray, torture, humiliate, rape and murder our fellow human beings. The possibility of waging war is one of these capacities that a good and omnipotent God should have withheld from man. Why did God give us the power to wage war, the capability of bringing so much destruction and sorrow to members of our own species? Why must so many of a nation’s youths be cut down just as they are beginning their lives as mature human beings? Although great profits are made by some in war and technical progress is impressive, the price paid is grossly unjust to the sacrificed victims. War is truly obscene.

To the kind of young man who has not experienced the carnage of a battlefield war can be attractive. Its defender might point to the way in which war intensifies the pace and significance of life to an all consuming degree. Variety, distraction, the witnessing of astonishing and adventurous events, insecurity and threat to one’s life--all these things do away with the dullness of life and heighten one’s sense of being alive. Joseph Campbell in his Power of Myth tells us how some men confess that they love war because it gives them the experience of being alive. They don’t get that experience by going to the office each day, but in war they suddenly are made aware of what it means to be alive.1 J. Glenn Gray speaks of the surge of vitality during an air raid and the glimpse of what we really are or might become, and how danger tests a man and has a limited purgative force that makes a man more human.2 The threat of danger and death in war makes a man insecure, but it gives him a greater awareness of his own life which he might lose at any moment. One might point to how war is necessary in order to develop the willingness to sacrifice without reflection or thought of personal loss. War corrects our peacetime view of ourselves as brave or cowardly and shows us who we really are. It is a preparation for the death which we all must face sooner or later. War releases social tensions that have been built up. It clarifies ideology, as it forces us to choose one of two sides to an issue. It gives many persons a reason for living, an opportunity to devote themselves to a cause. In war, research and creative activity are greatly intensified, unemployment is eliminated, the clever are given a chance to amass huge profits, the brave . . . to win fame. Some might look at it as a means to control population growth or a way whereby an older generation in power can maintain dominance over a nation’s youth.

Many of these arguments in defense of war are unconvincing. They are neither sufficient nor necessary conditions for the morality of war. None of these, however, nor all of them together, is sufficient to justify the massive destruction, suffering, death, and sorrow that war brings to one’s fellow human beings. The judgment that the above good consequences that follow upon war justify it is misguided. The goals might be worthy, but the means are improper and evil. That good can come out of evil does not make the evil good. True, there might be just wars. And yet, even in instances in which wars can be defended, we see regrettable human failure, a lamentable, disastrous lack of success in coming to grips with a pressing human problem. This often involves a failure to overcome ignorance, greed, expediency, and fanaticism, an unwillingness to compromise or to care for one’s fellowman, a willingness to sacrifice others for one’s own goals, and a serious failure to control what Jung would call the shadow dimension of our existence.

Many ways other than war exist for a man to distinguish himself. Heroes are possible in peace as well as in war. Facing up to the challenge of earthquakes, floods, tornadoes, physical accidents, disease, and help for those who cannot help themselves--all of these offer many opportunities for someone to become a hero. Raul Wallenbourg risked his life to save innocent Jews from the Nazis. Werner Forssman performed the first heart catherization on himself.3 Dr. Daniel Zagury injected himself with an experimental AIDS vaccine.4 We know that there have been world leaders who put their lives in danger as they embraced a position of peace. There are mothers who scrub floors just to earn enough to make life better their children. If a man wants to profoundly feel the surge of life, he can cast his lot with the risktakers. He can race cars, battle on behalf of the dispossessed or disadvantaged, or, like Mother Teresa, pick up the dead and care for the dying. If he wants to experience the excitement of the gambler, he can funnel his assets into a chancy but potentially lucrative business and live on the edge of a disastrous defeat or a tremendous success with its concomitant exhilaration. In a world at peace, there are plenty of possibilities of experiencing the emptiness and devastated emotions of defeat and the heady joys of victory. And such experiences are of greater value, for they are experiences that are freely chosen--one does not have to answer a draft call to engage in them.

The fact that in many instances war cannot be justified has led some to suggest that God should have seen to it that war, with all its violence and bitterness, was impossible or less intensive and destructive. Why did not the good God give the human race a less powerful freedom that would prevent us from waging war? Why does he allow us to hurt each other so terribly? Something seems wrong here. Below I will consider five possible ways in which this might be done, i.e. five possible worlds that some might claim that God should have made. I will conclude that each is unsatisfactory as a world that the Creator should have brought about, and that we do not rightly demand that a good God have done so.

The first alternative world would be one in which God makes all violence impossible. This would be difficult. While a world with no violence is conceivable it would be so different from our own world that it would be hard to see it as really possible (not merely conceivable). One type of non-violent world would be a static world, a world with no activity. Such a world is hard to imagine. The analogy to a painting or sculpture limps, for at times we call a painting good because it captures the movement of a living reality, or the spark of an engaging personality. An abstract scientific theory springs out of and expresses the dynamism of the physical world. Even mathematical theory has an inner dynamism. Although in a static world there would be no earthquakes, hurricanes, diseases, nor disappointments, there would also be no life, no love, no enjoyment, no morality, no sense of achievement. Nobody would want this kind of world.

In our own world, life lives on life; we cannot get away from destruction and death. Danger is part of life. At times we have to oppose the powers of nature as when we have to defend ourselves against a massive rush of water which threatens to drown us, or a roused hostile animal. Here we use physical force as we do when we burn oil or coal, cut down a tree or food crop, or slaughter a cow for beef. God eliminating the possibility of all violence is no solution to the problem of war.

The second alternative world would allow physical force to be used to defend ourselves from the forces of nature, such as high winds, earthquakes, harmful viruses, threatening beasts and reptiles, but make violence toward another human being impossible. Our world would be one in which we would not have to defend ourselves against a physical attack by another human, for no human could harm us in that way. Unless the animal world were drastically different from what it presently is, we would see violence done by one animal to another. We would know that we are able to use a lethal weapon to destroy some things in the universe, e.g. to defend ourselves from the attack of a bear or rattlesnake, or to shatter clay pigeons and targets with a gun. It’s just that we could not bring ourselves to fire, or the weapon would not work if we tried to destroy another human being. We could not forcefully damage his home, or take his property. This would immediately do away with the possibility of murder, rape, bodily assault, and the like. The weapons of war would be useless. Guns would not fire in a battle. Tanks might perform flawlessly on the proving grounds but break down and disintegrate on a real battlefield. An aircraft bomb-release mechanism would jam irreparably during an actual attack. Such a restructured world would be vastly different from our own. We would still know what violence is, but we would be confronted by the great mystery why we could not direct violence toward another human being, the law that it is impossible to succeed in doing something to physically harm another human being.

Such a state of affairs would be strange and puzzling. The man who hunts deer would no doubt see the possibility of aiming such violence at other animals. Of course, it is all too clear that humans are a kind of animal. Given the strong human tendency to actualize whatever we see as possible, the chances are that some humans would be strongly tempted to use that same violence against their neighbors.

The kind of world in which a human could use no violence against another would seriously impact our moral development. If God’s intervention was aimed at protecting all persons from harm, then much human action would come to a standstill, or we could never count on anything happening as we started a project. If that divine intervention consisted in preventing any action which harmed a fellow human being, then we could not really set out to do anything. Our legitimate projects could be blocked because of the unwanted effects they would cause to someone, we know not whom. Our moral life would be limited to thoughts and intentions, but no accomplishment. Moral evil might consist of wanting to harm others but not being able to. We would praise God for what he has given us, accept our fate, and perhaps achieve goals by prayer rather than work. How this would happen--the far-reaching consequences of such a world--boggles the mind. It is difficult to understand how anyone would present such a strange world as clearly better than our own.

Our own world, in which persons are allowed to exercise a genuine free will, appears more realistic, but contains the possibility that someone might harm us physically or morally. It strongly inclines us to develop a genuine concern for our neighbors. A world in which men could not harm each other would be one in which they had no strong responsibility for each other.5 Even a world in which humans could help but not hurt each other would not do, for in certain instances these overlap. Swinburne notes the possibility of your health being harmed if I withhold from you certain vitamins, or if I persuade your wife to live with me.

We know that it is possible that at times we have to defend ourselves from others who by irresponsibly exercising their freedom cause us unnecessary and undeserved suffering. We know, too, that the probability is high that what humans see as possible they will try to actualize, even though it causes harm. It appears difficult to preclude physical force and violence brought to bear on others.

Consider the following possibility: If an offender was brought into court and a judge rendered a decision against him, ordering him to pay us damages and he refused to do so, then what would be done next? If the court decreed that he should sell and vacate a building, and he refused, how would violence be avoided? What would we do if he responded as an enraged animal? Could we really escape without using force of any kind? I think not.

In the minds of many freedom is an important human goal, viz. the freeing of oneself from the constraints of the material world and from any unnecessary limits imposed by one’s fellowman. It is questionable whether humans would view as a better world one in which their freedom was so extensively curtailed--one in which they could not defend or express themselves--even though the aim was the elimination of evil.

In a world in which no human could physically harm another, a person could still harm and be harmed mentally. This could give rise to bitter complaints against the increasingly intense and eventually intolerable frustration that might arise when one cannot express physically one’s displeasure. Such mental states have led some persons to choose death rather than a life of slavery or indignity.

A world in which physical force could be used against the powers of nature and other animals, but not against the human animal, is a highly unlikely candidate for a world which the Creator should have actualized in place of our own world. Such a world is not a clear-cut-satisfactory alternative which the Creator should have brought about.

A third alternative world could take care of this difficulty--the frustrated desire to harm others--by making all injustice on the part of someone who would hurt us impossible. This would involve a kind of determinism as found in Antony Flew’s compatibilism. If we are right about our claim that Flew’s compatibilism is really determinism, then, according to him, God would be responsible for evils such as the holocaust, genocide, rape and murder. Flew’s objection to the good and all powerful Creator is that God could have arranged things such that man is truly free but always chooses what is morally right. Flew claims that God could have created a world in which humans were free but never sinned. They are still free, and hence, it is logically possible that a human be capable of sin and yet be protected by God from sin.7 The inference is that if this is possible, then the all powerful God should be able to do it, and if he does not do it then he is not good.

In response to this kind of objection we have noted Aquinas’s claim that a free being, even though not determined by a necessity of force, can be determined by a necessity of inclination and still be free.8 In this way, God is free even though he is necessitated to seek out and cannot not will his proper end, namely his goodness. God’s will, like any natural appetite, seeks out its end with necessity. The human will, likewise, is ordered to the highest good. While on earth, however, a person does not see clearly which particular goods lead to the highest good; in heaven one has that knowledge and sees clearly that God is the end to be loved above all else. This enables one to avoid sin while retaining freedom.

So Flew is right when he claims that a free human action is predictable, foreknowable, and explainable in terms of caused causes. However, such causes determining an action are metaphysically internal, rooted in a natural inclination. We cannot talk of humans being free and determined in this world, where our earthly status prevents us from seeing our goal clearly. The present earthly context leads us to mistake at times a particular good for the universal good. While freedom and determinism, by necessity of inclination, are compatible when one is in the presence of one’s proper goal, in our present life, where necessity of force applies, one cannot be both free and determined.

Secondly, when we talk in terms of what is owed to us in virtue of our nature, we are in the realm of real possibility. However, when we are concerned with something which is not due to us by virtue of our nature, we are in the realm of the conceivable. Such is the status of a creature having free choice naturally confirmed toward the good. God could give it, but it would be a free gift. If he did not give it, we would have no reason to complain; how can something be a gift if it had to be given?

If Aquinas is on the mark concerning human freedom, then Flew’s mistake is in demanding that the good and powerful God bestow upon humans a heavenly status.

To make all injustice on the part of those who would harm us impossible, God would have to create a world without the possibility of greed, ignorance, the excessive drive for power, stealing, cheating, lying, destroying another’s reputation, infidelity, and the like. God would see to it that no evil desires occurred in a man’s heart, that humans had no desire to harm their neighbors. But this presents a problem, for if we say that God should see to it that nobody cheats or steals or defrauds another, then again, we have a further limitation on human powers. We seem to be on a slippery slope to a very strange kind of world as we narrow the scope of human actions. Where will it end?

The above solution would extract a very high price of doing away with war. Human freedom would have to be severely downgraded or lessened. It is not that war is good, but that there is a strong suspicion that its possibility can only be done away with by God at the cost of a limitation on man’s freedom that would destroy human beings as we know them. The price to be paid and the impracticality of lessening human freedom perhaps can be seen in what happens when we limit the freedom of others in an effort to do away with evils of some kind. Men rebel against restrictions on what they can say and do; they rebel against price controls, embargoes, against limits on when and where they can travel, against constraints on what they can make and to whom they can sell it. They rebel against censorship of what they read and see, how they dress, with whom they spend their time, and the like.

Another questionable effect of such a world would be the downgrading of the value we give to a person who develops solid virtue and holds his or her desires in check. If it was metaphysically impossible for a person to do evil to his fellowman, then why should we give any credit to a person who respects his neighbor and treats him properly? Such a world would lack a precious value: proper respect and love for one’s neighbor, freely given, at times under trying circumstances. It can be claimed that a genuinely free human act which is good far surpasses in value an action that is good, but could not have been bad. A world without good actions freely done when they might just as well be evil actions would be a less human world. It would be a less caring and personal place, inclined toward coldness, loneliness and loss of dignity. If we remove the possibility of someone hurting us, then how can we appreciate his considerate care for us? Why should we look upon him as a good and warm person? How can we call him a friend?

A fourth alternative world would have God allowing some violence but interfering to stop it when it became too brutal. In it, God intervenes to stop the more horrible evil, such as the genocide and widespread slaughter of World Wars. Such a world would allow justified self-defense and even the just war. A person could physically defend himself from such evils as murder, robbery, and rape. Humans would know that they could physically harm their neighbor as well as the animals, but when things got too vicious, God would step in and stop the violence.

Although this world is more like the world as we find it and hence reasonably more realistic and attractive, it gives rise to difficult questions. What degree of allowed violence would be acceptable in this view? If the proposed better world allows some violence, we will come into contact with wayward and misguided persons who can do us harm, and we will use physical force to defend ourselves against them. To what degree could one defend oneself physically? To what extent could a country fight to preserve its integrity? What kind of war would God be expected to stop?

In a world in which God would allow some violence but would interfere to stop it when it became too brutal, how could we tell that God was acting in this way? What would be the criterion for discerning God’s interference? How do we know that God at present is not intervening to moderate the violence that humans inflict upon each other? We can certainly imagine worse scenarios than we experience today and be grateful for their not coming about. In the present world, we could imagine relationships deteriorating to global nuclear war with shocking extensive destruction of the human race. One could reasonably say that God has intervened to save us from such a catastrophe. Even in a frightful conflict at the present time, we cannot establish that God is not acting in the world to prevent even more horrible evils. It is hard to see how this difficulty can be overcome. Such a proposed world founders on the rocks of epistemological uncertainty.

A fifth alternative world would have God seeing to it that humans would be inclined away from violence and more strongly attracted toward peaceful solutions to human problems. This is a modification of the third proposed world in which humans have no moral failures.

One problem with such a proposal is suggested by Ernest Becker’s claim that the amount of violence is influenced by man’s irresponsibility. Becker, the cultural anthropologist and social theorist, agrees with Hocart, Rank, and Reich, that somewhere along the line man became excessively dependent upon external authority in his attempt to deal with evil, to fortify himself against evil and to strive for perfection that will qualify him for immunity even in worlds to come. The hero, in triumphing over disease, want and death, is the savior of mankind, someone who has delivered man from the evil which is the termination of life.

In the search for ideas and ideals enabling him to transcend death, man gave up to the state the pursuit of the hero status, his right to ritual, and the distribution of the earth’s goods.9 This resulted in a great increase in the power of the state and man’s trying to transcend death by merely obeying what the state told him to do. The state became the savior of humankind who delivers man from the evil of death. The state now is so powerful that man can become a hero only by following its orders.10 The problem is that the state and those who lead it make disastrous mistakes whose effects are all the more horrible because of advanced technical means of destruction. Citizens are led to see phantasies of evil or evil in the wrong places. Even though man has it in his power to avoid war, his condition leads him to act as if he is powerless to get rid of evils, and it disposes him to send his sons to kill other men on orders of leaders no more competent than he. He lets others make the life and death decisions, even though so much depends upon his own assumption of responsibility. It is not surprising then, that the elimination of starvation and brutality is bogged down in a bureaucratic maze and mucked up by greed and selfishness.

Consequently, there is reason to think that humans, in a sense, already have the capacity to lessen the amount of violence; we have it within our power to put a stop to the wars which we bitterly resent. We can choose to sacrifice or moderate our acquisitiveness on behalf of our neighbor’s welfare. Not that we must sacrifice our lives, but if we are so concerned with the massive suffering that war brings, we should be willing to accept less of the world’s goods in order that others might not only have the wherewithal to stay alive but also to live decently. One might argue that it is not even in the self-interest of those who have many of the earth’s blessings avidly to pursue and flaunt greater riches. Such a lifestyle tempts the less fortunate and morally weak to envy, bitterness, and violence. This is surely why some of the wealthy today keep a low profile--they hide their possessions and keep their comings and goings secret. Perhaps, when we foster the development of prosperity among the middle class in a developing country we must accept, in trade, bitterness and even violence on the part of the "have nots."

There is no evidence that anyone is compelled to demand the property of another under threat of force; there is nothing forcing a country to invade its neighbor. We do not have to embrace a lifestyle that commits us to amassing tremendous wealth by violently plundering a smaller, weaker neighbor. We do not have to be apathetic and niggardly toward the poor.

That the tendency to wage war is genetically programmed into human nature has not been established. It cannot be maintained that in the evolution of man there has been a selection in favor of aggressive behavior rather than other kinds, that war is caused by any one instinct or single motivation. Rather, a number of factors play a part in the development of a willingness to go to war: institutional authority and obedience, idealism, suggestibility, language, cost calculation, planning and information processing, indoctrination of both combatants and population.

Why should we complain that God should have made us with a stronger inclination toward peace when there is good reason to think that we have that potency already? Among us there are many unsung heroes who manifest that inclination, in addition to the virtues of compassion, forgiveness, magnanimity, hard work, fairness and the like. The problem is that there are too many others who act as if greed, vengeance, pride and infidelity are virtues, as if justice is determined by how powerful one is. It is not surprising, then, that at times some of us have to protect ourselves from the excessive demands of human failures. But it is human, not divine failure with which we have to deal. While some of us might be properly sensitive to the plight of their fellow human beings, many of us fall short when it comes to developing the virtues of justice, hard work, forgiveness, moderation, compassion, magnanimity, generosity, and the like. Our bodies are taken up with wonderful sense pleasures; our minds are on other things.

It seems clear, then, that the objection that God should have made humans more inclined toward peace is at least dubious. There is something wrong with the argument that blames God for things that man can handle if he truly cares, if he puts his mind to it. The problem is that we do not really care, or we do not care with genuine intensity.

The foregoing has presupposed that humans are morally allowed to defend themselves. This seems quite reasonable when we take into account the way humans have failed to respect the rights of others, from the harm to person and property they are wont to commit, from their greed and inconsiderateness. It is not that we should be quick to wage war or that war is not a prima facie evil, but the moral possibility of defending ourselves must be real. This is the only way to keep in check the wayward and misguided, whose capacity for bringing about harm is enormous. What has happened is that we have allowed this possibility of defending ourselves by means of violence to get out of hand. War shows us how far man can fall and how far he can rise, and that it is all due to his own willful decision.

The consequences of all this is that the foregoing five worlds which preclude the possibility or diminish the evil of war are at best highly questionable alternative possibilities that the Creator should have brought about. At worst they are failures. We should not call God less than good because he has not actualized them.

 

NOTES

 

1. Joseph Campbell with Bill Moyers, The Power of Myth, ed. Betty Sue Flowers (N. Y. Doubleday, 1988), p. 114.

2. The Warriors--Reflections of Men in Battle (New York: Harper and Row, 1967), pp. 12-15, 28-29, 48, 218.

3. Jay Katz, ed., Experimentation with Human Beings, pp. 136-172. Cf. Tom Beauchamp and James Childress, Principles of Biomedical Ethics, p. 495.

4. Philip J. Hiltz, "French Doctor Testing AIDS Vaccine on Self," Washington Post, March 10, 1987, p. A7. Cf. Beauchamp and Childress, ibid.

5. Richard Swinburne, "The Problem of Evil," Contemporary Philosophy of Religion, ed. Stephen Cahn and David Shatz (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982) pp. 3-19; p. 8.

6. Ibid.

7. Antony Flew, "Possibility, Creation, and "Temptation," The Personalist, Vol. 52 (1971), 111-113. Cf. also, H. J. McCloskey, "On Being an Atheist." J. R. Burr and M. Goldinger, ed. Philosophy and Contemporary Issues, 2nd ed. (New York: Macmillan, 1976), pp. 131-137.

8. Thomas Aquinas, De Veritate, Quaestiones disputatae, q. 22, art. 5.

9. Ernest Becker, Escape from Evil (New York: The Free Press, 1975), pp. 61-62.

10. Ibid., pp. 153-154.