The ethics of war

Second edition

A. J. Coates

• Publisher: Manchester University Press
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9781784991333
• eBook ISBN: 9781784996024
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literary Criticism in Poetry
• Index: Literature

The ethics of war explores the moral limits and possibilities of conflict. The argument proceeds from a just war standpoint which balances rules or principles against the moral capacities and dispositions of belligerents and the particular circumstances in which they act. In this enlarged second edition, a new introduction reflects on the impact of changes to just war thinking and to the practice of war since the book's original publication. The common criticism that traditional just war theory is incoherent, outmoded and in need of radical revision is resisted, and instead, a case is made for an ethics of war rooted in the historic tradition of just war. The concept of just war is compared with realism, militarism and pacifism; the principles of just recourse and just conduct are examined with the aid of real life examples; and a new third part addresses some of the ethical problems raised by terrorism and counterterrorism.

Part I

Images of war

1

Realism

Realism resists the application of morality to war. Such resistance is typically part of a more general moral scepticism that is applied not just to the extreme circumstance of war but to international relations in general. The reason for this resistance is twofold. In the first place, it springs from the conviction that the reality in question is morally intractable, the dynamics of international relations and war being seen to confound most, if not all, attempts to apply an alien, moral structure to them. Secondly, and more urgently, it arises from the fear that the very attempt to impose a moral solution has tragic consequences. Not only does the attempt fail, it fails dangerously.

One of the most well-known and influential expositions of realism occurs in E. H. Carr’s classic work The Twenty Years’ Crisis (1981), first published in 1939. The point of origin of the book is a criticism of the assumptions that were seen by the author to have underpinned much of the foreign policy of the Western powers in the interwar period and to have lain behind such doomed initiatives as the League of Nations. In the book Carr argues that for all our sakes the realist perspective must come to inform (though not to monopolize) the conduct of international relations. Conversely, we require emancipation from a persistent ‘utopianism’ that distorts our understanding and corrupts our practice. Combating such utopianism is the declared objective of a book that was written ‘with the deliberate aim of counteracting the glaring and dangerous defect of nearly all thinking, both academic and popular, about international politics in English-speaking countries from 1919 to 1939 – the almost total neglect of the factor of power’ (Carr 1981, Preface to Second Edition). It is in the systematic neglect of the factor of power (to which a rationalistic faith in ‘the compelling power of reason’ gives rise) that ‘utopianism’ is seen principally to consist.

The meaning and the purpose of realism are revealed in this, its negative image. Without the antithetical notion of ‘utopianism’ (or of its synonyms ‘moralism’, ‘idealism’ and ‘legalism’) realism would be largely unintelligible. Realism is a reaction against the perceived and powerful tendency to apply, or to seek to apply, moral norms and prescriptions to the international domain with scant regard for the innumerable constraints that the realities and complexities of power impose. Utopianism has grossly inflated expectations about the world of international politics. Wedded to an abstract image of a just and perfect order, it concludes that the world at large must find its ideal constructs irresistible.

In utopianism or moralism two mutually reinforcing tendencies are seen at work. Firstly, the ends that are sought are invested with such compelling moral force or attraction that little thought needs to be given, and little thought is given, to the means of their attainment: ‘The utopian, fixing his eyes on the future, thinks in terms of creative spontaneity’ (Carr 1981, p. 11). Secondly, the moral puritanism associated with the self-conscious pursuit of lofty ideals breeds such contempt and hatred for the disorderly world of the present that it rules out the use of those imperfect and tainted instruments that normal diplomatic practice finds indispensable. From a utopian perspective a perfect end must be matched by perfect, morally unambiguous and unimpeachable, means. The ‘instrumentality of evil’ is a concept that is morally abhorrent to the utopian, but is central to most forms of realism.

‘Utopianism’, when applied to what realism portrays as the irredeemably hostile environment of international relations, is not simply false – it is dangerous. Blinded by its vision of a perfect world (or at the very least of a world that is just as amenable to moral regulation as the world of interpersonal relations), it ignores or treats with open contempt the intricate and delicate mechanisms whereby international order of an inferior but nonetheless real kind is sustained. Activated, perhaps, by the purest of motives, ‘utopians’ are seen to threaten the fragile construct in which an imperfect peace (the only peace on offer) is seen to consist. Their ostensibly (and always ostentatiously) ‘moral’ and ‘pacific’ interventions are thought to increase the likelihood both of war’s occurrence and of its greater intensity and longer duration when it occurs.

The argument between realist and utopian is often acrimonious. The utopian claims the moral high ground, accusing the realist of moral duplicity and even of rank immorality, while the realist regards the utopian or moralist at best as a dangerous if well-intentioned fool, at worst as a self-indulgent hypocrite, more concerned with the preservation of a spurious moral purity than with the avoidance of conflict or the alleviation of human distress. The frequently voiced accusation of moral duplicity or double-dealing is something the realist has learned to live with, even perhaps to welcome. Since, according to realism, international relations are not amenable to moral determination, moral inconsistency is in this case not a vice but a virtue. The consistency realism does uphold lies in the persistent recognition of the possibilities and constraints of power and the continual striving to preserve that balance of forces that brings some semblance of order to an anarchic and, therefore, naturally bellicose world. If this results in ‘moral duplicity’, then so be it. The moral opprobrium that is heaped on the realist as a consequence is a price willingly paid for safeguarding the state’s interest or, more broadly (and, morally speaking, perhaps more defensibly), for making the world a safer place.

This approach to international relations is much in evidence in an article about the First Gulf War and its aftermath written by Henry Kissinger, the former US Secretary of State and one of the principal theorists and practitioners of realism in the period since the Second World War. While admiring some aspects of US policy in the Gulf, in particular the effective management of the allied coalition during the crisis, Kissinger regrets the creeping idealism that he detects in postwar presidential rhetoric about the creation of a new world order. In his view US foreign policy has suffered more than most from the affliction of idealism. He cites the former president and arch-idealist, Woodrow Wilson, who argued that peace depended ‘not on a balance of power but on a community of power … [in which] … Nations agree that there shall be but one combination and that is the combination of all against the wrong-doer’ (Kissinger 1991). As a moral aspiration, Kissinger suggests, this has a certain plausibility. Unfortunately, it runs counter to the real world.

Contrastingly, Kissinger defends the realist principle of the balance of power, a principle that, he notes, has attracted much criticism and hostility in American history because of its moral neutrality and in-built moral duplicity. The specific charge laid at the door of realism is admitted, but the consequent criticism is very firmly resisted. Winston Churchill’s defence of the balance of power as a principle of foreign policy is quoted with unswerving approval:

The policy of England [of opposing ‘the strongest, most aggressive, most dominating’ continental power] takes no account of which nation it is that seeks the overlordship of Europe. It is concerned solely with whoever is the strongest or the potentially dominating tyrant. It is a law of public policy which we are following, and not a mere expedient dictated by accidental circumstances, or likes and dislikes.¹

The essential and permanent aim of such a policy, Kissinger argues, is to prevent domination – the hegemony of one power or of a group of powers – and to foster equilibrium. A foreign policy that has this as its prime objective ‘knows few permanent enemies and few permanent friends’. Applied to the Gulf ‘it would avoid branding Iraq as forever beyond the pale. Rather it would seek to balance rivalries as old as history by striving for an equilibrium between Iraq, Iran, Syria and other regional powers’ (Kissinger 1991). What represents for some a damning indictment of US foreign policy – its readiness to make war against a state to which it had lent recent material as well as diplomatic support – is portrayed here as a mark of genuine statesmanship. Since the balance of power involves ‘forces in constant flux’, its maintenance demands continual adjustment to changing circumstances free of the constraints imposed by a moral purism.² Clearly, for Kissinger and other realists the accusation of moral duplicity is not at all unwelcome and is most unlikely to cause the moral anxiety or discomfort that, no doubt, it is intended to produce. The very different sensitivities and priorities of realism are captured in the robust remark sometimes attributed to Talleyrand (though perhaps more accurately attributed to Boulay de la Meurthe): ‘This is worse than a crime, it is a blunder.’

In its purer forms, realism rejects the traditional subjection of politics to ethics and affirms, in particular, the radical autonomy of international politics. Morgenthau, for example defends ‘the autonomy of the political sphere against its subversion by other modes of thought’ (Morgenthau 1973, p. 13). ‘The political realist’, he argues, ‘[though] not unaware of the existence and relevance of standards of thought other than political ones, … cannot but subordinate these other standards to those of politics’ (Morgenthau 1973, p. 11). Similarly, Schlesinger attacks those who ‘regard foreign policy as a branch of ethics’ (Lefever 1988, p. 27). ‘Realists,’ Carr suggests, ‘hold that relations between states are governed solely by power and that morality plays no part in them’ (Carr 1981, p. 153).

In some respects Carr’s formulation is misleading (even as a characterization of ‘pure’ realism). If morality played no part at all in international relations, realism would lose much of its point. The issues are what part, or parts, does morality play and what part should it play in the conduct of international relations? In the first place, the realist recognizes that the idiom of politics (particularly in time of war) is commonly a moral idiom, and readily accepts that there is a place for moral or ideological appeals in the equation of power politics. Indeed, as Machiavelli argued long ago, moral rhetoric is one of the most potent weapons in the statesman’s armoury, and the ability to convey the appearance of virtue is an indispensable part of the statesman’s art. From this realist perspective, however, it is the political utility of morality which is paramount: morality plays, or ought to play, an important instrumental but always subordinate role.³

The problem arises for the realist when the moral appeal is regarded independently and is taken so seriously that it begins to undermine the powerbroking and diplomatic horsetrading in which international politics are seen to consist. Those who regard morality in this way intend that it should play the directing role in foreign policy. This cannot happen, the realist insists, because of the very nature or structure of international relations, which is resistant to such moral determination. However the attempt to apply morality is, unhappily, not without effect on international relations. The effect that it does have is quite contrary to the one that is intended by the moralist: such moral intervention, far from moderating or resolving conflict, has the effect of exacerbating it. International relations become more rather than less conflictual as a result of these well-intentioned but entirely misconceived moral initiatives. Real peace is placed in jeopardy by the foolhardy pursuit of a moral chimera.

For those who apply realist ways of thinking to international relations as a whole, the moral limitation of war, that is, of international relations in extremis is clearly ruled out: if international relations are thought to be morally indeterminable in times of peace, they will most certainly be so regarded in times of war. In fact realism strips war of its exceptional or abnormal status by affirming its continuity with politics and with that ‘state of war’ in which peace is seen largely to consist. It reaffirms the view classically enunciated by Clausewitz:

We know, certainly, that War is only called forth through the political intercourse of Governments and Nations; but in general it is supposed that such intercourse is broken off by War, and that a totally different state of things ensues, subject to no laws but its own. We maintain, on the contrary, that War is nothing but a continuation of political intercourse, with a mixture of other means. (Clausewitz 1982, p. 402)

Though this view, in establishing a basic continuity between politics and war, has the effect of ‘normalizing’ war, it does not establish a case for easy or eager recourse to war. On the contrary, realists argue that the recognition of the thin dividing line between peace and war and of the fragile and artificial construct that is the state of peace makes realists less eager for war than idealists who assume a natural or normal, and therefore readily securable, condition of peace, of which war is taken to be the very antithesis. For the realist war, as the natural outcome of international relations, is a permanent threat and not a temporary aberration. Keeping it at bay is the principal aim and the great art of the statesman.

In the matter of recourse to war (the first broad area of concern so far as any ethics of war is concerned, and the one to which the just war category of ius ad bellum corresponds) realism argues that morality is a poor guide. The moralist is a man of extremes. Resisting war when he should embrace it and embracing it when he should resist it, his tendency is either to abhor war or to turn it into a moral crusade. The decision to go to war should be dictated not by the vagaries of moral sentiment but by pragmatic considerations of power and interest. Unfortunately, realists argue, the reverse often applies, particularly in the case of those wars of intervention that lend themselves more readily to a moral or altruistic interpretation. In Kissinger’s view, for example, the disaster that befell America in Vietnam had its origin in ‘a naive idealism that wanted to set right all the world’s ills and believed American goodwill supplied its own efficacy’ (Kissinger 1971, p. 230). As a result America found itself involved in a war that it ‘knew neither how to win nor how to conclude’ (Kissinger 1971, p. 232). Likewise, Schlesinger saw American involvement in Vietnam as ‘a precise consequence of the belief that moral principles should govern decisions of foreign policy’ (Lefever 1988, p. 37).⁴

Similar criticisms have been voiced of the more recent US intervention in Somalia, commenced in a spirit of high moral endeavour but ending, predictably, in abject failure and moral recrimination. In like manner, realists have persistently questioned the case for military intervention in Bosnia and have sought to unhitch foreign policy from the moral bandwagon rolling in favour of such intervention. Of course a realist case for intervention in Bosnia is possible; but typically it would appeal less to the humanitarian needs of the Muslim community than to the dangers of escalation and the threat to the regional balance of power. In other words, the case would be made (in reality if not in appearance) in terms of interests and power rather than justice and rights.

Characteristically, the realist resists the moral pressure to intervene in those cases in which the national interest is not clearly at stake and that are of such military and political complexity that the course and outcome of military intervention appears entirely unpredictable. In such frequently encountered circumstances the realist advises the kind of caution and restraint advocated by Clausewitz: ‘No War is commenced, or, at least, no War should be commenced, if people acted wisely, without first seeking a reply to the question, What is to be attained by and in the same?’ (Clausewitz 1982, p. 367). In a matter of such great consequence as war, Clausewitz argues, it is necessary ‘not to take the first step without thinking what may be the last’ (Clausewitz 1982, p. 374).

At the same time ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Preface to the second edition
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction to the second edition: Just war, past and present
• Introduction to the first edition
• Part I: Images of war
• Part II: Principles and concepts of the just war
• Part III: Terrorism and counterterrorism
• References
• Index