WAR: THE CHRISTIAN DILEMMA
By THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S
THAT war presents the Christian with a moral problem of the most acute kind is generally recognised, but it is useful to state it in as bare a form as possible, so that we may face it without the confusions introduced by emotion and rhetoric. It seems to take the form of a dilemma. The Christian has recognised the supreme value and authority of the moral teaching and example of Jesus, and is committed to a loyalty which certainly claims to transcend all others.
There can be no doubt that war and all its circumstances are contrary to the mind of Christ. This is so evident that to adduce particular sayings of Jesus is quite unnecessary. Nor can it be said that the question of patriotic duty in defence of national freedom was not present to His mind as a practical problem of conduct. There were Jews who were hoping for deliverance through war. The movements which led to the great revolt of A.D. 69 were already gathering force. Jesus sedulously refrained from giving any coun- tenance to them, and there is no recorded saying of His which suggests that the political future of the nation was a subject in which He showed any interest.
I do not think it can be argued that His teaching on forgiveness and non-resistance to evil men applies only to the relations of individuals. Doubtless they have the person and his social contacts as their primary intention, but it would be difficult to maintain that a state of war between nations does not involve a state of war between individuals. We know very well that a nation engaged in a totalitarian war must be inspired by a grim determination not only to endure but to destroy the enemy. It is swept by fear and by the compensating emotion, hatred—the passion of the soul which Jesus regarded as utterly evil.
To come down to particulars, it is surely beyond the bounds of tolerable paradox to assert that airmen raining death and destruction on a crowded city could be doing so in a spirit of love and forgiveness, and it strikes us as little short of blasphemy when they say they are fighting in the cause of Christ. We must not allow ourselves to be con- fused by the obvious fact that war calls out wonderful heroism and self-sacrifice. Soldiers are enlisted, not in order that they may die for their country, but that they may kill for her, and in modern war this sometimes means that they may have to massacre women and children.
The Christian is, at the same time, a member of a com- munity, and has obligations to the community and to the State which is its organ. When Socrates refused to escape from prison and avoid the cup of hemlock he explained his decision by recounting a vision in which the Laws of the city appeared to him and reminded him of the benefits which they had conferred on him, at the same time reproaching him with the ingratitude which caused him to meditate dis- obedience when to obey was irksome. This too is a moral insight. It would be difficult to exaggerate what we owe to the community or to think of anything which we did not receive from it. Protection, security of life and property, are only the beginning of the catalogue, for we must reckon, in addition, those influences which give cur lives value and interest.
We have inherited a culture and tradition, a freedom and a way of living which are distinctive. Even our religion owes something to the national community, for, though it came to us through the Church, the Church was protected by the community, and its laws and our Christianity are flavoured by the characteristic tang of England. In view of all this can it be maintained that the community has no right to call upon its members to defend it when it is attacked, or that there is no obligation on the individual to preserve the inheritance to which he owes so much? We cannot "contract out" of society just at the moment when it is in the greatest danger.
Thus it seems that the Christian in war is confronted by a true moral dilemma—a conflict of rights. What light can he gain upon a problem which may become of urgent im- portance? It appears to be useless and misleading to water down either side of the dilemma. Perhaps it may be better to understand how it arises.
At the outset of its history, the Church had to choose between two possible policies. It was in possession of an absolute ethic, but one which, by reason of the very fact that it was absolute, could not be lived without compromise in the ordinary world of men. Those who had this heritage from the Lord might have cut themselves off from the society of mankind in general and formed an isolated brotherhood. The alternative was to enter the life of the contemporary world and to be citizens of an earthly city as well as of a heavenly one. At no definite date was the choice made, but, in effect, the Church chose to cast in its lot with civilisation. There may be difference of opinion whether the choice was right or wrong, but it has been made and cannot be reversed now. Christianity, for good or evil, has consented to play the game of civilisation, and it must play the game out.
The consequence of this is that the Christian is inevitably under a tension from which there is no escape. He is under the authority of Christ and of the new Law of the Kingdom, and he is also under the authority of a community of this world, which is largely based on principles opposed to Christ. He is under an obligation to approximate, as far as possible in the conditions in which he has to live, to the ethical teaching of Jesus and also to do all he can to bring the secular community into closer harmony with the ideals of the Kingdom of God, but he is not, in consequence of this, authorised to repudiate those civil obligations to which he has made himself morally liable by accepting the benefits of secular civilisation.
St. Augustine described the condition of those under the power of "original sin" in the phrase Non posse non peccare—they are not able not to sin. The doctrine of original sin contains a profound truth, which has unfor- tunately been expressed in terms which make it almost unmeaning to modern minds. A part of that truth is this unavoidable tension between the values of the Kingdom of God and the values of civilisation. How often, when we consider our actions, do we realise that they are, for the most part, the result of a choice between evils—or, what is the same thing, between partial goods We cannot do what is absolutely good. This predicament becomes tragically plain when the community is at war, for then we are confronted with a choice of two great evils, either to engage in a business which is in contradiction with the mind of Christ or to step out of duties which we have tacitly assumed by living in the community and sharing its life.
This argument may easily be misunderstood. St. Augustine and others have hopelessly confused the doctrine of original sin by identifying evil with guilt. In choosing something which is materially evil we may be not only quite innocent but even exhibit heroic virtue, we may be choosing what, in the circumstances, is the only relative good open to us. Thus the man who determines that he will fight for his country in a " just " war may well believe that he is upheld by the grace of God ; but we must say the same of the conscientious objector, if he has weighed the claims upon him and is prepared to face the consequences of his decision [The Dean of St. Paul's will develop his discussion of Christianity and War in a further article in next week'z, SPECTATOR, entitled "A 7ust Woe]
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