This article was first published
in The Universe
Why I Am Not a Pacifist
By Dwight Longenecker
Last week our ten-year-old
son was encouraged by his teachers to write a letter
to Tony Blair protesting the war in Iraq. I was
grateful that the school was instilling an interest
in current events and Christian morality, but I
wasn’t impressed with their attempt to help the
children understand both sides of the question.
The underlying assumption seemed to be that the
war could only be wrong.
To help him see the other
side I asked Benedict what he thought we should do
if
we had a neighbour who we knew tortured his dog,
abused his children and beat his wife. Benedict
wasn’t sure. ‘What if we knew he did all those
things, and suspected that he might actually have
killed somebody and buried them in his garden.’ I
asked. ‘What if this man was seen out at night
stalking young children. Do you think we should
call the police and ask them to investigate?’ ‘Yes,’ he
answered. ‘And if he was guilty should the police
take him away and lock him up?’ ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘What
if they had to break into his home. What if somebody
might get hurt in the process. Should they take
the risk?’ The answer was ‘Yes.’
The reason I am not a pacifist
is that I am realistic about the world. I think
there is such a thing as evil. I think evil must
be confronted. Because I am realistic about the
world I am also realistic about human nature. Every
human being is created in the image of God. It
is true that deep down, each and every human being
remains essentially good. But it is also true that
God’s image in each of us is soiled. What was clear
and good has become polluted. What was straight
has developed a kink. The image of God is wounded
in us. Because I am realistic about human nature
I realise that each one of us, if we are left to
our own way, will slide down into selfishness,
greed, anger and violence. For the twist in our
nature to be straightened we need discipline, and
discipline means applying pressure.
This is true within our own
personal lives, within our homes, our schools, our
parishes,
our country and on a global scale. Goodness, justice
and peace don’t just happen. They have to be created
with hard work, sacrifice and the application of
force. Whenever possible that force should be applied
gently, but if gentle force and persuasion don’t
work, then sterner measures may be called for.
In his sixth century rule for monks St Benedict
shows a clear understanding of human nature. He
advises the abbot of the monastery to use all means
to nurture his monks towards goodness. He should ‘employ
arguments, appeals and rebukes. He must behave
differently at different times, sometimes using
threats, sometimes encouragement. He must show
the tough attitude of a master, and also the loving
affection of a father. Thus he should sternly reprimand
the undisciplined and unruly, but entreat the obedient,
the meek and the patient to go forward in virtue;
as for the careless and the scornful, we instruct
him to rebuke and correct them. He should not pretend
he does not see the faults of the offenders.’
Benedict’s last line reveals
the weakness of the pacifists. To be a pacifist you
have to pretend not to see the faults of the offenders.
This sounds like a pacifist is optimistic about
human nature, and in a way they are. However, I
am not opposed to pacifists for being optimistic,
but because they are not optimistic enough. The
true optimist is not only positive about what is,
but he is positive about what can be. In other
words he sees potential. He also sees what needs
to be done for the potential to be realised. He
sees that sometimes a lesser peace must be broken
in order for a greater peace to be won. He sees
that conflict is necessary for evil or weakness
to be conquered.
When I am fighting
against the weaknesses in my own life, or in the
life of my home or community the battle might seem
straightforward. But when that battle becomes an
international war the situation seems far more
complicated. In the face of the Iraq war we get
confused because we suspect that America and Britain
may not have pure motives. We know that they do
not have a clean history. In the past they have
supported brutal dictators, used their power to
suppress the weak and grabbed wealth that wasn’t
theirs by military might.
We are right to ask these
questions, but we mustn’t dismiss the efforts of those who
are fighting for a good cause simply because their
motives might be mixed, or because of past weaknesses
and failures. We don’t get rid of the police force
because there have been some corrupt coppers or
those who were only in it for the money. We don’t
get rid of judges because some have taken bribes
or been drunks. Neither do we stop our own personal
battle against evil simply because we have often
failed. All of us are hypocrites. All of us have
fallen down. What matters is not how often we fall,
but how often we get up. What matters is not that
we have failed, but what we have learned from our
failure.
I am not a pacifist
because I realise that there is a dark force in
my heart and in my world, and that dark force needs
to be fought. This does not mean I am a gung-ho
warmonger. I tremble in the face of battle like
anyone else. I shirk from my call to fight the
good fight. I wish the battle were not necessary.
I wish the evil would just go away. I wish the
world were perfect. I wish my own life were perfect.
I hope one day it will be. But until that time
it is up to each one of us to strap on our armour
and enter the fray. The good person fights with
reluctance. But at the back of his mind is the
echoing thought that, ‘all that is required for
evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.’
