Mark Tooley: Our next speaker, to whom we’ve been looking forward—and it is his first time to address this conference over the years— is Lucas Coach, an old friend who is a practitioner of Christian global statecraft. In that, for six years, he directed International Affairs for the U.S. Catholic Conference of Bishops here in Washington, D.C. So, I believe Lucas will speak to us about those years and their application for the future. Lucas, thank you for joining us.  

Lucas Koach: Great, thank you, Mark. Thanks, Mark, and thank you all for being here. It gives me great hope to see so many young faces make the cost and expense to come to Washington to probe these issues. I only presume many of you are studying these types of issues in your studies back on your campuses.  

And I will say, on that note, that it is great to hear the discussion come up about nuclear deterrence and nuclear weapons, which the U.S. Bishops have a long history of weighing in on. But if you go to a lot of the institutes and think tanks now dealing with nuclear weapons and nuclear deterrence, it’s really a reflection of where a generation or two generations ago—as was alluded to—Russian studies, nuclear weapons, deterrence, Cold War, Cold War theory—that was it. That was what everybody was thinking about in the international space.  

And now, nuclear weapons barely get a mention. These days, everyone is talking about AI and a lot of other current realities—albeit very concerning and grave issues themselves. But to a degree, if you want to go into that field, there is a real hunger and tremendous need for new generations and young people to delve into that issue.  

That’s not going to be a thrust of my remarks here, but perhaps we can discuss it a little in the Q&A.  

So, if I had a title for what I wanted to address, I’ve known IRD for many years and Providence Magazine, and so I understand I’m coming at this as a Catholic—a Catholic convert, at that. I was an Anglican priest actually for over a decade, so that brings that kind of perspective. But a lot of my work, my vocation, has always been in this area of statecraft and policy here in Washington.  

So, with that acknowledgment, you could title this “Prospects for Promoting Peace and Justice in the International Order,” and I’ll reflect on key documents from the Roman Catholic Church—one being Pacem in Terris from 1963 and then the pastoral constitution of Vatican II, Gaudium et Spes. Where did those documents leave off, and where do we go from here?  

Again, I’ll give you some context for those who aren’t Romanists among the audience to delve into that. Certainly, there is a treasure trove of Catholic social doctrine that was a very key element of my own conversion experience of coming into the Catholic Church.  

Its key broad themes are very helpful for us Christians who are trying to think about the kingdom of God and what that means. Trying to bring about “Thy kingdom come” here on Earth, whether that’s the broad themes of human dignity, the common good, solidarity, subsidiarity, from which we could start related conversations around the international order.  

But for our limited time here, again, I want to focus on Pacem in Terris, the encyclical written by Pope John XXIII in 1963, right as Vatican II was underway, and then the major constitution Gaudium et Spes as I mentioned.  

So, a few words. Let’s—just bear with me, walk with me, tarry with me. I know you’ve been listening to lots of speakers and so forth, but I think this will give some helpful context for the points I will make.  

Pacem in Terris—Latin for “Peace on Earth”—offers an important teaching on the relations between states and offers an anticipatory backdrop of such high aspirations and, granted, much-needed international cooperation. Particularly in Section 3, called “Relations Between States,” it says in paragraph 80:  

“Nations are the subjects of reciprocal rights and duties. Their relationships, therefore, must likewise be harmonized in accordance with the dictates of truth, justice, willing cooperation, and freedom. The same law of nature that governs the life and conduct of individuals must also regulate the relations of political communities with one another.”

And, going on to paragraph 84:  

“Even when a ruling authority regulates the relations between states, authority must be exercised for the promotion of the common good. That is the primary reason for its existence.”

It goes on, again, with these—you’re going to see this theme of these kinds of high aspirations for the international order.  

Pacem in Terris even goes on in paragraph 145 and discusses the United Nations expressly. It says this:  

“Our earnest wish is that the United Nations Organization may be able progressively to adapt its structure and methods of operation to the magnitude and nobility of its task. May the day not be long delayed when every human being can find in this organization an effective safeguard of his personal rights—those rights, that is, which derive directly from his dignity as a human person, and which are, therefore, universal, inviolable, and inalienable.”

We, as Christians, readily share these aspirations. Yet, in doing so, some will argue the Church risks simply adding on to otherwise these freestanding secular forms of charity. It’s easy to aspire to see the United Nations, for example, deliver on such promises. We have seen, time and again, this kind of institution’s inability to act and outright failures to do so. So, I think this question of whether such aspirations ascribed to such bodies are perhaps an example of the risk of the Church, again, transposing or adding on these secular forms of charity is worth exploring.  

Let’s pivot over now to Gaudium et Spes, which means “joy and hope.” This pastoral constitution tried to give some prescription for how the Church should think about the world order. It has a subsection in Part II called “Some Problems of Special Urgency,” and there are several sections within it. However, the last one—the fifth section—is germane to our conversation here at this conference and to my remarks: “fostering peace and the establishment of a community of nations.”

To the council fathers at Vatican II’s credit, the pastoral constitution does reject amoral realpolitik approaches to world affairs and offers many critical points for reflection for serious thinkers among the ruling class from any country or quarter, along with the faithful and people of goodwill at large. But living now in 2024 affords us a new vantage point, does it not? If not, a convenient critique in light of developments on the world stage unknown in 1965.

Some critiques have been pointed out by theologians and Catholic academics, and some of those I’m going to touch on—five of them, to be precise. So, again, bear with me.  

First, Gaudium et Spes does not address utilitarianism, a default ideology among many global elites of the 21st century—be it corporatism, cronyism, or extractive industries—which readily run roughshod over the innate human dignity of others and neglect the demands of human freedom and justice, which Gaudium et Spes aspires to uphold.  

Second, Gaudium et Spes fails to reckon with the dramatic changes in the family in the West. I think a great deal more research and broader publication, in my survey, can be done on the implications of the disintegration of families on the erosion of Western civilization and its implications for peace and justice more broadly in the international order.  

Right? I mean, we see scores and scores of efforts to promote gender equality or the protection of minorities, and all those can have their place. But it’s interesting to see, by contrast, very little emphasis on the family, which is, rightly, the fundamental political building block of a just society.  

Third, Gaudium et Spes does recognize the development of technology, to its credit. The space race was a focal reality of its time and is referenced. The threat of nuclear war was very much on people’s minds when discussing “modern scientific weapons.” Yet few could anticipate the silicon and digital revolutions in which we are now living—revolutions that have been a force for global economic growth but also how such technology is integrated into weapons and systems of warfare.  

Right now, the Church and wider civil society are only beginning to formulate ethical considerations regarding the accelerated development of AI. That development, however, is not going to wait for moral pronouncements from the Vatican or elsewhere to shape the present and future reality.  

Fourth, Gaudium et Spes is silent on the environment, a movement that significantly scaled in the latter 20th century and continues today. Certainly, the Church has spoken on the environment and related ecological considerations, most articulately in recent times with Pope Francis’s encyclical Laudato Si’.  

Fifth and lastly, Gaudium et Spes does not discuss the scourge of corruption and incompetence in governments. Such problems are not only found, of course, in the developing world but also in the so-called developed world, and they are a massive impediment to peace and justice.  

So, with those cursory observations in mind, what we have to consider and be mindful of is the development of integral humanism at the time and the significant role it played in Vatican II through the influence of luminaries like Jacques Maritain. Some argue that Gaudium et Spes places a rather high view of the modern human condition.  

Consider Gaudium et Spes, paragraph 55, which states:  

“Throughout the whole world, there is a mounting increase in the sense of autonomy as well as responsibility. This is of paramount importance for the spiritual and moral maturity of the human race. This becomes more clear if we consider the unification of the world and the duty which it imposes upon us, that we build a better world based on truth and justice. Thus, we are witnesses to the birth of a new humanism, one in which man is defined first of all by his responsibility to his brothers and to history.”

With this high view, commensurate aspirations were arguably placed upon international cooperation. To be sure, international cooperation is important, needed, and indeed imperative. But a great deal of that cooperation is predicated on parties and nations pursuing just and moral ends, which, of course, are sadly and abundantly elusive.  

Christian realism, upon which so much of the work of IRD is built, is very sobered and wise to these realities. So, where are we now? With that backdrop, and I think with a fair cursory view of how the Church is looking at ideas of the global order, we can look at these earnest aspirations. The aspirations of the United Nations and the hopes of the old liberal order more broadly have indeed come up wanting—whether in protecting human rights, maintaining international peace and security, or upholding international law.  

Accelerating the demise of international order is the resurgence of new atheism, a new Gnosticism, and the tyranny of relativism. To quote Pope Francis quoting Pope Benedict, when Francis addressed the diplomatic corps in 2013, the rise of authoritarian regimes, terrorism, and the various isms which have spawned that underpin these political regimes and programs.

With current wars, which have been discussed at some length—whether in Ukraine, Gaza, or the Middle East—and mounting instabilities, of course, with China and the Korean Peninsula. Let’s not forget about Africa. Just this past year, the Sahel region has been called the “coup belt,” with coups occurring in Gabon, Niger, Burkina Faso, Sudan, Guinea, and Mali—all coups d’état. The failed and corrupt regimes even in Latin America, namely Venezuela and Nicaragua, add to this list.  

I think all these types of burning, smoldering issues are what Pope Francis calls out in his statement, “Peace by peace, the world is becoming the theater of a unique third world war,” a quote from 2022.  

So again, where do we go from here? The question remains: How is the Catholic Church—and, I think, we can extend this to thoughtful Christians—poised to be a moral authority and promote peace and justice, recognizing some of these truths, important themes, and aspirations, but also these contemporary realities?  

While the Church will always have her role to play, in my opinion, to affect international relations, much is now being written about how we are re-entering the apostolic age—an age where the Church is less at the center of international power and cultural prestige. But the thinning out of the Church amid a hostile environment often—and I would dare say always—has a refining effect, whereby the disciples of Christ are more committed because of the high cost that discipleship requires.

I’d say that same type of courage is needed on the international stage. From what I have modestly surveyed in my work in policy over the past decade and serving the U.S. Bishops over the past six years, I do not see the Church on the verge of marshalling a big peace treaty anytime soon.  

If this were 1983, the U.S. Bishops had just published their big peace pastoral, “The Challenge of Peace,” which was largely focused on issues of warfare and nuclear deterrence, right as the Cold War was scaling to its height. It was front-page news in The Washington Post—a very big deal. But that is not today.

The U.S. Church is nowhere near making such pronouncements. Even the Holy See, I think, has acknowledged this in some form or fashion. The moral authority of the Church is not at the center like it has been some time ago.  

Now, if at times we place too much hope on institutions to promote peace and justice in the international order, the Church—with the promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against her—also offers correctives or a renewed emphasis with the acknowledgment and reminder that the Gospel itself must be the central animating principle for building a society according to the precepts of justice and peace.  

Here, I think Pope Benedict XVI is brilliant. In his encyclical Caritas in Veritate promulgated in 2009, paragraph 13, he says:  

“The Church’s social doctrine is closely connected to its overall magisterium [referring to Pope Paul VI] especially his social magisterium, his was certainly a social teaching of great importance. He underlined the indispensable importance of the Gospel [you hear it] for building a society according to freedom and justice in the ideal and historical perspective of a civilization animated by love.”

I think the same reminder should be reiterated within the Church: the imperative of the proclamation of the kerygma along with our work about Dei for justice and peace. Be it in international affairs—which, again, I hope many of you are seriously thinking about, praying about, and considering—we might rediscover that these two are indeed two sides of the same coin.  

Just yesterday, I spent a day with a colleague of mine who was one of the chief U.S. nuclear weapons negotiators during the George H.W. Bush administration. He is a very committed Catholic. He shared anecdotes, but we also both agreed—this is more than anecdotal—that when you’re in the big boardrooms and salons, engaging in the formal protocols going back and forth, those are all necessary and important.  

But it was often the offline time—during dinners, for example—where, invariably, he would find ways to share faith, precepts of the Gospel, and aspirations for their people. Oftentimes, that is where you start to see islands of trust in seas of distrust. I think, in many ways, that moved the needle, quite frankly, in critical negotiations.  

Pope Benedict goes on in Caritas in Veritate, reminding us of the relationship between agape love and logos—charity and truth, love and word. Again, the Gospel and the work of social order are tied together.

In another of his earlier encyclicals, Deus Caritas Est, he addresses Catholic charitable organizations expressly around this principle, furnishing us with an application of how we are to bring the animating principle of the Gospel to organizations seeking to promote the wider common good in accord with peace and justice.  

In paragraph 31, he says:  

“Consequently, in addition to their necessary professional training, these charity workers need, quote, ‘a formation of the heart.’ They need to be led to that encounter with God in Christ which awakens their love and opens their spirits to others. As a result, love of neighbor will no longer be for them a commandment imposed, so to speak, from without, but a consequence deriving from their faith—a faith which becomes active through love.”

Pope Francis has made the idea of genuine human encounter a central feature of his pontificate. His encyclical Fratelli Tutti (Brothers All) speaks to the nature of fear and how it impedes our proper encounter with the other. As peacemakers, we should seek to understand the fears of the other beyond any real or supposed political aspirations or enumerated transgressions of one’s enemy.  

Until one understands the attitudes and orientations of the heart, the best intellectual arguments, whether in the salons of power or the local town hall, will make little progress. We are in a time where the Church must again emphasize her primary and sole purpose, which is the salvation of souls. This is the aim of her social doctrine. This is quoted in the Catholic Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, paragraph 69, for those taking notes.  

I love Mother Teresa. We all know Mother Teresa. She would tell people time and again that her sisters were not social workers. She would say, We are religious. We are religious. We are religious. People sought her out because she could go into the middle of a hot barrage exchange in Lebanon to bring aid to the orphans, and guns would go silent as the order would come through.  

She would say it’s not in spite of but because of their religious character. Again, Pope Francis reminds us, in his celebrated first homily, “If we do not profess Jesus Christ, we will become a compassionate NGO, but not the Church—the bride of Christ.”  

So, while the Church certainly has her duty to develop social doctrine, the Catholic Church reminds us that Christ did not bequeath to the Church a mission in the political, economic, or social order. The Church’s competence comes from the Gospel, proclaiming Christ as Redeemer. These efforts are to support and give witness to the credence of the Church’s supreme law: the salvation of souls.  

This is my hope and prayer today: that all Christians who work for justice and peace—be it in bilateral or multilateral fora, in our local communities, or indeed in our own families—will take to heart and be reminded of our supreme mission and Him who sends us out into that mission field.  

Thank you for your kind attention. I’m happy to take questions.

Q&A

Question: Hello, my name is Faith. I’m from Asbury Theological Seminary. I’m just curious to see what your thoughts may be. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with Miroslav Volf’s Public Faith book. He makes an interesting argument that Christians should hesitate to want to belong to a monotheistic society and that Christianity thrives much better in a polytheistic society. Early Christianity and the Church—that is how they grew because they were such a separate identity. I’m just curious what your thoughts would be.  

Answer: Yeah, I think that goes back to my earlier point about, again, how a lot of people are writing on this idea that we’re entering this apostolic age. You know, again, I’m quoting Pope Francis a lot right now. He said to the College of Cardinals, “Christendom is over,” and he’s quite correct.  

We are in this apostolic age. We don’t have the clout, the power, or the unanimity with the state that Christendom enjoyed—and I’ll add, perhaps sadly, being part of the American experience notwithstanding.  

So, I think there’s something to be said for that. The more you’re in that—I’ll call it a hostile—environment, one with a significantly different worldview than the one you share, you can be sure that if you’re going to be a believer in that environment, you almost by definition have to be all in.

A few years ago, I came back from northern Iraq. I had the privilege of visiting many Catholic and Chaldean churches in the Nineveh Plains that survived the onslaught of ISIS. Now, they’re being suppressed by the Iranian-backed Hashd al-Shaabi militias, as well as their own Iraqi agencies and government.  

I would ask them, “Why come back? Why are you here?” Their town was just in rubble. They said, “This is home. This is where God has called us to be.” I was really humbled by that. It made me think, gosh, I wish we had that faith. Let’s face it: if you’re here in this room, we all still have a great deal of privilege.  

If you really want to see the richness of faith, go visit those communities living in very hostile regions—which is a great deal of the world. You will see people of extraordinary faith. That’s often where, I think, the Gospel can go out and the Kingdom can be advanced.  

Thank you. Another question? Any other questions? Up here—I think right here.  

Question: Thanks. My name is Levi. I’m from George Washington University here in D.C. My question would be: do you see an increased role of the Church specifically in this new order we’re talking about here, or more of Christians in these places as a Church body?  

Answer: Yeah, I think it is both. That is something rather unique about being Roman Catholic, right? It also has that standing as a state, and there is an apostolic nuncio in just about every country of the world.  

And, you know, they have this massive presence, and they’re a permanent observer. They have formal standing at the United Nations. So again, they’re not a voting member, but they can go and make speeches and so forth. That’s an extraordinary moral voice that the Church—capital C, the Catholic Church—brings to bear.  

It is always, and can, and has played a unique diplomatic role. Right? Because they are really kind of a divested partner. They’re not, on the international stage as it were, trying to build an economy or militarily protect their people. But the Church has always called itself an expert in humanity.  

These precepts, by which all people of goodwill are obliged to acknowledge—the natural law inscribed on the heart of mankind—do bring people to the table. The Holy See, time and again, and certainly to this day, is providing diplomatic spaces to bring warring factions together, etc.  

This is a great deal of my work at the U.S. Bishops’ Conference. We see all these types of conflicts around the world, and the U.S. government often turns to us because, often, the most stable civil society organization in many fragile regions of the world is the Catholic Church.  

Not just for believers, but again, because of the magisterium, apostolic succession, and the episcopate. Those priests and bishops can be convening agents—not only representing important constituencies but also serving as mediators and brokers for peace, and so on.  

To the other point, you’re right—not everyone is going to be called to be a Vatican diplomat. Certainly, by virtue of our baptism and our faith in Christ, we are called to bring those prospects for peace to bear. By contrast, we also see examples like Mother Teresa, where they are doing extraordinary work at a local, regional, or even countrywide level in their own ministries and apostolates. So, there are lots of avenues to engage in this work.  

Question: Hi, my name is William Roberts. I work here at the Institute on Religious Democracy. I was hoping you could just offer your assessment for the future of the Catholic Church in the Levant and Mesopotamia, as you raised the dire situation of the Christians there.  

Answer: Yeah, as I was pointing out earlier, it’s grim. I think we need to lead with that. About a decade-plus ago—15 years ago—before the U.S. invasion of Iraq, there were over a million Christians in the region. Now, just in that region, for example, a lot of official statistics place the number around 200,000, but I think it’s a lot less—around 100,000.  

They are like the white rhinos of Christianity—few in number and hanging on by a thread. They are extraordinarily courageous and doing apostolic work, but the future is not bright, realistically. Until there’s some real stabilization in that region of the world—not just in terms of conflict but also in terms of regimes—there’s little hope.  

A lot of these regimes have notions of religious freedom on paper, but many Islamic regimes do not allow for true freedom of religion, which Vatican II developed at great length through Dignitatis Humanae.  

So, yes, it’s grim. But I know, for example, the Archbishop of Erbil is partnering with Franciscan University of Steubenville. His country has been decimated, and while many humanitarian actors and faith leaders focus on shelters, food, and critical needs, he says, “You know what? No. We’re building a state-of-the-art hospital. We’re going to build a Catholic university in Erbil.”  

Now, there is a Catholic university in Erbil, Iraq. He’s saying, “We are integral to the fabric of this land and this region. We’re not just trying to survive. This is our home, and we are integral to the fabric of these people.”  

Very bold, forthright leadership. So, let’s also end on a note of hope that there could be some helpful developments. We’ll see how the Holy Spirit leads and how the Kingdom tarries.  

Question: Hi, I’m Josh from Cairn University. You spoke a lot about how the work of the Church is for the salvation of souls and advancing justice and peace. I wanted to get your thoughts on the rising Christian nationalism movement that seeks to use Christianity and the Church to advance what can be considered far-right politics and policies.  

Answer: Yeah, sure. I mean, I think there’s a lot of making Christian nationalism synonymous with a kind of nationalism that’s not helpful, not healthy, or good. I think that’s fair. But what’s not often highlighted, and is worthy of articulation, is what is a “healthy” nationalism?  

Thomas Aquinas developed this idea of ordered loves. It is right and appropriate for us to have that order of love. Yes, our greatest responsibility of love is to our family, then to our community, then to our nation, and then to the world.  

The Scriptures never talk about loving “humanity.” They talk about loving your neighbor. So, there is a right place to have a genuine love and affinity for your nation and your people. That need not be exclusive of the common good of other nations and the world.  

If we are casting this as a singular “bad path” to be avoided at all costs, I would encourage us to look at this from a Christian perspective—a biblical perspective—throughout the course of Christianity, not just through our current cultural and political lenses, which are often not fairly acknowledged or appraised in my opinion.

This is really fun. I could do this all day—this is great! There’s one back there.  

Question: Yeah, um, my name is Mariah Barnell.  

Response: Where are you from?  

Question: Wyoming Catholic College.  

Response: Oh, fantastic.  

Question: Yep. I was wondering if I could connect it with the last speaker. When he said that nuclear weapons work as a deterrent—I think he’s right, they work as a deterrent—but you can’t avoid the disturbing fact as to why they work as a deterrent. They work as a deterrent because they are automatically threats against citizens. They are automatically threats against the innocent. We are automatically going to shoot them at cities; we’re going to shoot them at things like that. So, I guess my question is: how do Christians—you talked about peaceful justice—how do you reconcile the fact that we know nuclear deterrence works, but we also know that it only works because of a very, very bad reason?  

Response: That’s right.  

Question: So, how do you balance the two—Christian justice and a policy that we know works but is also very bad?  

Answer: Great question. That could be a whole-day lecture! How much time do we have? Are we doing okay?  

Tooley: Three minutes.  

Koach: Okay, good. In 1983, the U.S. Bishops launched this pastoral letter called “The Challenge of Peace.” In it, they made this rudimentary proposition: they said, “We have a presupposition against war.” We can debate the merits of that. Some think it’s very fine and good, but there are also critiques of that, where others said, “No, we—or they, depending on who’s speaking—didn’t start at the right point.”  

The presupposition should be: “We have a presupposition against injustice.”  

As we know, certainly through St. Augustine and others, the Church has developed the idea of just war. We have to do the harder work of considering what the demands of justice are and what the just demands of statecraft are.  

Yes, nuclear weapons are bad. They are fraught and, in many ways, madness. But before jumping to that truth, we have to do the harder work of addressing the demands of justice—how a state is obliged to provide not only for the good of its citizenry but also for the common good of humanity and the universal destination of goods around the world.  

To that point, I think the way to get after it—and this is where there is unanimity among, if I may say, the liberal and conservative wings of the Church—is this: the goal is still disarmament. Nobody disagrees—our world will be safer if there are fewer nuclear weapons on it.

However, it’s very, very difficult to achieve. As the prior conversation nodded to, we could easily be on the verge of a new arms race. That’s a real possibility, and it could make things even more fraught.

What made Pope Francis’s statement notable, though not a formal document of the magisterium, was his declaration that it is now immoral to merely possess nuclear weapons. A lot of people said, “Yes, that’s great!”

That’s in contrast to what Pope John Paul II addressed at the United Nations in 1982. He said, by contrast, that nuclear weapons can have a limited validity if they are used as deterrents while moving towards mutual disarmament. That was just as treaties were being primed, and Gorbachev was soon coming on the scene, etc.  

I think that’s the very, very small eye of the needle we have to navigate: real considerations of deterrence and disarmament. There can be—and has been—a place for deterrence. That’s a big debate in Catholic circles. But it’s also predicated on the wider just demands of statecraft, which I think have been lacking.  

Thank you!