War is, of course, inherently moral in its nature because it is an inherently human phenomenon. This is not to make a value judgment about all war per se, that every war is always morally right and good; this is patently illogical. Rather, it is to say that because war as a phenomenon arises from and is fought within the nexus of human relationships, that as humans are agential moral beings in their nature, so war then is necessarily a moral endeavor. Describing the political philosophy of Edmund Burke, the late Roger Scruton used an analogy of war to describe how Burke saw politics:

“Ideology proposes a kind of politics of war: the message is, you are either with us or against us, and we shall win in any case. This goes counter to the entire political tradition of Anglo-American representative government, which involves the acceptance of certain procedures and institutions as ‘given’—i.e. as creating the framework within which disagreements can be negotiated. Such a form of government should not be understood as a means to an end, or a solution to a problem, but as a way in which people live together in mutual understanding. It is both the end and the means, the solution and the problem.”

Notwithstanding that Scruton’s analysis of Burke’s political ideology poignantly captures the current political zeitgeist, it is reflexively just as accurate a description of war as it is of politics. This is precisely the point which the famed Prussian theorist of war Carl von Clausewitz so famously made, that war is, in fact, an extension of politics by other means, namely armed violence in pursuit of political ends. This is a truth worth re-examining amidst the present discussion in America about its profession of arms. Though a renewed emphasis on the warrior ethos, violence, destruction, and lethality are perhaps overdue in the view of some, we cannot divorce such ideas from the moral nature of war, and why, how, and towards what ends we fight. 

Towards this end, let me offer three not original points, but ones which need occasional reconsideration, particularly at a time in American life in which the initiation of war has been renegotiated under the rubric of the unitary executive. The first, of course, is the seductively simple observation that technology can enhance but not supplant the human decision to act with violence in war. General George C. Marshall, of course, famously intoned this in 1941 prior to America’s entrance into World War II, for even then the siren song that technology could supplant the human in war was being sung in many corners; through battlefield experience and strategic education, Marshall knew otherwise. Indeed, he was only challenging the American public to remember this timeless truth about the nature of war, derived from the ancient Greeks to that day: increasingly lethal and effective technology aids warriors in combatting an enemy, but it is the will to fight buried in our souls which, with God’s help, is decisive in assuring victory. For Marshall as for us today, increasingly effective technology iterates with the changing character of war but cannot supplant the will of the warrior—and his or her nation—in shaping the outcome. Derivatively, then, we are faced with a choice: humanity must repeatedly decide to always control war, never ceding it to any factor lest, in fighting, we lose our moral agency in the process. 

Because humans are either moral or immoral, then, war embodies the human character of those who fight, whether ignobly or nobly. Thus, the second point I wish to make is to return to the why and how of conducting war, for these are not secondary but primary questions we must address if we decide, as a republic, to wage war. As Eric Patterson has so eloquently reminded us, these two questions lie at the heart of the Just War Tradition, particularly its ad bellum and in bello frameworks. Moreover, today as this tradition expands to consider both post bellum and ante bellum factors (so war before, in, after, and even between conflicts), the point is all the more comprehensively made that any war in which we engage will necessarily reflect our character, for right or wrong, for justice or injustice, for aggrandizement or peace… whether we like it or not. Essentially, as a human phenomenon, we cannot escape the truth that the telos of war must always be at the forefront of our decision-making about war, for such is reflective of ourselves as much as anything, and certainly what political ends we seek to achieve through it.

However, though war is violent in its expression, it nevertheless remains a political process between warring parties; it is neither static nor singular in nature. As a means unto an end and thus not an end unto itself, war must always be strategically emplaced in its overarching national security apparatus context. A helpful corollary is the oft-cited acronym taught in many war colleges regarding the instruments of national power, essentially that any nation has at its disposal many means to achieve its geopolitical ends, including diplomatic, intelligence, military, economic, financial, informational, and law enforcement powers (so DIME-FIL). What is important to retain in our understanding is that each warring nation-state has all such powers at its disposal, though some relatively more or less according to their strategic capacities in each area. 

Regarding our consideration of the moral nature of war, however, no nation controls each of these capacities absolutely and, more importantly, it remains for each nation to well coordinate (or not) each of these in tandem with one another. Essentially, nation-states which achieve victory have historically done so in war not solely through their domination of the military instrument of national power but through their synchronization of that instrument with each of the other’s at its disposal. How, when, where, and why each nation-state does this well is the far more dominant consideration in assessing victory or defeat. Accordingly, this makes such effective and efficient synchronization of national powers towards defined political ends a moral outcome of statecraft. Moreover, a nation-state’s lack of such effective and efficient synchronization of its national powers can, and usually does, undermine the confidence in and trust of that government by its people, particularly if such failure directly contradicts the stated values of the body politic.

These, then, are the threads of war which, taken together and analogous to a garment, constitute the whole of its component weavings. War cannot be described, understood, or envisioned apart from its nature as an inherently human enterprise, and three truths help us in this regard: technology cannot supplant human agency in war; the telos of war remains paramount, and reflects our national character; and, the military instrument of national power must still be waged in synchronization with all other instruments of national power in order to achieve victory. Any nation which fails to keep these truths about the nature of war at the forefront of its thinking risks not only an immediate strategic defeat but also a broader, deeper moral corrosion of the fabric of its people. Put another way, it is more than past time for America to begin the project of recapturing an understanding of the moral nature of war; without that, victory is elusive, if not precluded.