The following lecture was recorded during Providence’s 2017 Christianity and National Security Conference.

Keith Pavlischek discusses the history of pacifism and argues that it is not an appropriate Christian approach to world engagement.

Yes, indeed. You probably can’t tell, but I’m not a millennial. I am heading—I truly regret not being able to be here for the entire weekend, but I am heading off to Western Pennsylvania for my fortieth college class reunion. Go Waynesburg! So, I’m going to be able to miss this terrific conference. It talked about the A-Team. I hope you appreciate what Mark and the rest of the folks at IRD and Providence put together for this conference because it really is a terrific lineup.

We have any Washington Capitol fans here in Washington? Yeah, this is my Pittsburgh Penguin back-to-back Stanley Cup celebratory tie. Whoop whoop!

I expected at my reunion I’m going to celebrate with Pittsburgh’s favorite cocktail. It’s called a Veg-C’n. It’s a White Russian—no ice, no cup. So now the funny stuff is over. And as Mark said, I’ve done some work on Just War, so you asked me to talk about pacifism. Here I am. I get to spend, what, half an hour beating up on the pacifists? It makes you feel real guilty. It’s like the punk going into the Amish community and picking on the Amish kids or something, but I hope you see that that’s not really why we would be up here.

Of course, what I’m hoping to do is not provide you with a full taxonomy of Christian pacifism. If you know the work of John Howard Yoder, he wrote one book and talked about some 1932 different brands of pacifism, which I think is kind of ridiculous. But I’m going to give you a hand wave over the last five centuries or so, and I’m going to skip an awful lot, as you’ll see. But I’m going somewhere, and hopefully by the end, you’ll see where I’m going.

So, I’m going to talk about three moments of pacifism or get this text onto me. I always start, even when I’m talking about Just War, by calling attention to a document from the 16th century that is decidedly not Just War. I think it’s particularly important for this gathering because the title here has to do with the divine vocation of government. So, I start with the Schleitheim Confession, which is the most representative statement of Anabaptist or Mennonite principles. It was endorsed unanimously by a meeting of the Swiss Anabaptists in 1527 in Schleitheim, Switzerland. The meeting was chaired by Michael Sattler, who was the leader of a Swiss and German Anabaptist movement. He was executed shortly after this by the Catholics. I should say there was a lot going on at the time.

Now, I’m going to read the most relevant point here concerning the sword. The sword is ordained by God outside the perfection of Christ. Outside the perfection of Christ, it punishes and puts to death the wicked and guards and protects the good. In the law, the sword was ordained for the punishment of the wicked and for their death, and the same sword is now ordained to be used by worldly magistrates. When I do this at an academic conference, I always say, “Well, they don’t make Mennonites like they used to.” Then my pacifist friends get upset. They get all pacifist aggressive on me.

Now, please note that this form of Christian pacifism does not dispute the fact that the use of the sword to promote the good and punish evil is a divine vocation of secular government. They were not and are not opposed to war or police functions as such, but to Christian participation in these activities. For instance, they asked the question in the Catechism, “Shall one be a magistrate if one should be chosen as such?” Their answer was that government majesty is according to the flesh, but the Christian’s is according to the spirit. Their houses and dwellings remain in this world, but the Christians are in heaven. Their citizenship is in this world, but this Christian citizenship is in heaven. The weapons of their conflict and war are carnal and against the flesh only, but the Christians’ weapons are spiritual, against the fortifications of the devil. The worldlings are armed with steel and iron, but the Christians are armed with the armor of God: truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, and the Word of God. It’s a radical dualism. If you often hear echoes of this among modern, even non-pacifist Christian fundamentalists, you’re hearing echoes of it.

The Anabaptists and the Mennonites, along with other peace churches, reached the conclusion that biblical Christianity considered not only military service but all politics, and hence all political offices, outside the purview of the New Testament. Because Christians share in the perfection of Christ, the utmost pain and penalty they could render was excommunication from the church. The gospel contained principles for ruling citizens of the kingdom of heaven but not for the legislation of a secular state in the evil world. Consequently, they held that a Christian may have no role in the state. Their non-participation went all the way down, excluding them from all political participation.

Now, I’m going to quote Calvin’s response, mainly because I’m a Reformed Calvinistic kind of guy. But what I’m going to quote here from Calvin is nothing different from what you would get from Thomas or Augustinians or other non-pacifist traditions. He focused right in on the question of vocation, or at least the passage I’m going to point to. He mustered, as Calvin was wont to do, a ton of exegetical arguments against this position—historical and biblical. He brought a lot of scripture to bear but rejected the argument that the office or vocation of government official, including that of a soldier or a magistrate responsible for bearing the sword, was out of bounds for the individual Christian. In fact, he thought it was crazy to claim that the duties of such officers were good and acceptable when a non-Christian or pagan performed them, but somehow wicked when the Christian performed them. He says, “Which is as if one would say, ‘I confess that this work is commanded of God, but there’s no man that can do it with a good conscience, and also whoever shall do it shall forsake God.’ I pray you, is there any man that hath but one ounce of brains that will speak after this manner?” I don’t know if he wrote this in Latin or French, but I’ve seen some translations say, “What kind of a blockhead thinks like this?” That’s the way polemics were done in the 17th century.

What he’s trying to point out is that scripture speaks in very high regard for the civil magistrate, in Kings in the Old Testament, etc.—higher than other offices that the Anabaptists said you could perfectly fulfill. Yet he says these high offices are to be outside the notion of any conception of a Christian calling.

So, that’s the first example of Christian pacifism. Now, I’m going to jump from what, for centuries, to another form of Christian pacifism. This can be called, whatever term you pick, somewhat pejorative: utopian pacifism, although they would probably not consider it like this, or progressive pacifism. This refers to the type of Christian pacifism that emerged in the late 19th century and early 20th century. It was also the kind of pacifism that was directly challenged by Reinhold Niebuhr in the late 30s. So, my Providence friends, hold on to your hats. Keep Pavel Check, as he’s going to say something really nice about Reinhold Niebuhr. That’s an inside joke because I tend to be on the beat-up Reinhold Niebuhr side of things a lot, but on this, I think he’s absolutely right.

Note that the sectarian pacifism of the peace church tradition—the Mennonites, Church of the Brethren, and to a certain extent, Quakers—was opposed to participation in war. But the folks of this new form of pacifism were opposed to war as such. This came to expression in various efforts to abolish war in both religious and secular visions of a world without war. It’s characterized, says James Turner Johnson, by internationalism, social transformation, individual moral transformation towards peaceful behavior, and universal brotherhood.

Now, I just mentioned James Turner Johnson, who is our foremost contemporary historian of the Just War tradition. I commend him to you; I think it’s impossible to say much intelligent about the history of Just War and pacifism without having worked your way through a big chunk of James Johnson. He’s called attention to a few important underlying assumptions that distinguish the sectarian version of the peace church tradition from various utopian pacifist visions. Among the most important is that the sectarian tradition of the peace churches tends to be profoundly dubious about the possibilities of human history after the fall and outside the perfection of Christ—a much more pessimistic view of human history. So, sin is held in check within that history by c

ivil government and war is one of the means God allows such governments to use to fulfill their functions. By contrast, this more utopian and progressive tradition has always assumed that, according to Johnson, human history is capable of being moved through human action toward a goal of perfection. For these progressives—and again, this was where mainline and even a lot of fundamentalist non-modernist Christians were in the social gospel movement at the turn of the century—war would have no place in the ideal global society towards which progress trends. The abolition of war would hasten the progress of human history toward this goal.

Johnson says that mainstream American religion drank deeply from the stream of progressive social thought during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The non-peace Church Christian pacifism of the World War I era was an outgrowth of the sincere belief that through moral transformation at the individual level, leading to social transformation, the world would grow beyond war. As an incidental side note, some pacifists of this sort could actually embrace war as a means to a utopian end. For instance, they might support World War I as “the war to end all wars” and counteract forces being used for narrow self-interest like capitalism.

If you are familiar with American religious history, you may recall that the fundamentalist-modernist controversy exploded in the early 1920s, shortly after World War I. A large part of this controversy was over theological fundamentals. Fundamentalists looked at World War I and said things weren’t getting better, leading them to retreat and salvage what they could. Meanwhile, many in the mainline social gospel movement were still optimistic and largely ignored the negative aspects of the war. This controversy was significantly influenced by differing views on the nature of history and human progress.

I now turn to Reinhold Niebuhr and his critique of pacifism, as set forth in his work “Why the Church Is Not Pacifist,” published in 1939. As we know, by then it was becoming increasingly hard to believe that things were improving. Niebuhr’s thesis was that the refusal of the Christian Church to espouse pacifism is not apostasy. He argued that most modern forms of pacifism are heresy, even though this heretical form of pacifism was held by his liberal Protestant contemporaries who had reinterpreted the Christian gospel in terms of the Renaissance faith in man.

Niebuhr contended that modern pacifism is merely a final fruit of this Renaissance spirit, which had pervaded modern Protestantism. He argued that we have interpreted world history as a gradual ascent to the kingdom of God, which awaits its final triumph only upon the willingness of Christians to take Christ seriously. Niebuhr was critical of this optimistic view and suggested that such beliefs ignore the reality of human conflict and imperfection.

Michael Novak, writing in 1984, summarized Niebuhr’s criticism. He pointed out that there are two heresies in this context. The first is the heresy which assigns a premature fulfillment of peace and love in this world, akin to Erik Voegelin’s concept of “initizing the eschaton.” The second is the heresy that assigns the state’s rule to be adoptable only by relatively few individuals or small sectarian groups, like the pacifism of the peace churches. Novak argued that these heresies constitute false perfectionism embraced by Christians and are rationalistic and romantic streams of Enlightenment thought, decisively anti-Christian.

Now, I want to address what I call revolutionary non-commitment to nonviolent pacifism. This term is a bit of a joke, but it reflects an unfortunate reality. I’ll refer to a book titled Peace and Revolution: The Moral Crisis of American Pacifism, written by Louie, a professor emeritus at Massachusetts Amherst. This profoundly important book, published about 30 years ago, focuses on the intellectual development and political commitments of four leading American pacifist organizations: the American Friends Service Committee, the Fellowship of Reconciliation, the War Resisters League, and the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom.

Louie’s book was followed by another work, Peace Betrayed: Essays on Pacifism and Politics, by our late friend and colleague Michael Cromartie. Cromartie brought together many pacifists and just war theorists to discuss the book. While Louie’s critics nibbled around the edges, his work is dispositive in exposing how American pacifism, particularly in these organizations, underwent a remarkable transformation over the past twenty years. Louie traced this transformation back to the mid-1960s and noted that what were once single-mindedly devoted pacifists are now defenders of the moral legitimacy of armed struggle and guerrilla warfare, even supporting communist regimes emerging from such conflicts.

This shift demands explanation as it does not immediately make sense. Louie provides an exhaustive analysis of how this transformation occurred, which I don’t have time to delve into here. However, both of these books are worth noting for their insights into the evolution of pacifist thought.

Where does this leave us today? I am not a pacifist and am not particularly concerned about the direction of pacifism itself. My concern is how these views affect those of us who embrace the Just War tradition. Michael Walzer, who is not a Christian and certainly not a right-winger, has commented on this issue. Walzer, known for his classic text Just and Unjust Wars, wrote an article shortly after 9/11 discussing the triumph of Just War theory. 

I believe he wrote this in Dissent or another left-wing magazine, but he received considerable criticism for it. A few years later, he wrote an article for Parameters, which is the Army War College magazine. In that article, he said many clerics, journalists, and professors have invented a wholly different interpretation of Just War theory.

He noted that those of us who adhere to Just War theory have used it appropriately to justify some wars and reject others. However, many journalists, clerics, and professors have reinterpreted it to the point where it is nearly impossible to find a war or conflict that can be justified. Historically, Just War theory was meant to be an alternative to Christian pacifism, but for some of its advocates, it has become a functional equivalent to pacifism—a cover for those unwilling to admit there are no wars they will support. Anyone engaged in these debates over the past decades will recognize this pattern.

One of my growing concerns is that after the collapse of pacifism and the end of the Cold War, it became less fashionable to be a sectarian or utopian pacifist. Consequently, some had to align themselves with the Just War tradition to gain credibility. I would need more time to fully make that argument, but perhaps you have questions about it.

Another concern is the current state of explicit Christian pacifists in this country. I will share an anecdote that I believe is quite revealing. It involves Richard Hayes, a Christian New Testament theologian and a Methodist, who wrote The Moral Vision of the New Testament. In his book, Hayes argues that pacifism is unmistakably clear in the New Testament—so clear that it seems almost absurd not to see it.

However, some of us were not convinced by his argument. In 2000, we published an article in Philadelphia Christiana, a journal of the Evangelical Theological Society, challenging his exegesis. One of the key issues was the question of vocation. We argued that serving in the military or government was not intrinsically evil for a Christian. Hayes responded by comparing military chaplaincy to prostitution. To my knowledge, Hayes has never retracted this comparison.

We are now at a point where prominent American figures, including pastors and chaplains, acknowledge that military service and government roles can be legitimate vocations. This shift contrasts with the classical sectarian pacifist view, which did not recognize these roles as valid. I believe we are in an interesting time, and much more needs to be said. I am sure those who have studied contemporary pacifist writers may have questions, so I will stop here.

[Applause]

Oh, come on. Hello, I’m Anne from King’s College, and my question is about the necessity of war. How should we think about this in light of what Machiavelli says about cruelty being used well and the notion that some things are necessary? How should our Christian beliefs influence our view of the necessity of war, and what kind of tactics or boundaries should we have? How do these differ from other worldviews or religions?

From the Just War tradition, one rejection is pacifism. I have argued against pacifism, and the other rejection is realism untethered from any norms. The Just War tradition rejects the notion that resorting to war can be justified merely as a means of advancing narrow interests. It also rejects the idea that anything can be done in war, asserting that war is not by necessity unlimited.

The Just War tradition would not support claiming necessity without adhering to other norms. These norms are reflected in the criteria of jus ad bellum (the right to go to war) and jus in bello (right conduct within war). These criteria include principles of non-combatant immunity, discrimination, and proportionality. Traditional criteria also encompass right intention and just cause. The tradition is not untethered from these norms, and discussing where they come from is a different conversation.

Hi, my name is Randall Fowler. I’m a doctoral student in communication, rhetoric, and political culture at the University of Maryland. My question concerns non-combatants in the Just War tradition. Given the global political climate characterized by state actors fighting non-state actors, how should the Just War tradition be applied to this specific mode of conflict?

In my opinion, it’s not that complex. The principles of Just War theory can still be applied to conflicts involving non-state actors. The key is to ensure that the application of these principles remains consistent and relevant to the nature of the conflict. I

‘m of the opinion it’s not that complex. Simply stated, you shouldn’t directly or intentionally target non-combatants. The question then becomes how we define a non-combatant. Is the mere fact that a guerrilla is not wearing a uniform or carrying arms openly sufficient to classify them as a non-combatant? Can someone who is a guerrilla by day and a farmer by night escape the protections granted to non-combatants? I would argue that they cannot.

In the context of insurgency and counterinsurgency warfare, things become more complicated. However, in the case of terrorism, I don’t believe it is more complex. Once you determine someone is a non-combatant, you cannot target them. For instance, President Trump’s suggestion to kill more family members is clearly unacceptable.

The next question is whether we can deliberately target combatants while understanding that there may be collateral damage to non-combatants. I argue that the tradition allows for targeting combatants without intending to kill non-combatants, with the criteria for permissible collateral damage governed by the principle of proportionality. At a fundamental level, this is not more complex than in a conventional fight.

Good morning, my name is Dr. Minerva Diaz. As a former Air Force chaplain, my role was to support the active military, reserves, families, and staff in their duties. Although military chaplains do not carry weapons, some people try to impose their views on us, suggesting that our military service contradicts our spiritual calling. This imposition undermines our ability to hear from God and fulfill our roles in society and the military.

I recall when Professor Hayes made a statement about military chaplains. I was not in uniform at the time, and I thought, if he views chaplains this way, what must he think of me? I understand that pacifists may argue against military service, but criticizing chaplains seems particularly unfair. Hayes’s views appear to blend sectarian pacifism with criticism of American imperialism, leading to a contradiction in his stance.

In the 1980s, pacifists embraced revolutionary movements to oppose imperialism and colonialism. Today, we don’t see them urging groups like Hamas to use nonviolent conflict resolution strategies. This merging of pacifist traditions with armed struggle reflects a broader issue within pacifism that disguises its stance under the banner of peace.

Hi, my name is Matthew Erikson, a third-year M.Div. student at Princeton Seminary. I was surprised to find that in my Christian ethics class, Just War Theory was used to promote pacifism. I found it challenging to counteract this because Just War Theory involves prudential judgments, which are heavily influenced by context. Do you have specific advice for addressing this problem?

You’ve pinpointed the issue well. You need to address it on a case-by-case basis. For honest pacifists, engage with them on exegetical grounds. Challenge them with the entire history of Christian thought and ask why they reject Just War Theory if they’re genuinely committed to it. Look at how figures like John Howard Yoder, Stanley Hauerwas, and Richard Hayes interpret the texts.

Paul Ramsey’s work from 1968 is relevant here; he discussed how Just War Theory was being used to oppose modern warfare. He expressed frustration with the idea that Just War Theory could be applied in a way that contradicts its own principles. For a deeper understanding, read Ramsey’s work and consider discussing it further with others who are interested in this topic. 

Very hard, right? And, and, and, and… Afterward, give him my email for further discussion about that.

[Applause] [Music]