Monthly Archives: April 2011

Christian Soldiers

I am convinced (it is well known) that the New Testament expects a strongly countercultural lifestyle for followers of Christ.  Part of that strange discipleship is a renunciation of violence, in principle if not in fact.  By that I mean that perhaps “heroic exceptions” exist to such an expectation, but that as a matter of lifestyle, Christians should   refuse to be put in positions, such as the military and police, that legitimate the use of force.  The center of the gospel, after all, is the God-man who would let his enemies kill him rather than make himself king by force.

I realize that not all Christians are so convinced.  And part of being committed to nonviolence is being committed to dealing generously and honestly with those who disagree, on their own terms.  It would be a form of rhetorical violence to propose terms and say, “We speak along these lines or not at all.”  For that reason (and others), I take the just-war tradition very seriously.  (Often I feel like I take it more seriously than many who claim to hold it themselves.)  And for that reason I take seriously the claim that a Christian can be a soldier in wartime without violating the clear aspects of Christian discipleship: love of neighbor, love of enemy.

I take the claim seriously, but I am not convinced it is the case.  Even if we ignore the matter of “violence” entirely, war is problematic for Christians.  Following is a handful of reasons, drawn more or less at random, why I find it difficult to accept that Christian discipleship can fit well within the U.S. military.

The Office of the Surgeon General of the United States has for a long time maintained a Textbook of Military Medicine.  In this textbook, it gives general descriptive and prescriptive advice for military command to institute in the armed forces.  These guidelines are not law, but are generally highly regarded.

Radiation from a nuclear explosion or a dirty bomb can be fatal, of course.  Initial symptoms of radiation poisoning are headaches, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea.  Most who die from radiation poisoning die within two weeks.  Here is what the Textbook of Military Medicine states in regard to soldiers in warfare who have been exposed to lethal doses of radiation:

Fatally irradiated soldiers should receive every possible palliative treatment, including narcotics, to prolong their utility and alleviate their physical and psychological distress.  Depending on the amount of fatal radiation, such soldiers may have several weeks to live and to devote to the cause.  Commanders and medical personnel should be familiar with estimating survival time based on onset of vomiting.  Physicians should be prepared to give medications to alleviate diarrhea, and to prevent infection and other sequelae of radiation sickness in order to allow the soldier to serve as long as possible.  The soldier must be allowed to make the full contribution to the war effort.  He will already have made the ultimate sacrifice.  He deserves a chance to strike back, and to do so while experiencing as little discomfort as possible.

From this official prognosis, it would appear that soldiers are stripped, in official ways,, of their humanity.  We as individuals may not know how to respond to someone who has only weeks to live, but we know that they are people and not tools, that they are to be related to and comforted, not in order to “prolong their utility,” but because that is the thing humans do for one another.

This prognosis also assumes something about “the soldier” that Christians cannot embrace: the desire for vengeance.  For the soldier who is a Christian, according to the just war doctrine, “a chance to strike back” can never be an end in itself.  Acts of warfare must always be waged to prevent some specific wrong; they must be “justified.”  Retaliation in itself is not justification.

But there’s more.  Part of basic training is “stress inoculation,” which attempts to make training as much like actual combat as possible, which is to say that combat becomes as much like make-believe as possible.  The military attempts to replicate the light, sound and intensity of combat.  One Army Ranger who fought in Somalia (1993) recalled

I just starting picking them out as they were running across the intersection two blocks away, and it was weird because it was so much easier than you would think.  It was so much like basic training, they were just targets out there, and I don’t know if it was the training that we had ingrained in us, but it seemed to me it was just like a moving target range and you could just hit the target and watch it all and it wasn’t real.

Of course, even with such inoculation, killing feels unnatural to healthy people.  Only about two percent of the population are considered “natural killers.”  According to U.S. military sources, this two percent actually account for up to 50 percent of the kills made by a unit.*  For the other 98 percent of soldiers, there is a natural resistance to killing that must be overcome.

The remorse and revulsion that a soldier can experience after killing, especially at close range, can render soldiers unable to kill again.  Dave Grossman describes the experience as a “collage of pain and horror:”

[M]y experience was one of revulsion and disgust… I dropped my weapon and cried… there was so much blood… I vomited… and I cried… I felt remorse and shame… I can remembering whispering foolishly, ‘I’m sorry’ and then just throwing up.”

The military uses a variety of means to overcome this resistance to killing in its recruits. Instilling hatred of the enemy into soldiers is at the center of these means. Veteran officer J. Glenn Gray wrote that, “Professional officers consider part of the psychological training of their troops to be training in hatred, and this becomes more systematized and subtler as the war goes on.”  Obviously, propaganda plays a part in this, as does ethnic and cultural stereotyping.  Dehumanizing terms like “g**k,” “kr**t” and “sand n***er” are employed, as are euphemisms for killing such as “knocked out,” “lit up” and “engaged.”

If Christians must kill (which, of course, I do not grant), this killing cannot be accompanied by hatred, or be done without regard to the image of God found in all people, whether neighbor or enemy.  Yet the military, in order to be efficient, relies on hatred and dehumanization of the enemy.  At the very least, this makes the idea of Christians serving as soldiers difficult, and I believe the burden is on those within the just-war tradition to explain how soldiering as a profession is within the realm of Christian discipleship.

*Statistic presented in David S. Pierson, “Natural Killers: Turning the Tide of Battle,” Military Review, May 1999


To Be A Christian Voice

I have said before that a genuinely Christian voice is very often missing from political debate.  Christians may support this or that voice in public discussion, but most often these voices are subtly but fundamentally incompatible with Christian theology.

In a different way, many Christians allow their public voices to be defined by the positions they oppose.  Christians enter into the pro-life/pro-choice as though the issue is “when life begins,” assuming an alien notion of agonism that requires such definitions.  Christians enter into economic debate assuming they must either capitulate to Adam Smith or Karl Marx.

But as William T. Cavanaugh prefaced his own short volume on Christian economics, “It is pointless to be for or against the ‘free market’ as such.”  What Cavanaugh sought to do was provide Christian alternatives to participation in a global market that is often incompatible with Christian practice.   But he was by no means the first do so.  In his Secret Faith in the Public Square, Jonathan Malesic prefaces his discussion of Kierkegaard’s critique of capitalism thus:

Although I argue that Kierkegaard’s Christian ethic of neighbor love aimrs at resisting a capitalist paradigm’s encroachment on Christian life, Kierkegaard’s critique is not aimed at capitalism per se in the way that Marx’s contemporary critique was. Rather, as Merold Westphal points out, Kierkegaard aims his critique of capitalism primarily at the deification of society, and thus only accidentally at capitalism as an economic form with heavy influence on society.

In other words, if Malesic is right, Kierkegaard made his critique in a Christian voice.  Malesic goes on to say (and in order to be a Christian voice must say) that “Kierkegaard’s critique and mine are in a sense politically and economically neutral – if some other economic form dominated my society and threatened the integrity of Christian religious life, I would still criticize it.”

What do you think?  Must the Christian voice find a way to be “politically and economically neutral” in order to be a Christian voice?  What would that look like in concrete terms?