When War is Unjust

I just finished the book "When War is Unjust: Being Honest in Christian Just War Theory" by premier teacher and writer on the subject of Jesus, violence and Just War Theory, John Howard Yoder.  While Yoder believes Christians are to follow Jesus' teaching and example by not participating in violence, he stated in another book that he should spend less time trying to convince people to not use violence and more time educating the on the Christian Just War Theory that most Christians claim to follow.  He realized that if Christians were educated on CJWT and committed to living it out, wars would be rare, if not non-existent.

Here are Yoder's thoughts on CJWT from this book.

Pg. 68
Counter to the standard history, the just-war position is not the one which has been taken practically by most Christians since Constantine.  Most Christians (baptized people) in most wars since pacifism was forsaken have died and killed in the light of thought patterns derived from the crusade or the national-interest pattern.  Some have sought to cover and interpret this activity with the rhetoric of the just-war heritage; others have not bothered.  The just-war tradition remains prominent as a consensus of the stated best insights of a spiritual and intellectual elite, who used that language as a tool for moral leverage on a sovereigns for whom the language of the gospel carried no conviction.  Thus just-war rhetoric and consistent pacifism are on the same side of most debates.  When honest, both will reject most wars, most causes, and most strategies being prepared and implemented.

Pg. 78
Does any church teach future soldiers and citizens in such a way that they will know beyond what point they cannot support an unjust war or use an unjust weapon?

Until today church agencies on any level have invested little effort in literature or other educational means to teach the just war limitations… The understanding of the just-war logic that led American young men to refuse to serve in Vietnam came to them not primarily from the ecclesiastical or academic interpreters of the tradition but rather from the notions of fair play presupposed in our popular culture.

Those who conclude, either deliberately or rapidly, that in a given situation of injustice there are no nonviolent options available, often do so in a way that avoids responsibility for any intensive search for such options.  The military option for which they so quickly reach has involved a long lead time in training and equipping the forces… Yet the decision that nonviolent means will not work for comparable ends is made without any comparable investment of time or creativity, without comparable readiness to sacrifice, and without serious projection of comparable costs.

Pg. 80
In sum, the challenge should be clear.  If the tradition which claims that war may be justified does not also admit that in particular cases it may not be justified, the affirmation is not morally serious.  A Christian who prepares the case for a justifiable war without being equally prepared for the negative case has not soberly weighted the prima facie presumption that any violence is wrong until the case for the exception has been made. 

Pg. 94
The Gulf War had a just motive, namely, counteracting an aggression, but “by its own inexorable inner logic” it escalated and inflicted unjustifiable levels of damage.  Thus the theory is “untenable and needs to be abandoned.”  The only justified war would be “pure defense against an aggression actually taking place.”  There are other remedies for the injustices war seeks to rectify.

The ideal appeal to institutions of world order, which, if they existed, ought to make war unnecessary, avoids coming to grips with the tragic choice of martyrdom when the good is authentically overwhelmed.

Pg. 95
Just war thinking:
- tends to obscure the ambiguity of justice claims in conflicts where typically both sides are responsible.
- tends to avoid the imperative of repentance, which is a precondition for reconciliation and self-restraint; thereby it fosters self-righteousness.
- tends to respond only to one episode instead of seeing events in historic continuity.
- condemns overt military action but not other (systemic, institutional) evils.
- credits the intention to avoid targeting the innocent without holding the belligerents responsible for actual disproportionate and/or indiscriminate consequences, undervaluing the suffering caused by calling it collateral or unintended.
-tends to reationalize unilateral action in an age when decisions should be shared.
We may note that while each of these observations implies a serious limitation to the adequacy of just-war thinking, they do not sweep it aside in favor of pacifism, realism, or something else.  If carefully taken account of, these considerations would contribute to a much more refined and dense just-war analysis, which could issue in a heightened capacity for restraint and a greater capacity to give one’s own government a blank check.

Walter Wink, another well-documented and empathetic interpreter, names the following shortcomings:
- No Christian body has ever used the just-war criteria to declare unjust any war in which its government was engaged.
- No war Christians have supported has in fact met the just-war requirements.
- No deliberative process appealing to the repertory of just-war criteria has taken place in the lead-up to any of the major wars of the West.
- The decisive criteria have no clear and objective definition; for example;
     What is the “legitimate authority” in settings of guerrilla insurgency?
     If “aggression” is always wrong, who really started this particular conflict?
     Does democracy change the definition of who the combatants are? 
     Does “total war” change the definition of noncombatancy?

Pg. 98
[There must be a] rejection of public triumphalism.  Back at the beginnings of the just-war tradition, Augustine commented that the acceptance of any killing was “mournful.”  Such regret in the face of killing even when justified was implemented by the rituals of penance for killing even in a just war.  Discerning observers of the American response to the 1991 Gulf War pointed out that a ticker-tape victory parade celebrated just days after tens of thousands of Iraqi deaths demonstrates that the resort to violence in that case was not reluctant and mournful, as the Christian case for just-war requires, but rather triumphal.  The same issues surfaced in Great Britian when some clergy refused to be as happy about the country’s victory over Argentina in the war for the Malvinas/Falklands as was Prime Minster Thatcher.

Pg. 110
In 1993, after the Gulf War, it judged that the bombing of civilian infrastructure, the most morally problematic issue to arise from the Gulf War, “can amount to making war on noncombatants.”

Pg. 112
A particularly serious gap is any lack of provision under US law for selective conscientious objection, that is, objection to military service in particular circumstances because of a conscientious judgment that a given war or military action is contrary to just-war norms.  The Catholic church in the United States has long sought such protection as a corollary to the acceptance of the just-war tradition.
Simply put, if it is morally and even obligatory to engage in a just-war, then it is morally impermissible to participate in an unjust one and one would be morally required to refuse to serve under such conditions.
The failure of the military to revise its own regulations to process selective conscientious objectors, and of the Congress to allow for selective objection on just-war grounds continues to put those who adhere to the just-war tradition in jeopardy.

Pg. 114
In a culture of violence, to be sure, the uses of the just-war tradition can easily degenerate into “a weapon to justify a political conclusion or a set of mechanical criteria that automatically yields a simple answer” quite inconsistent with the underlying intention of the tradition to prevent conflict and to discern the moral limits of justifiable force.

Catholic teaching affirms that “a citizen may not casually disregard his country’s conscientious decision to call its citizens to legitimate acts of defense.”
At the same time, the teaching maintains that “no state may demand blind obedience.”  Accordingly, as we have seen, the church in the United States has actively supported legal protection of those who conscientiously refuse to participate in any war (conscientious objectors) as well as for those who cannot, in good conscience, serve in specific conflicts they consider unjust or in branches of the service (e.g. strategic nuclear forces) which are required to carry out morally repugnant policies (indiscriminate killing).

Pg. 116
In sum, civilian leaders and officials, like military personnel, should be prepared to bear the onus of selective conscientious objection.  While the price one may pay today is not as heavy as it once was, the effectiveness of the just-war tradition as a system of moral constraints on the use of force depends very much on the willingness of conscientious men and women to pay a price for their moral convictions.

Allah: A Christian Response

I recently finished a fascinating book “Allah:  A Christian Response” by renowned theologian Miroslav Volf.  The book is very much worth the read, as Volf tackles the theological question of whether Muslims and Christians worship the same God, though they clearly  have some different perspectives on God.  By the way, the title “Allah” is simply Arabic for God, just like “Theos” is Greek for God or “Dieu” is French for God.  In fact, Arabic speaking Christians also use the title “Allah” to refer to the God worshipped by Christians and Jews. 

I won’t go into all the theological arguments of the book, though I would recommend the time and energy necessary for wading through Volf’s arguments, but in keeping with a main theme of this blog, I will share some of the quotes on the Christian call to love our enemies and to avoid violence.  The call to love our enemies has a particularly poignant applicability when dealing with Muslim extremists. 

Enjoy the quotes.  And have I mentioned this book would be worth a read?  Well, it is. 

Pg. 177
God’s love for the ungodly and human love for enemies are inextricably tied together.  Over the centuries, Christians have not been very good at loving their enemies, to say the least.  We have left a trail of blood and tears as we have marched through history.  Still, human disobedience doesn’t annul the divine command, especially not a command that is so close to the center of the gospel and so bound up with the nature of God.  That’s why even those who transgressed egregiously the command to love enemies still felt compelled to try to reconcile their conduct with the command.  For example, in a letter to Sultan Mehmet II after the Ottoman leader had sacked Constantinople in 1453, Pope Pius II noted, “We are hostile to your action, not to you.  As God commands, we love our enemies and we pray for our persecutors.”  At the same time, the pope went on organizing a crusade against the mighty sultan – which is not, in my judgment, the way to love an enemy.

Pg. 178 –
The point of loving one’s enemies – of “repaying” persecution with blessing, and wrongdoing with forgiveness – is not to put up with evil.  It is to resist being “overcome with evil” and to “overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21).  Martin Luther makes the point eloquently.  The followers of Christ are supposed to “grieve more over the sin of their offenders than over the loss or offense to themselves. And they do this that they may recall those offenders from their sin rather than avenge the wrongs they themselves have suffered.  Therefore they put off the form of their own righteousness and put on the form of those others, praying for their persecutors, blessing those who curse, doing good to the evildoers, preparing to pay the penalty and make satisfaction for their very enemies that they may be saved.  This is the Gospel and the example of Christ.” 
The ultimate purpose of loving one’s enemies is clear: “that they may be saved” from their evildoing and that goodness may triumph.

Pg. 179 -
In New Testament times, Christian communities were a persecuted minority with no aspirations to become a political or military power.  If any fighting were to be done to protect those communities or if any retribution were to be exacted to avenge the injuries they suffered, God was the one, not them, to fight and to exact retribution (see Rom. 12:19; Rev. 19:2).  Violence against enemies was displaced onto God.  God fights Christians do not – neither in their own name nor in the name of God.

Pg. 180 -
“As Muslims,” they [many Muslims] write, “we say to Christians that we are not against them and that Islam is not against them – so long as they do not wage war against Muslims on account of their religion, oppress them and drive them out of their homes.”  Muslims are “not forbidden” from “dealing kindly and justly” with those who are “just” toward them (Al Mumtahinah, 60:8).  Muslims can be kind to non-Muslims as long as they are not against Muslims.  But Muslims are against those who wage war against them.  This is an understandable stance, and it is compatible with the requirements of justice.  But that’s not love for one’s enemies as Christians understand it.  To love, we have to be for someone.  That is the teaching and the example of Christ.  For Christians, this is not just a noble way to live out one’s faith, a supererogatory act, but an explicit and repeated command of God.

Pg. 203 -
Prejudices are errors born of ignorance, self-absorption, resentment, and fear – all stances incompatible with the active love of neighbor enjoined on Muslims and Christians alike by their common God.  The best way to fight prejudice is by knowledge – not just knowledge of people’s beliefs and practices, but knowledge of their feelings and hopes, their injuries and triumphs as well.

Pg. 212 -
It is wrong to compare the best practices of one’s own faith with the worst practices of the other faith.

Pg. 241 -
Religion, as seen as a marker if identity (see Chapter 10), has swallowed up allegiance to the common God.  Even though God is on everybody’s lips, religion has become the godless (or maybe religion is godless partly just because God is on everybody’s lips).  The consequence?  Each community thinks only of its own injuries and hopes, pursuing only its own interests and its own good.  Neither cares for the other or for the common good.  It would take all allegiance to God in love and fear to cure them from self-preoccupation and excessive fear of others, my friend suggested.  To care for the common good, and not just for our own good, in the face of powerful impulses to protect the group and enhance its power, the God of truth, justice and love must claim us.

Pg. 256 -
Extremism does not have a single cause, (say, perceived injustice suffered or dangerous religious convictions); it always has multiple causes – political, economic, cultural, religious, and more.  And if the causes are many, the solution cannot be one.  Multipronged approaches are necessary – from struggles for greater justice in international relations, to the re-crafting of political institutions, to reforming judicial systems, to improving the quality of education and media, to fostering religious understanding and the purification of religious convictions.
Now the exception.  I reject military approaches to combating extremism, though I support nonmilitary coercive measures, such as policing and economic sanctions.  Far from being effective in combating extremism, the use of military force only exacerbates the problem.  If I am correct – I am aware that I am making a controversial claim and that people much more knowledgeable than I disagree with me – that’s an important pragmatic reason against military solutions.  But in my judgment, moral reasons are even weightier than pragmatic ones.  The war in Iraq, partly waged to combat extremism, was an unjust and therefore morally unacceptable war; to a lesser degree the same is arguably true of the war in Afghanistan.
There is a consistent Christian tradition, prevalent in the early church and then resurfacing during the Protestant Reformation, that condemns all use of military force as incompatible with the way of Christ.  But even from a classical Christian perspective, shaped by Augustine, which embraces the just-war idea, these wars or any other wars that may be waged to combat extremism must be condemned as unjust and incompatible with Christian convictions.  Some key criteria for just war cannot be met – above all, just cause for war (because combating extremism through military means as a rule involves preemptive use of force) and immunity for noncombatants (because terrorists hide among civilians), to name just two.  At best, what could be defended within that tradition is targeted attacks against terrorists themselves or their direct supporters.

Pg. 258 -
To start with, remember this is a book written by a Christian and addressed to Christians.  It is a Christian take on Muslim’s convictions, an account of how Christians should relate to Muslims, not  prescription for what Muslims should believe and how they should live.  Can a book addressed to Christians have any bearing on Muslim extremism?  It can.  Note that highly negative views of Islam are widespread among Christians.  True, I know of no Christian who acts on these views by using terrorist means, but many do so by inflammatory rhetoric and advocating an all-out clash between Muslim and Christian civilizations.  Extremism on one side often feeds extremism on the other side; negative views and negative actions often elicit corresponding and even augmented negative view and actions in return.  So combating highly negative – and importantly, inaccurate and prejudiced – Christian views of Muslims is a significant contribution to combating Muslim extremism.

America and the Eigth Sin: Deadly innocence and theological contradictions

The following article is from the Journal of Religion and Health, Winter, 2006 and was written by Ryan Lamothe.

ABSTRACT: In this article, I argue that the cultivation of innocence in the United States, coupled with policies of free market expansionism, the acquisitiveness of capitalism, rising militarism, the hubris of democratic evangelism, free market fundamentalism, and the immense U.S. militaristic and economic power, is an especially fatal sin. In general, I contend that nurturing innocence involves overlooking the inadvertent and advertent destruction and suering that has resulted from U.S. interventionist policies and actions in the 20th and 21st centuries. Finally, I argue that the cultivation of innocence, which is often supported by Christian theological language, contradicts central Christian beliefs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 4: Deadly innocence and theological contradictions

The cultivation of innocence, when combined with unparalleled military and economic power, is deadly not simply to those countries who dare oppose us, as Bush warned, but to ourselves. Notwithstanding the good the U.S. has done over the decades, Americans overlook the physical and psychological damage that result from U.S. interventions. While there are many examples, I address only a few. Supporting Latin American dictators (Cuba, El Salvador, Guate mala, Panama) and the economic colonization of Central America has resulted in thousands of deaths and economic stagnation, if not ruin. Indeed, Johnson (2004) argued that U.S. economic policies toward third-world countries (e.g., Central American nations) are designed to favor the United States and to keep these countries in debt and hence dependent on the United States. When people in these Central American countries began to rebel against dictators friendly to the U.S., the U.S. government fanned the flames of fear by citing the dangers of Communism. We then trained and armed soldiers who were implicated in numerous and devastating human rights abuses (Chomsky, 2004). Harm is not confined to this hemisphere. The Vietnam War cost 57,000 U.S. lives, but the number of North and South Vietnamese causalities dwarfs this number. The decade-long war also resulted in tremendous physical and economic damage to both the North and the South. In Central Asia, the United States supports, for economic and military reasons, two dictators who have "hopeless human rights records" (Johnson, 2004, p. 170). In cooperation with the British government, the United States secured the island of Diego Garcia after the "British deported the island's entire population to Mauritius and the Seychelles, where they continue to live in conditions of poverty and racial discrimination" (p. 221).

The harm done to other nations is always rationalized and often, though not always, accompanied by actions that result in some good being achieved. Glossing over the deadly consequences of expanding U.S. economic and mili tary power as well as preoccupation with maintaining power through eco nomic and military force have psychosocial, spiritual, and moral consequences. An intense attachment to an empire identity and the glorifi cation of and preoccupation with military and economic power and dominance screen a deep fear and emptiness in the American psyche. This emptiness stems from the tendency to make transcendent what is contingent and rela tive, which is not simply a psychological problem, but a spiritual one as well. A sign of this spiritual emptiness is found in the frantic attempts to return to being a Christian God-fearing nation, which is almost always coupled with maintaining military dominance. The moral (and spiritual) damage comes in two forms. First, denial and rationalization of the harm, done by the United States, represent the refusal to take responsibility, which is a sign of impov erished moral perspective. Also, if one does not take responsibility, then for giveness and reconciliation cannot be realized. Second, the moral and spiritual impoverishment associated with hubris, denial, and rationalization accom panies a remarkable lack of compassion and empathy for those who have suffered. As Baldwin (1955) wrote, "In overlooking, denying, evading (our) complexity...we are diminished and we perish.... [This] formula created by necessity to find a lie more palatable than the truth has been handed down and memorized and persists yet with terrible power" (pp. 15-16).

The physical damage to our society from the cultivation of innocence is difficult to assess. The cultivation of innocence, I have argued, is inextricably yoked to pride and power (military and economic). Since the end of the Cold War, the United States has not decreased defense spending. Currently, we spend more money on "defense" (a euphemism) than all the countries in the world combined. Many poor and low income people in the United States could benefit from social programs. Money diverted from the military expedition in Iraq could have aided African nations struggling with the AID's epidemic. There are, in other words, people who suffer at the lower stratum of society because funds are used instead for expanding military and economic power. It is an especially vicious illusion to think that the poor in the United States benefit from the expansionist efforts of the United States.

Theological contradictions lie at the heart of our cultivation of innocence, which is so deadly. As far as I know, there is no scriptural basis for suggesting that God has chosen the United States for a salvific role in the world. Indeed, I am not aware of any reputable scripture scholar who would suggest this. A related oddity regarding Christian interpretation of America's role in the world is that we seem to forget that Rome was the empire during the time of Jesus' life, ministry, and death. Jesus did not embrace Pax Romana and even went so far as to differentiate between one's duty to the Roman political realm and the spiritual realm. An earthly empire, in other words, was not part of the Gospel message. This said, from a Christian perspective, the idea of the U.S. being a chosen people in salvation history seems odd, considering that Christians claim that Jesus is the savior (and not an empire or nation). Put another way, I cannot find anywhere in scripture where it says that democ racy and free market economies are part of the divine plan of salvation, though this does not mean semantic gymnastics cannot be used to rationalize, theologically, salvific democracy and capitalism.

Even if one wishes to do mental gymnastics to argue for the U.S.s' special role inthe world, there are more fundamental theological contradictions con cerning the cultivation of innocence. Christian theologies all recognize that human beings are sinful and thus not innocent. We may be innocent in terms of being a victim of this or that crime, but we are not in and of ourselves innocent. During WWII, H. Richard Niebuhr (1943) wrote about just war and its relation to crucifixion. He concluded that while no single answer "can be given....one thing will be common in all actions which are based on such an understanding of war: there will be in them no effort to establish a righ teousness of our own, no excusing the self because one has fallen less short of the glory of God than others" (p. 515). Niebuhr was pointing out that even in so-called just wars we are not completely innocent. Killing may be justified, but this is not a reason to proclaim one's innocence before God and others.

Another contradiction with regard to the cultivation of innocence and the making of the U.S. Empire emerges when one faces how early Christian writers understood Jesus in relation to power. In Jesus' conversation with Pilate (John 19), he clearly refuses to use power to fight the Romans. In Philippians (2:6-7), we read that Jesus Christ "did not regard equality with God something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness." In both cases, the power of Jesus was not found in coercion and violence, which are tools empires rely on to extend and maintain power. Rather, Jesus' power was founded in his love for God and human beings and his compassion for those who suffer. A person can defend the policies that are aimed toward empire building, but one can hardly defend these from a Christian perspective. Thus, the Christian, theo-political rhetoric that justifies American expansionism is fundamentally anti-Christian in the sense that it does not represent in any way Christ's self-understanding of his relation to God and the world and the use of power. As we know in any cursory reading of history, not everyone who invokes Christ's name is from Christ.

The final contradiction concerns the Gospel message?"I came so that they may have life and have it abundantly." The Gospel message does not single out one people for God's grace. To be an empire, however, means being concerned about enhancing our life; this is the aim of the colonization of others. To build and maintain an empire requires the exploitation and coercion of others for the sake of furthering the economic power of the empire. Surely client-states benefit, but the underlying goal is to further the life of the empire. No empire in history, including the American empire, survives by having policies geared toward the idea that others may have life and have it abundantly, except in the rhetoric used to exploit others. The cultivation of innocence overlooks this key Gospel message, and any defense of the American empire using Christian concepts is, at best, misbegotten, and at worst, a slick deception.

In conclusion, these contradictions do not mean that American Christians who support the American empire are not Christian. All Christians suffer some contradiction, which Kierkegaard (1846) noted when he wondered if there were any Christians in Christendom. Yet, in a country that cultivates innocence, often through flowery theo-political rhetoric, we need reminders that all empires are deeply and tragically flawed, that no empire lasts forever, and that no empire offers salvation. This is not a counsel of despair, but a possible remedy through responsibility, forgiveness, and reconciliation

America and the Eighth Sin: Psychosocial dynamics of the cultivation of innocence

The following article is from the Journal of Religion and Health, Winter, 2006 and was written by Ryan Lamothe.

ABSTRACT: In this article, I argue that the cultivation of innocence in the United States, coupled with policies of free market expansionism, the acquisitiveness of capitalism, rising militarism, the hubris of democratic evangelism, free market fundamentalism, and the immense U.S. militaristic and economic power, is an especially fatal sin. In general, I contend that nurturing innocence involves overlooking the inadvertent and advertent destruction and suering that has resulted from U.S. interventionist policies and actions in the 20th and 21st centuries. Finally, I argue that the cultivation of innocence, which is often supported by Christian theological language, contradicts central Christian beliefs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Part 3: Psychosocial dynamics of the cultivation of innocence

Every sin, one could argue, carries a unique psychosocial signature of moti vations and defenses (cf. Capps, 1987; Schimmel, 1992; LaMothe, 2002). Time and space limit a thorough examination of the cultivation of innocence in terms of defenses and motivations, though I wish to identify several key psychosocial features associated with this sin, namely, adhesive identification, weak dissociation, rationalization, and the refusal to surrender. These psy chological defenses may be further understood as socially shared ways of organizing experience. This said, defenses are usually understood as intra psychic processes and are inherently reductive when applying them to such complex phenomena as social behavior and identity. I do not make any claims that these are definitive explanations, though I believe they are heuristic.

Bick's (1968) and Meltzer's (1975) research into the psychological life of infants coined the terms "adhesive identification" and "adhesive identity," which they argued was a more primitive or earlier form of narcissistic iden tification. Their work with adult patients and observations of autistic infants led them to question the idea of object identification. Infants, they noted, appear to cling adhesively to their mother's body and to other surfaces, which they believed is the infant's attempt to obtain a sense of contact for the sake of psychic integration and avoidance of annihilation anxiety. They also found this concept helpful in understanding some adult patients, though the concept was further differentiated between normal developmental adhesive identifi cation and defective adhesive identification as seen, for example, in schizo phrenia (Grotstein, 1977). Tustin emended this view, adding the term "adhesive equation." "In adhesive equation," Tustin argued, the 'subject' feels the same as the 'object' (no space between them) while in adhesive identifi cation the 'subject' feels similar to the 'object' (there is space between them)" (in Mitrani, 1995, p. 355). What these theorists were identifying was a manner of organizing experience and relating whereby the subject and object were, from an epistemological point of view, inseparable, which is not identical to the psychoanalytic idea of merger. There is, in other words, an epistemological confusion between the subject and the subject's object, which was, in part, motivated by the need for psychic integration, a sense of going on being, to quote Winnicott (1971), and conversely to avoid annihilation anxiety?that is, the loss of the object means a corresponding loss of self or disintegration.

At first glance, then, the concept would not seem to fit well with routine, non-pathological forms of adult social interactions. Yet, I am suggesting, following in the footsteps of Loewald (2000), Mitchell (2000), and Ogden (1989), that if we understand adhesive identification to refer to cognitive processes implicated in a particular pattern of organizing experience (and relating), then one could identify traces of this early form of identification in some adult interactions. In other words, Ogden argued that "human experi ence is the product of the dialectical interplay of three modes (autistic-con tiguous, paranoid-schizoid, and depressive) of generating experience.... Each mode creates, preserves, and negates the other" (p. 4). Adult organizations of experience and relating, then, comprise earlier cognitive process. The pres ence of intense anxiety may hyperactivate one or more modes. In the case of adhesive identification, those cognitive processes associated with perception of the object as inextricably a part of the self are present in normal and patho logical adult behaviors

In terms of the cultivation of innocence, traces of adhesive identification are found in the intense and rigid idealization, if not, glorification of American identity. The belief in America's divine mission or special place in history signifies a transcendent belief that corresponds to an unconscious clinging to a cherished idea that provides people a sense of identity or going on being. Put differently, there is an illusion wherein persons unconsciously believe that the survival of the object (U.S. as a constellation of representations, ideas, and values) will secure their sense of going on being, even if one dies. The object, while rationally viewed as distinct, is, at the unconscious level, one with the subject. Critiquing or challenging the object evokes intense anxiety (trans formed into more manageable affect like rage and hostility) associated with the loss of one's identity and sense of going on being. Contrived innocence is the opposite of critique, ambiguity, and paradox, reflecting a purity or oneness with the adored object to which tenaciously clings.

The underside of innocence and, correspondingly, the underside of intense and rigid emotional identification with a cherished object are hatred and hostility. Consider the bumper sticker, "America, Love it or Leave It," which signifies and communicates a shared and underlying hostility and anger. The bumper sticker is aimed at those who question and critique American policies. The motivation is to split off or get rid of persons who challenge or question the United States, preserving the unblemished ideal of being American. This desire also signifies a form of attachment wherein the object (U.S. as a con stellation of representations, ideas, and values) is identical to or indistin guishable from the subject. Those who question or reject certain shared beliefs are a threat to this prized identity. The notion that one cannot simultaneously question and critique and be a "true" American indicates there is a confusion of the subject with the subject's object. Stated another way, the inability or refusal to recognize the object's inadequacies signifies an unconscious belief that the subject and the object are one. To critique the object is a threat to the subject?a subject entirely dependent on the object. This said, there is nothing inherently pathological about a person's use of this bumper sticker, though in my view it is a cultural artifact that represents cognitive processes associated with adhesive identification and the defense against intense anxiety associ ated with the loss of one's sense of going on being.

Another psychological feature of the cultivation of innocence is weak dis sociation. Dissociation refers to a defense whereby a representation and affect "escape the control of consciousness and develop independently" (Ellenberger, 1970, p. 371) and entails "a contraction of the field of consciousness" (in Me ares, 2000, p. 45). While dissociation represents unformulated experience that escapes consciousness and symbolization, it is important to point out that the person is "organizing his mind in a way that protects the good self and other from persecution and dread of annihilation" (Keylor, 2003, p. 219). Stern (1997) argued that narrative rigidity, which is a complex form of organizing one's mind, is an example of dissociation in the weak sense. An inflexible narration means that other ideas, meanings, values, and affects are excluded and, therefore, remain unformulated. This "passive dissociation...is indirect, because it is a consequence of so insistently turning our attention elsewhere that we never even notice alternative understandings. Focal attention under these conditions is controlled by the intention to enforce narrative rigidity" (p. 132). Hostility and rage toward alternative renderings of American intentions and actions signify the presence of a rigid narrative and narration. In terms of the cultivation of innocence, weak dissociation is manifested whenever persons continue to rely on story lines that protect against inter pretations associated with blame, responsibility for harm, repentance, loss of power and prestige, and loss of an idealized self-image.


Consider the stories told in the U.S. about the reasons for invading Iraq. As it began to be clear that Iraq did not have weapons of mass destruction, the Bush administration relied on the tried-and-"true" American myth of bringing freedom, democracy, and market economy to Iraq and the Middle East. For the most part, the American media, which may have tentatively questioned the reasons for going to war, supported this story. It is not that this story was false. Rather, that it was told and re-told so that it crowded out other inter pretations and perspectives that would contradict more altruistic claims. For example, Iraq was militarily and economically weak as well as estranged from most of its Arab neighbors. Thus, it was a prime target for the United States to further establish military and economic power in a region that is rich in oil (Bacevich, 2005). In a world where oil is the lifeblood of "advanced" (a term also associated with weak dissociation) economies, the most powerful country wants to have influence, if not control, over a region that produces most of the world's oil. In so doing, the U.S. solidifies its hegemony. This interpretation of mere self-interest in maintaining hyperpower status contradicts altruistic claims about bringing freedom and democracy to Iraq.

Closely associated with weak dissociation, Stern (1997) argued, is ratio nalization. The function of rationalization "is to render material acceptable, understandable, comfortable, straightforward; to rob it of all puzzling elements" (Bartlett, in Stern, p. 136). Put differently, rationalization simpli fies reality by eschewing anything that would contradict cherished meanings that conflict with an idealized identity. Rationalization undergirds Baldwin's view that Americans "have the most remarkable ability to alchemize all bitter truths into an innocuous but piquant confection and to transform their moral contradictions, into a proud decoration" (1955, p. 31). Bacevich (2005) also noted that "new American militarism draws much of its sustaining force from myth?stories created to paper over incongruities and contradictions that pervade the American way of life" (p. 97). Our narratives and narrations are inextricably yoked to rationalizations that transform ugly consequences into beauty and wickedness into righteousness.

The power of these rationalizations resides in the fact that they signify, to some degree, truths. For example, the story told about the recent invasion of Iraq was that American soldiers were sent to liberate Iraqis from a despot. Clearly, this is partly true. Many Iraqis were oppressed and were initially happy to be rid of Saddam Hussein. However, this rationalization screens out the fact that the United States does not overthrow all despots. It denies the self-interested motivation to secure Middle East oil production for economic purposes. Rationalization is so powerful because it parleys a small truth into an overarching truth that shields one from other viewpoints that contradict the posited truth. In brief, weak dissociation and it s partner, rationalization, support a contrived innocence, smoothing over anything that would contradict our stories and simplify complex reality.

Adhesive identification, weak dissociation, and rationalization are symp tomatic of the refusal to surrender. The idea of surrender may be a frightening word in a nation that is an empire and for those interested in maintaining the illusion of innocence. Yet, surrender is one's willingness to be open to, moved by, and shaped by the other's subjectivity (cf. Ghent, 1990). It is a willingness to learn from the other person with the aim of understanding him/her, which does not necessarily mean agreement. To surrender also implies openness to correction as well as perspectives and experiences that differ from one's own. This said, surrender does not mean abdicating one's views or submitting to coercive demands. Rather, it means being able to create space to hold other perspectives in tension. The creation of this space helps "us to rid ourselves of the habit of always hearing only what we already understand" (Heidegger, 1971, p. 58).

The refusal to surrender to the other's needs, experiences, and desires is embedded in the cultivation of innocence. To cultivate innocence means holding onto na?ve and simplistic perspectives and avoiding contact with anyone who might raise the specter of error, self-interest, greed, and entitle ment. In other words, the refusal to surrender is a defense against being moved and shaped by the other. For example, in the debates leading up to the second Iraq War, many Americans agreed with Rumsfeld's critique of "Old Europe." There were calls to ban French products and Germany was viewed as having betrayed the U.S. As far as I could tell, there was little evidence of U.S. administration and American citizens listening to and being open to perspectives that differed from the expectations and demands of the U.S. government. Indeed, I recall one gentleman angrily denouncing the French for not supporting the U.S., especially after we liberated France in 1944. Apparently, aiding in the liberation of another country forever binds it to the liberator.

In my view, the underlying motivation for this refusal to surrender to those who differed was fueled by anxiety. Like any refusal to surrender, anxiety is linked to change and an underlying sense that one will have to "surrender" one's control. In other words, the refusal to surrender represents a desire to be invulnerable and the underside of this desire is the wish to dominate the other?to subjugate the other to one's views. If the "other" continues to differ or is viewed as resisting, then one can expect the response to be one of rejection and attack, which makes the possibility of surrender even more remote.

In a country where people understand and accept hyperpower status, the idea of surrender is equated with treason, submission, and loss. Indeed, the very idea contradicts the intended policies of expanding U.S. economic and military power throughout the world (Johnson, 2004). Of course, the idea of surrender and its cognate, vulnerability, are probably inimical to any gov ernment, yet I am suggesting that citizens who adhere to U.S. innocence rely on this and other defenses to secure an indestructible sense of individual and collective identity that is free from the taint of failure, disappointment, shame, and guilt. When people are assured of their innocence there is no hope for the kind of vulnerability associated with forgiveness and reparation.

America and the Eighth Deadly Sin: Sources and characteristics of the cultivation of innocence

The following article is from the Journal of Religion and Health, Winter, 2006 and was written by Ryan Lamothe.

ABSTRACT: In this article, I argue that the cultivation of innocence in the United States, coupled with policies of free market expansionism, the acquisitiveness of capitalism, rising militarism, the hubris of democratic evangelism, free market fundamentalism, and the immense U.S. militaristic and economic power, is an especially fatal sin. In general, I contend that nurturing innocence involves overlooking the inadvertent and advertent destruction and suering that has resulted from U.S. interventionist policies and actions in the 20th and 21st centuries. Finally, I argue that the cultivation of innocence, which is often supported by Christian theological language, contradicts central Christian beliefs.
Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Part 2: Sources and characteristics of the cultivation of innocence


Nations and national identities4 are supported by collectively held stories and rituals. These stories and rituals comprise the cherished beliefs, values, expectations, and attitudes that people of the nation, in varying degrees, tacitly accept and live out, even though most of the time this is not given much critical thought or deliberation. Elected leaders and the media in the U.S. often refer to and use these shared stories and ideals. I identify four central ideas that are linked to shared myths of the United States' role in the world and that are essential to the cultivation of innocence and its place in the American psyche. These characteristics are not in themselves sins, but instead are manifestations of a tragic and an idolatrous relation that is integral to the cultivation of innocence.

There is a strong strain of idealism in U.S. political life, which has deep roots in our history and in the stories we tell about ourselves. When Ronald Reagan said, "I have always believed that this anointed land was set apart in an uncommon way, that a divine plan placed this great continent here between two oceans to be found by people from every corner of the earth who have a special love of faith and freedom" (quoted in Lundestad, 1990, p. 17), he was representing a long tradition of secular idealism mixed with theology. Indeed, Reagan merely echoed Woodrow Wilson's belief in the U.S.'s global mission to democratize the world and bring about the "ultimate peace of the world" (Johnson, 2004, pp. 47-48). Democrats and Republicans alike have believed in the special mission of the U.S., using terms like, "a city upon a hill," "a chosen people," "the Israel of our time," and "God's own country" (see Lundestad, 1990). This idealistic, politico-theological rhetoric was heard in Clinton's reference to the end of the Cold War as "the fullness of time" and the U.S. as an "indispensable nation" (Bacevich, 2002). It continues today in the religious triumphalism and moralism of the Bush administration's justifica tion for military interventions in the Middle East and elsewhere (Ryn, 2003). The ideas that the U.S. is chosen by God and has a special role in history are not simply held by people who are deeply religious. It is rooted in the grand narratives that children learn in school and it is the background presence of media reporting. Bacevich (2002), for example, argued persuasively that Americans hold onto the myth that we are a reluctant nation whenever we go to war and this myth is accompanied by the shared belief that we are bringing both democracy and capitalism to those who are not so blessed. Another example of this mythical reluctance is found in the rhetoric justifying the first and second Iraq wars, which alternated from security as the major reason to bringing stability and democracy to the Middle East. In both instances, we were a reluctant and patient nation having to take leadership, especially in the second Iraq war, when Old Europe, to use Rumsfeld's term, wavered. There is, in this idealistic strain, the pervasive illusion of altruism. In the face of a great deal of evidence to the contrary (see Johnson, 2000, 2004), Americans believe and wish to believe that we are interested in only helping other less fortunate countries enjoy the freedoms and wealth that we have acquired through our own hard work.

The illusion of altruism?the illusion that our actions are fundamentally and solely for the good of others?is the first necessary feature in cultivating innocence. In holding onto this illusion, we overlook and deny the conse quences of interventionist foreign policies (Johnson, 2004).5 This is not to gainsay the contributions and sacrifices of Americans who have worked to help those in other countries. However, I am speaking of an attitude and tendency that is integral to the cultivation of innocence and the corresponding denial of the suffering and harm created by interventionist foreign policies. Baldwin (1955), in writing about racism, noted this tendency, saying, "Americans, unhappily, have the most remarkable ability to alchemize all bitter truths into an innocuous but piquant confection and to transform their moral contradic tions into a proud decoration" (p. 31). We do this, in part, by telling and re-telling the myth in our goodness, in our divine chosenness to spread democracy and free market capitalism throughout the world.

Let me point to two examples of the latent presence of altruism in manifest expressions of outrage and fear. We are often told of the sacrifices of the Greatest Generation and the just war they fought and won. Indeed, if there was ever a just war it was WWII, though a just war, as Niebuhr (1942, 1943) noted in War as Crucifixion and War as Judgment, does not mean we escape responsibility and judgment. Many Americans, as Niebuhr discovered, found and find it difficult to confront and take responsibility for the horror inflicted on enemy populations (e.g., fire bombings of Dresden, Tokyo, and numerous other cities; the dropping of atomic bombs on Nagasaki and Hiroshima), because to do so would challenge the mythic belief in our essential goodness. The attending language of just war theory was and is closely allied with the belief in our essential goodness, which together serves to rationalize and deny harm to civilian populations. The presence of the illusion of altruism can also be seen in the 9/11 Newsweek cover, Why Do They Hate Us. Notwithstanding the horror, pain, and suffering of 9/11, the cover reveals the underlying myth of altruism in the midst of shock and fear. In other words, the disbelief in the question presumes innocence (How Could They Hate Us, would be a more apt title), which I argue is inextricably yoked to the mythic narratives of the goodness of American intentions and actions throughout the world.
The illusion of altruism accompanies the second attribute necessary in the cultivation of innocence, namely a deep sense of entitlement. Cultural observer and critic Lasch (1979) believed that "new social forms require new forms of personality, new modes of socialization, new ways of organizing experience" (p. 50). In surveying the American social landscape, Lasch thought that the concept of narcissism, despite its shortcomings, "provides us...with a tolerably accurate portrait of the 'liberated' personality of our time, with his charm, his pseudo-awareness of his own condition, his promiscuous pansexuality, his fascination with oral sex, his fear of the castrating mother, his hypochondria, his protective shallowness, his avoidance of dependence, his inability to mourn, his dread of old age and death" (p. 50). To this list, Bellah et al. (1985) would add exaggerated individualism, self-reliance, and fear of commitment. These observers of U.S. culture also note a sense of entitlement in the American psyche. The beliefs in the goodness and moral rightness of the U.S. are inseparable from a deep sense of entitlement?the belief that we deserve to have power and riches. This sense of privilege is embedded, as Ryn (2003) and Lundestad (1990) both noted, in American foreign policies and actions. Because we are a special nation, because we are chosen and blessed by God (putative evidence is economic and military power), we have the right to intervene in the affairs of nations and a right to amass wealth and power.

The third factor implicated in the cultivation of innocence is simplification. Human beings, theologian Farley (1990) noted, are fundamentally tragic creatures because in grasping reality by way of language we distort it. Lan guage only captures a tiny portion of life. Simplification is the tendency to believe that my portion stands for the whole. Put differently, simplification is the conscious and unconscious practice of eschewing complexity, ambiguity, doubt, and uncertainty by believing that one's interpretations of reality are the truth. Simplification is seen as the stark division of the world into us or them. For example, the social anger and hostility toward "Old Europe" for dis agreeing with the United States' march toward war is an illustration of reducing complex reality into slogans that shield oneself from doubts or questions about one's view of reality and the consequences of one's actions. George W. Bush's simplistic categorization of Iran, Korea, and Iraq as the axis of evil is another example of this tendency, illustrating what Hall (1991) identifies as a strand of simplism in evangelical Christianity.

Simplification, which Bollas (1992) argued is inherent in the belief in one's innocence and the defense mechanism of denial, is inextricably linked to a belief in the inherent goodness of American policies and intentions and a grandiose sense of entitlement. In combination, simplification becomes a key factor in screening the messiness of our motives and actions in the world and serves to keep dissenters at bay. For example, the rhetoric around the second Iraq War was framed in terms of security and later as our aim to bring free dom and democracy to Iraq and to the Middle East. Even if one sincerely believes in these aims, it shields the historical complexity of the Middle East (e.g., the role of colonial powers and the United States toward Saudi Arabia and other countries), the motives of the U.S. (e.g., securing Middle East oil and insuring military presence in the region), the varied experiences, needs, and desires of Middle Eastern citizens, and of the diversity of religious and polit ical beliefs in the Middle East. This simplification attends a nurtured naivete that the U.S. is simply trying to make life better for "these" people. James Baldwin identified this tendency when speaking of racism in the United States. He (1955) wrote, "(F)or there is a great deal of will power involved in the white man's na?vet?. Most people are not naturally reflective any more than they are naturally malicious, and the white man prefers to keep the black man at a certain remove because it is easier for him thus to preserve his simplicity and avoid being called to account for crimes committed by his forefathers, or his neighbors" (p. 166).

The final factor necessary in the cultivation of innocence is pride. The theme of pride or American arrogance has been consistently identified by many who have tried to depict and understand the expansionist policies and actions of Democratic and Republican administrations since the 19th century. Decades ago, Reinhold Niebuhr pointed to this when he noted that Americans tend to see themselves as "tutors of mankind in its pilgrimage to perfection" (in Bacevich, 2002, p. 54). Even before 9/11, it was often heard from politicians and citizens that the United States is the greatest country in the world, which, if measured solely in terms of military expenditures, bellicosity, and economic power, may be close to the truth, though it is a very narrow and hollow truth. Since 9/11, American pride can be seen in the elaborate, triumphalistic, self congratulatory social rituals such as baseball's World Series and the Super Bowl and in the media spectacle of George W. Bush's landing on a U.S aircraft carrier, proclaiming "Mission accomplished." It is evident in the media and in the common speech that refer to all American wounded and dead as heroes, and taking pride in their sacrifice.6 We see it on bumper stickers such as the "Power of Pride," the proliferation of American flags, and the eclipse of any views from public discourse that challenge prevailing myths.

Pride, which is closely associated with entitlement, involves the idealization (if not glorification) of the United States' role in the world. Idealization is a partner of innocence because it includes the tendencies to overlook and deny anything that does not fit within the idealized image. Criticism, doubt, and ambiguity are simply shrugged off or violently rejected. I recall comments made after the easy invasion of Iraq that ranged from statements of pride in our military to outright pugnacious pride in "kicking their butts" (even given the fact that Iraq had a fourth-rate military). These instances of pride reflect the absence of empathy or compassion toward Iraqis who suffered the damage, killing, terror, and humiliation of the war. Someone will no doubt cite the Iraqis who were and are delighted to be free of Saddam. True, but the immediate introduction of this "fact" or other "good" things we have done shields the harm that resulted from U.S. aggression and pride.

These four factors, which are intertwined with and supported by American myths and rituals, are necessary ingredients to the cultivation of innocence. As stated above, with the exception of pride, these factors are not, in them selves, considered to be sin. Yet, together they form contrived innocence, which, when combined with the will to power (Ryn, 2003) as well as economic and military force, is an especially deadly sin because it denies our less savory motivations, overlooks harmful consequences of U.S. interventionist policies and actions, and reserves compassion and empathy only for those who agree with U.S. actions. Indeed, it is a deadly sin precisely because of its relation to pride and power, the use of which has resulted in much harm, though some good (see Johnson, 2000, 2004; Chomsky, 2004).

In terms of the idea of sin, the cultivation of innocence may be understood as disobedience and as a tragic response to human finitude. To believe, con sciously or unconsciously, in one's innocence is to reject the very reality of one's relation to God. This relation, as Creator and created, involves the rec ognition that all human beings are created in the image and likeness of God and that all human beings, while created good, are neither perfect nor inno cent. Human beings cannot claim they are innocent, not simply because of sin, but because of human ignorance. There is no way of knowing absolutely we are innocent and it is this inability to know that leads to our dependence on God's grace and forgiveness. In addition, to wage war, to argue that one is better than others, to use economic and military means to secure entitlement to power and goods, require the rejection of the equal status of the other?equal in real, measurable, not rhetorical dignity. The cultivation of innocence is a form of disobedience whenever it is accompanied by declarations that as a "chosen nation" we know the truth that will save the world.
Innocence, as sin, can also be understood as a response to human finitude. The anger and hostility directed toward any person pointing out America's destructive actions and self-interested foreign interventions reflects, in my view, a tremendous amount of anxiety with regard to facing and losing a highly cherished national identity. Newsweek's cover may have been an initial step toward mourning this idealized, grandiose, and na?ve collective identity, but it quickly died under the weight of the Bush administration's bellicose hype and further pronouncements of U.S. goodness and innocence. Anxiety, in other words, was channeled or transformed into hostility and anger, which continued to be fueled by the fear that the U.S. would face another attack. Yet, I also argue that the fear and anxiety that underlie the cultivation of inno cence are linked to the threat of other losses associated with being an empire loss of entitlement and privilege, loss of purpose and meaning, and loss of power. To ward off fear and anxiety associated with the limits of human reality (i.e., vulnerability), Americans tell and re-tell stories of their goodness and their divine chosenness in the world, leaving compassion and empathy for others in the wake of glory and greed.

America and the Eighth Deadly Sin: Sin and Deadly Sins

The following article is from the Journal of Religion and Health, Winter, 2006 and was written by Ryan Lamothe.

ABSTRACT: In this article, I argue that the cultivation of innocence in the United States, coupled with policies of free market expansionism, the acquisitiveness of capitalism, rising militarism, the hubris of democratic evangelism, free market fundamentalism, and the immense U.S. militaristic and economic power, is an especially fatal sin. In general, I contend that nurturing innocence involves overlooking the inadvertent and advertent destruction and suering that has resulted from U.S. interventionist policies and actions in the 20th and 21st centuries. Finally, I argue that the cultivation of innocence, which is often supported by Christian theological language, contradicts central Christian beliefs.
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 1 - Sin and Deadly Sins

Over the millennia, theologians have sought to identify and understand par ticular sins as well as the source(s) of sin. For example, Augustine, following the Pauline view that sin was introduced through Adam and Eve's disobedi ence of God's command, understood sin to be a "turning away from God, the supreme good, and turning toward the world or changeable goods in an inordinate way" (Williams, 1985, p. 199). In locating sin in the first act of disobedience, Augustine believed sin to be part of the human condition; we all bear the stain of the first sin. Aquinas continued this tradition, arguing that sin represented the loss of original righteousness, which was present before the Fall (Williams, p. 204). According to Aquinas and others, original sin is passed down to each generation; each child is marked with the sin of the first couple. The mark is evident in the insufficiency of reason and will to choose the good alone, hence the need for divine grace, which builds on nature.

Riceour (1974) critiqued these quasi-biological and quasi-juridical notions of original sin, while at the same time arguing that there are anthropological truths represented in Biblical and theological myths about sin. One of the insights of the myth of original sin is that sin "is my true situation before God. The TDefore God' and not my consciousness of it is its measure of sin" (p. 282). "Before God" means that while human beings are created good, we are, in part, estranged from God and others (Tillich, 1957), which is not sin, but simply a feature of creation. So, an infant is before God and in the midst of his/ her estrangement, which precedes his/her consciousness of God, his/her experience of estrangement, and his/her individual acts of sin.

Riceour was careful to point out that we do not inherit sin. Rather, we inherit the freedom, limits, and ambiguity that attend the reality of being human (Riceour, 1974; see also, Haight, 1991). This human reality, according to Farley (1990), is fundamentally tragic?we must grasp reality, but in the very process of grasping reality we distort it. Corradi-Fuimara (1990) made a similar point when she said, "We are weighed down by the humiliating real ization that whichever logic we use to prevent ourselves from being over whelmed is itself ultimately a bearer of violence" (p. 97). All human beings inherit the propensity to respond to the existential limits of human life and accompanying anxiety by sinning. One could say we sin, in part, as a way of avoiding the anxiety and suffering associated with the limits of life.

The idea that sin is an aspect of the human condition still leaves us won dering what sin is and what is deadly about deadly sins. Aquinas, like Augustine, believed sin was rooted in disobedience. The act of turning away, or disobedience, is a disordered action that has "two inner causes: its imme diate cause is reason and will, but beyond that there lies imagination and sense-appetite" (1989, p. 257). More specifically, Aquinas held that the cause of disobedience or turning away is rooted in ignorance?"not knowing that a certain general principle is a rule of reason, and not knowing that a particular circumstance holds. Clearly however ignorance only causes sin if knowing what we did not know would have stopped us sinning" (p. 258). The will, for example, whether setting itself up as opposing God's will in acts of disobedi ence or as "opposed to the love of charity" (p. 274), is shaped by reason and reason, in turn, is influenced by emotions, desires, and imagination (p. 259), which can distort both reason and will. Ignorance may be the cause of sin, but it does not imply that will and reason are incapacitated.2 Disobedience, then, is turning away from the supreme good and "takes the form of a self-imposed bondage, a free will that binds itself (Williams, 1985, p. 199). Here we note that disobedience results in alienation and bondage.

In the 20th century, the idea that the foundation of sin was disobedience began to be challenged from different directions. Schoenberg (1984) noted, "As long as sin is envisaged entirely within the perspective of commands and prohibitions, justice is not done to human freedom" (p. 1580). Liberation theologians (e.g., Moltmann, 1981; Guti?rrez, 1988) knew well that a person could obey commands and avoid prohibitions, yet still commit injustice. Feminists (e.g., Ruether, 1983; Suchocki, 1995) and other theologians (e.g., Hall, 1991; Volf, 1996) have also called into question the emphasis on sin as disobedience, focusing on the sin of self-denial, violence, and exclusion.

Likewise, Farley (1990, 1996) shifted from sin as disobedience to sin as a tragic response to human finitude. Farley, arguing that classical views sup press the tragic element of sin, stated that human "life is structured by vul nerability and suffering is what effects discontent and anxiety" (1990, p. 124). Put differently, the human passion for subjectivity is contingent and relative, which gives rise to fear and anxiety. To contain or handle anxiety and our desire for securing our subjectivity, human beings tend to absolutize the rel ative and contingent?Neibuhr's (1941) totalitarian tendency. "Sin (moral corruption, oppression, interhuman violation)," Farley (1990) wrote, "arises from a skewed passion for the eternal, in other words, idolatry" (p. 126). In an effort to "transform inescapable vulnerability into something contingent and manageable," human beings "refuse the structure and situation of their fini tude" (p. 132).3 Securing our subjective and intersubjective significance through absolutizing the relative is linked to the distortion of reason (self deception) and passion.

From this perspective, disobedience vis-?-vis the divine law is reinterpreted as a tragic response to the anxiety and fear associated with one's encounter with human finitude and vulnerability. The problem with the idea of disobe dience, however, is that it tends to get confused with human laws, authority, and power, as feminists and others have rightly pointed out. Regardless, sin can be understood in two ways, both of which point to the effects of sin, namely, interpersonal alienation and bondage. First sin is understood as an anthropological category that points to the reality of creation and human existence. This is connected with the view that all have sinned and it is in this reality we find ourselves equal before God. The second aspect of sin is that it is a tragic response to the existential limits of human life.

Given this perspective, deadly sins (greed, pride, envy, lust, despair, glut tony, and anger) are understood as tragic, though idolatrous, responses to human finitude with the exception that they have been identified by Christian theologians as being particularly destructive to human beings, the commu nity, and, I would add, the environment. Greed, for example, moves a person to pursue and hoard objects of value and this leads to further estrangement from God, a growing sense of emptiness, emotional distance from intimate relationships, and deprivation to those who do not have access to the valued goods (LaMothe, 2003). Envy is especially deadly because it involves an intention to deprive the other person of a cherished object, even if it means murder (Schimmel, 1992; LaMothe, 2002). Deadly sins are deadly not simply because they impoverish one's soul and further estrange one from God through compulsive and idolatrous preoccupation with some object(s) or activity, but also because they are implicated in deliberate and unintentional acts of harm to others in and outside of the community. All sin may signify estrangement and harm, but deadly sins are especially destructive to the sinner and others.

The Old Testament Roots of Nonviolence Part II

Here are some more quotes from Philip Friesen's book.

[At the arrest of Jesus] The commander of heaven’s armies had forbid his disciples the use of the sword at the very moment when it was needed to protect him from capture. Victory would be achieved by dying rather than by killing.

In the Kingdom of Christ, the rules of engagement for spiritual warfare demand that we confront the enemy and be willing to die – to accept violence, but not to commit violence. When we seek to use civil authorities to enforce morality and justice for which the world is not ready, we deny the power of the gospel to bring needed change, and the strongholds of the human mind remain under enemy control.
In the New Testament, social change came first inside the church. In modern times, this is how apartheid was defeated in South Africa without civil war, to the amazement of the world around. It is true that apartheid was strong inside the institutional church, but strong voices of opposition within the church were also raised, and the impetus for social change come initially from the seeds of the gospel inside the church, nonetheless. In South Africa there were martyrs, but the martyrs won. That should not surprise us who claim to follow Jesus! It is the New Testament pattern.
Over the past 2,000 years we have seen that the systems of monarchy, patriarchy, and slavery have proved incapable of justice and unworthy of trust. If the Gospel is what has brought this about, which is the burden of this book, then it should be expected that one day the Gospel will also succeed in destabilizing the institutions of warfare, proving them nonviable, and unworthy of the faith we have placed in them.
The Jesus who made no compromise with evil is the Jesus we offer to the nations, and to offer a lesser Jesus is to sell Jesus short.

If we trust the institutional violence of a national defense system, a system that first Moses and then Jesus rejected, then we deny the incarnation its power on earth, making Jesus Lord of heaven but not of earth, and reveal whom we actually trust.

Christendom had reproduced a version of the Old Testament religion whereby the ritual sacrifice was repeated again and again in the mass, and the king enforced God’s laws, punishing idolaters with the sword. The reformation abolished the sacrifice of the mass, but failed to address the underlying violence of the system.

[Anabaptist Reformers] sought to make the cross of Christ their way of life on earth rather than merely an icon of future life in heaven.

Whenever the world divides into armed camps the church on both sides of conflict must come together, not split apart. If followers of Jesus allow themselves to be divided over the things that divide the world, then the unity of the one God will not be seen. To hide behind the deception of ‘just war’ obscures the reality of who we are in Christ.
Following Jesus inevitably leads to conflict with the rulers of this world, and may lead to charges of treason. No war was ever more just than the Jewish war against Rome; but instead of going to war, Jesus found a way to bring Jew and Roman together for those who practiced forgiveness. Even though conflict is painful, such is our calling in Christ, and Paul is the greatest apostolic example. He accepted the abuse and rejection of his own people in order to bring the good news to the Greeks and the Romans, the Jew’s enemies, both culturally and militarily. For Paul, his precious Jewish culture and religious values were given up as rubbish in order to gain Christ (Philippians 3:8). Nothing could have been more unpatriotic.

I suggest that an appropriate metaphor for the true church of our Lord would be that of a ping-pong game being played in the middle of a football field while the football game is going on. Again and again the ping-pong table is demolished and the players carried off the field with serious injuries, but again and again the ping-pong table reappears and the ping-pong game continues, to the consternation of the football teams and crowd. The followers of Jesus are playing a different game with different rules on the world’s field. Heaven’s citizens act as though the game has already changed and play by new rules. Their persistence and endurance will triumph. Jesus said, ‘The one who endures to the end will be saved’ (Matthew 24:13 and Mark 13:13).

The reason for being a pacifist is that the practice of warfare defiles the soul. It violates the new nature Christ has given us.

If my readers will agree that both slavery and war fall short of the righteousness God requires (i.e. they are sinful), then we should also agree that military systems and preparations for warfare are equally as abhorrent as slavery. We noted earlier that once Charles Finney had recognized slavery to be sin, he opposed it. Once we recognize warfare to be sin, we must oppose it also.
When should one be a pacifist and refuse military service? The answer is that we must oppose military service as soon as we recognize it to fall short of God’s glory. One must be a pacifist when the conviction of the Holy Spirit within the soul allows no other option; and as the Spirit of God continues to convict the world of sin, righteousness, and judgment (John 16:8), we should expect that a growing mass of believers in the world will be called to bear witness against this evil system in which the nations have placed their trust, and because of that witness, accept the possibility of martyrdom. This way the deception of the snake will be exposed and his power destroyed.
Revelation 20:3 describes the future. ‘And [they] cast him [the dragon, the old serpent] into the bottomless pit and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled.’ To believe in the necessity of armaments and war preparations is to believe the dragon’s deception. In war Revelation 20:7, as soon as the dragon is released from confinement, he gathers the nations once again for war. Here the writer of Revelation draws a strong connection between warfare and Satan’s deception of the nations. This is in stark contrast to the triumph of the Lamb who conducts warfare by the sword of his mouth and the word of his servants’ testimony.

The Just War Theory of Christians theologians offers nothing substantive that Islam (and also Judaism) does not offer. If the birth announcement in Luke is true – that Jesus’ arrival signaled peace on earth – then this issue belongs to the gospel, it is imperative upon the followers of Jesus to demonstrate the truth of it visibly in a way that Islam and Judaism do not. After all, Muhammad showed commendable graciousness to his defeated enemies in Mecca; and his ethics of warfare compare favorably with the ethics of Augustine or any other Christian theologian. The reality is that when our Christian faith is not centrally informed by the power of the cross in praxis, we deny Jesus just as surely as do the non-Christian religions.
All accommodating structures exist in the world as a demonstration of unbelief, and all rely upon violence. When we understand the historic process by which God has been weaning his people from faith in the violence of the accommodating structures of patriarchy, monarchy, and slavery, then we should be able also to see by faith where God is leading us in terms of our relationship to all institutions of violence, including the military. We must demonstrate within the social order the truth of Jesus as Messiah who brings peace on earth. This peace, incarnate in the fabric of fellowship of our faith around the world, bridging the boundaries of ethnic, racial, and nationalistic violence, is what will convince the world of who Jesus is. This is why we need to take pacifism seriously today.

Whenever Christians make either family, national identity, or even a religious institution their primary point of orientation, they deny their Lord and confuse the world about who they are. When this is understood, military service for the sake of preserving national boundaries and maintaining national identity becomes difficult to defend. Peace must be a missiological concern.

The battles between Christians and Muslims have really been battles over the control of earthly resources. When Christians put on the military uniform to fight for the power of an earthly government, the gospel message is sadly obfuscated in the eyes of the world. When the church becomes a cheerleader for some military effort, it denies its Lord. When Jesus called his disciples to put up the sword and follow him unarmed to death, he established Moses’ vision for a nation of priests rather than warriors. This is the legacy we must be prepared to follow to make our message believable.

I suggest that when Christians no longer kill each other on the basis of national identity, that then the invisible Kingdom of our Lord will become visible to those outside, because they will see another government in control of our loyalties.