foreword

There was a time when, as a defender of Just War theory, I got into heated arguments with pacifists. I still argue about the differences between us, but not with the same degree of passion as in the past. I owe the decreased intensity in my feelings on the subject to what I learned from the late Mennonite ethicist John Howard Yoder, who convinced me that the real divide concerning the use of violence was not between pacifists and Just War defenders. Both of those viewpoints, Yoder pointed out, insist that it is extremely important to subject questions about the legitimacy of violence to strict moral examination. Their disagreement is about whether that kind of examination ever permits the use of military violence. Together, though, these two perspectives stand in radical opposition to those for whom “winning at any cost” is the supreme concern, as well as to the views of the defenders of a pragmatic “national interest” approach.

Yoder obviously would have been pleased if those of us in the Just War camp were to convert to pacifism. But short of achieving that goal, he pushed us to be very strict and consistent in how we employed the criteria for giving moral approval to specific military ventures. In response to those urgings, I came to see that if we are genuinely rigorous in our adherence to Just War doctrine, we would approve of far fewer military campaigns than our past record has shown.

Take Just War teaching’s “proportionality” criterion: the military means that we employ should be proportionate to the overall goals we are attempting to achieve. If your teenager locks himself in his bedroom, one way to get him to open the door is to set the house on fire. But that would obviously be a case where the proposed means are disproportionate to the intended result.

What should be clear to all of us these days is that participating in warfare causes serious psychic damage to those who engage in combat. Broken marriages, post-traumatic stress, nightmares, guilt and shame, suicides—this has become the stuff of daily news reports about the experiences of American veterans returning from combat duty. Military campaigns cause much devastation to large populations around the world. But they also have a serious impact on the soul of a nation that sponsors those campaigns—often, if not always, significantly out of “proportion” to intended goals.

In any event, pacifists and Just War defenders have a lot of work to do together. We need to find sensible and feasible alternatives to the use of military violence. We need to cultivate together what the Greeks called phronesis, practical wisdom. Or, to put it in New Testament terms, we need to seek together the gift of discernment.

Ron Sider has always been a gifted Christian discerner. While he has never been reluctant to argue for his basic pacifist perspective, that has never kept him from working hard to bring us together for common action on the convictions that we share as persons who profess a deep desire to be faithful followers of Jesus Christ.

This marvelous book is an excellent exercise in Christian phronesis. It provides us with many exemplary stories of moral courage. And when those accounts are about Ron’s own participation, he offers candid testimonies about the hopes and fears that have accompanied his activism. But there are some highly instructive historical examples as well, with some clear evidence that nonviolent strategies have had surprisingly positive results in difficult situations.

Ron Sider has much to teach us about moral courage. But he also makes it clear that sometimes we need to wed our moral sensitivities to political and economic savvy. This wise, balanced, and inspiring book is a richly instructive guide for all who have pledged their allegiance to the Savior who is also the Prince of Peace.

Richard J. Mouw,
professor of Faith and Public Life and former
president of Fuller Theological Seminary

July 2014