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Cry Havoc!: The Morality of War

photograph of destroyed building in Ukraine

When it comes to war, does anything go? Is there no morality nor immorality in war? Is it all just prudence or imprudence, success or failure? Realists have no use for ethics; pacifists oppose all violence; just war theorists draw lines in the sand; and reductive individualists say that what is right never changes. Who should we believe?

The scholars and diplomats who call themselves “realists,” believe that morality simply does not apply to war. Realists have been, in fact, the most influential actors in American foreign affairs since World War II. The position they take, however, goes back to Thucydides, Machiavelli, and Hobbes – who all thought that morality had nothing to do with politics. Nations are always in a “state of nature” with respect to their neighbors. Even when no shots are being fired, the “war of all against all” persists – no overarching authority exists to adjudicate disputes. While morality may govern the interactions between fellow citizens during peacetime, it has no purchase when it comes to the relations between autonomous states.

Worldwide, there are at least sixteen wars going on right now, and more than a million people have been killed. Many voices from many countries decry both how these wars started and how they are being conducted. Hopefully, most people will agree that some things – rape, torture, the murder of civilian noncombatants, the purposeful destruction of the basic infrastructure needed to sustain civilian lives – are morally wrong and should be universally condemned. If that is the case though, we must also reject the realist claim that morality has no place in war.

Perhaps war is nothing but immorality; perhaps all war is morally wrong. This is what “pacifists” believe. Even relatively restrained armed conflicts necessarily involve mass killing. That certainly looks wrong, doesn’t it? Instead of resorting to the taking up arms, the moral resolution of conflict demands and arbitration and compromise.

But what can a nation do if it is attacked? If we think that everyone has an inherent right to self-defense, shouldn’t we think countries do too? Must we stand by as innocents are victimized? Should we never intervene?

Just war theory has been trying to provide answers to these questions for at least sixteen-hundred years. It begins by distinguishing between jus in bello – justice in starting or joining a war – and jus ad bellum – justice in the conduct of a war. A just war must have a (i) just cause, be (ii) waged by a legitimate authority, as (iii) a last resort, and have a (iv) reasonable hope of success, while also being (v) a proportional response.

If it is to be a just war, the legitimate authority waging the war (i) must only undertake actions that are a military necessity, and (ii) always do so in a way that discriminates between people who are combatants and non-combatants. “The rule of proportionality,” according to West Point’s Lieber Institute on Warfare, “requires that the anticipated incidental loss of human life and damage to civilian objects should not be excessive in relation to the concrete and direct military advantage expected from the destruction of a military objective.”

These principles, and variations thereof, have been debated, extended, revised, etc. for over a thousand years. Unfortunately, they may be, as Hamlet put it, “More honored in the breach than the observance.” I will only give one example. For many older Americans, the war waged in the Pacific against the Tôjô regime after the devastating surprise attack on Pearl Harbor would be an exemplar of a just war. Yet, John Rawls, the most influential American moral philosopher of the twentieth century who fought in the Pacific himself, on the fiftieth-anniversary of the destruction Hiroshima with an atomic bomb wrote, “I believe that both the fire-bombing of Japanese cities beginning in the spring of 1945 and the later atomic bombing of Hiroshima on August 6 were very great wrongs” – and deployed just war theory to prove it.

Is there a way to look at the ethics of war without becoming a realist or a pacifist or stepping into the quick-sand of just war theory? Well, why think there is anything special, from a moral point of view, about war – other than it being especially morally abhorrent? If we have a moral code or moral rules that we follow in everyday life, why shouldn’t they apply in times of a war?

Here is the most important objection to just war theory: We would not need a separate moral theory about the ethics of war unless we meant to exempt some abhorrent conduct from ordinary moral standards.

The view that war is not exempt but bound by the same moral principles that govern the rest of human life is often called reductive individualism. It is startling, at least to me, that this is considered to be a new view. Perhaps it shows the power of nation states to shape our thinking that no one previously advocated the view that the morality of war is just ordinary, everyday morality.

I will not defend reductive individualism here. I will just make two quick points. Given the horrific nature of war, it may well be that reductive individualism is barely distinguishable from pacifism, and so, in that sense, is hardly new. On the other hand, even if we do not become reductive individualists, it may still be valuable to have this thought in the back of our mind as we follow current events. Is what I am seeing – whether or not it conforms to the laws of just war theory – moral? Not moral in any sophisticated theoretical way, just: is what I am seeing now before me right or is it wrong?

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Should the U.S. Continue Aid to Ukraine?

photograph of Ukrainian flag on military uniform

This article has a set of discussion questions tailored for classroom use. Click here to download them. To see a full list of articles with discussion questions and other resources, visit our “Educational Resources” page.

On Wednesday, September 7th, U.S. Secretary of State Anthony Blinken announced a new aid package to Ukraine worth over $1 billion. The announcement came during what may be a critical juncture for the war. Ukraine’s counter-offensive has been slower than initially hoped, leading U.S. officials to question Ukrainian military strategy. However, progress has been made in recent weeks – the Ukrainian military has broken through the first line of Russian defenses in the south and liberated settlements. Further, there is some reason to believe future gains may come at an accelerated rate, as intelligence officials believe the Russian military concentrated its defenses at the first line.

Regardless, continued U.S. aid to Ukraine is no longer an ironclad guarantee. Although a majority of U.S. citizens still approve of aid to Ukraine, poll numbers have shown changing attitudes in recent months. About half of Republican respondents polled feel that the U.S. is doing too much to help Ukraine, and that they prefer ending the war as soon as possible, even if Ukraine concedes lost territory to Russia. Further, despite a majority of Democrats and independents favoring aid to Ukraine even in a prolonged conflict, support for that position has declined somewhat. During the Republican presidential debate in August two candidates, Vivek Ramaswamy and Ron DeSantis, stated they would end U.S. aid to Ukraine (in DeSantis’s case, this was qualified with the statement that he would stop aid unless European nations “pull their weight”). Donald Trump has suggested that all aid to Ukraine should pause until U.S. agencies turn over alleged evidence that incriminates President Joseph Biden.

Given the amount of aid the U.S. has sent to Ukraine – about $76 billion at the time of this article’s writing (although Congress has approved up to $113 billion) – it is worth pausing to weigh the moral arguments for and against continuing to provide aid.

Before beginning that discussion, I want to note two things.

First, while aid to Ukraine is normally reported in dollar amounts, this is misleading. The U.S. has not sent $76 billion in cash to Kyiv. While some money has gone to financing, significant portions of the aid are supplies from the U.S. stockpiles, training Ukrainian soldiers, and collaborating on intelligence. The value of the aid is estimated at $76 billion but this does not mean the U.S. has spent $76 billion. Less than half of the aid has been cash, and some portion of this figure includes loans.

Second, there are arguments about aid this article will not consider. Namely, these concern the strategic or political value of aiding Ukraine. One might argue that a repulsion of the invasion would humiliate and weaken Putin’s regime, thereby advancing U.S. interests. Alternatively, one could argue that if the war effort fails while the U.S. sends aid, it could damage U.S.’s standing internationally; there would be doubts that cooperation with the U.S. is sufficient to ensure security. While these considerations matter and should enter our decision making, they are too complex to discuss in sufficient detail here.

What arguments might someone make against continuing aid to Ukraine? The most common arguments in public discourse stem from what the U.S. government ought to prioritize. For instance, during the Republican primary debate, Ramaswamy commented that the U.S. would be better off sending troops to the border with Mexico. Trump has similarly questioned how the U.S. can send aid to Ukraine but cannot prevent school shootings.

The idea here appears to be something like this. Governments have obligations which should shape their decisions. Specifically, governments have greater duties to resolve domestic issues and help their citizens before considering foreign affairs. Thus, the claim here seems to be that the U.S. should simply spend the resources it is currently allocating towards Ukraine in ways that more tangibly benefit citizens of the U.S.

There are a few reasons to be skeptical of this argument. First, without a specific policy alternative it is not clear what those who utter this argument are suggesting. For any particular program, it is always theoretically possible that a government could do something more efficient or more beneficial for its citizens. But this claim is merely theoretical without a particular proposal.

Second, this argument may pose what philosophers call a false dichotomy. This fallacy occurs when an argument limits the number of options available, so that one choice seems less desirable. False dichotomies leave listeners with an “either this or that” choice when the options are not mutually exclusive. Consider Ramaswamy’s proposal in particular. It is unclear why the U.S. could not both provide military aid to Ukraine and deploy soldiers to protect its borders.

Third, not all aid sent to Ukraine could clearly benefit U.S. citizens. For instance, it is not clear how anti-tank missiles, mine-clearing equipment, or artillery can be used to solve domestic issues in the U.S.

More compelling, however, are the arguments that may appeal to the long-term consequences of prolonged war in Ukraine. Some may point to more speculative consequences. Perhaps a long war in Ukraine will result in a more hostile relationship between Western nations and Russia. This is especially true given recent discussion of Ukraine joining NATO and Russian officials’ attitudes towards the alliance. Further, a prolonged conflict may create more tense relationships between the U.S. and China, and could provide a diplomatic advantage to the latter. So, some might argue that it could be in the interests of long-term peace to bring an end to the war in Ukraine; the more strained these relations become, the less probable cooperation between major powers becomes.

Less speculative is the simple fact that, the longer the war drags on, the more people will die. The more battles fought, the more casualties. Additionally, given that the Ukrainian military is now using munitions like cluster bombs and the Russian military has blanked portions of Ukraine with land mines, it is certain that the increased casualties will include civilians. Given that there is moral reason to avoid deaths, we may have moral reason to bring an end to the war in Ukraine to reduce the number of lives lost – the sooner it ends, by whatever means, the fewer people will die.

However, proponents of aid to Ukraine also appeal to the long-term consequences of current events. In particular, some argue that failing to support Ukraine’s war effort will enable future aggression, specifically, aggression by Moscow. The idea is something like this. The costlier the war is for Russia, the less likely its leaders will be to pursue war in the future. Further, the more support that nations like the U.S. are willing to provide to nations that are the victims of aggression, presumably, the less likely it would make future aggressive acts. Although a prolonged war in Ukraine will lead to a greater loss of life now, one might argue that in the end it will prevent even larger losses in the future by changing the cost-benefit analysis of future would-be aggressors.

Perhaps the most compelling argument for continuing aid to Ukraine comes from just war theory – the application of moral theory to warfare. Just war theorists often distinguish between jus ad bellum – the justification of going to war – and jus in bello – the morality of the conduct of combatants once war has broken out. Typically, just war theorists agree that wars of aggression are not justified unless they are to prevent a future, more severe act of aggression. Defensive warfare, in particular defensive warfare against an unjust aggressor, is justified.

To put the matter simply, Ukraine has been unjustly invaded by the Russian military. As a result, the efforts to defend their nation and retake captured territory are morally justified. So long as we have moral reason to aid those who are responding to unjust aggression, it seems we have moral reason to aid Ukraine. For many, this is enough to justify the expenditures required to continue military aid.

Of course, one might question how far this obligation gets us. It is not clear how much we are required to aid others who have a just pursuit. Resources are finite and we cannot contribute to every cause. This point will be more pressing as the monetary figure associated with aid to Ukraine rises, and our public discourse questions the other potential efforts towards which that aid could have been directly.

As noted earlier, however, there are some reasons to question arguments of this sort when they are light on specifics. It is one thing to reassess the situation as circumstances have changed and find that your moral obligations now seem to pull you in a different direction. It is another entirely to abandon a democratic nation to conquest simply over sophistry. The severe consequences of our choices on this matter should prompt us to think carefully before committing ourselves to a particular plan of action.

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Afghanistan: The Graveyard of Liberal Interventionism?

image of topographic map of Afganistan and surrounding countries

After two decades, the war in Afghanistan (the so-called “graveyard of empires”) has been lost. The sudden defeat of the former Afghan government has sparked an outpouring of recrimination. It is time to take a step back and examine the ethical and political doctrine that was used to justify our nation-building mission in Afghanistan for so many years: liberal interventionism.

Liberal interventionists believe that countries such as the U.S. have an ethical and political duty to spread freedom across the globe — to nation-build, promote and defend democracy, political and civil rights, and international institutions. They argue that diplomatic, economic, and even military intervention can be justified in the name of liberty and humanitarianism.

The doctrine has deep philosophical roots. In his essay “A Few Words on Non- Intervention,” the liberal philosopher John Stuart Mill argued in favor of an ethical duty to intervene against “barbarous” states in order to bring liberty to the people of those states.

More recently, the philosopher Martha Nussbaum has defended some interventionism on humanitarian grounds. Her view is that intervention in a foreign country’s affairs can be justified or even ethically required if it is necessary for providing individuals with “basic capabilities,” such as the capability to live, be in good health, affiliate with others, and to maintain one’s bodily integrity.

Prior to the 2001 NATO invasion of Afghanistan, a liberal interventionist case for war was relatively clear. Under Taliban rule, Afghan citizens faced widespread human rights abuses. For example, women were forbidden from independent travel, from working, and from education over the age of eight. Women were also subject to cruel and arbitrary punishment. In 1996, a woman had the tip of her thumb cut off for the “crime” of wearing nail varnish. Given the appalling human rights abuses of the Taliban, Nussbaum’s conditions for intervention were likely met in Afghanistan.

Of course, it does no good to invade countries only to have them return to tyranny the next week. So intervention can only be justified, on the liberal interventionist view, if it produces lasting progress on human rights, democracy, and liberty. This suggests we have a duty to see our interventions through — to stay in Afghanistan until our humanitarian goals are secured indefinitely.

If there is such an ethical duty, we have violated it in withdrawing our military forces. The liberal-democratic Afghan government was too weak to resist the Taliban. Now Afghan democracy, education, healthcare and civil rights are all likely to be severely weakened or destroyed entirely. Before the recent withdrawal of international troops, Yamina Mishra, Amnesty International’s Asia-Pacific Director, claimed the move “threatens to undermine more than twenty years of progress for women and girls.” The shocking victory of the Taliban appears to be proving her right.

The Taliban have claimed they will abstain from human rights abuses of the past, that they will offer amnesty to those who worked with the former government, and that they will respect freedom of speech, expression, and women’s rights in a manner compatible with Sharia law. This, it has been claimed, is the “Taliban 2.0.” If these promises are kept, then withdrawal may be compatible with liberal interventionist principles. But, 25 years ago, as the Taliban seized Kabul, similar promises were made and quickly broken. To trust the Taliban to maintain the former Afghan government’s respect for human rights is likely wishful thinking. The doctrine of liberal interventionism would appear, then, to condemn Biden’s recent withdrawal.

Most Americans, however, think that withdrawal was the right choice. The U.S. fought in Afghanistan more than five times longer than in World War Two. It is a war that continued to take lives and cost billions each year, while our presence did not seem to be contributing to any progress. President Biden, during the withdrawal announcement, claimed that, “‘Just one more year’ of fighting in Afghanistan is not a solution, but a recipe for fighting there indefinitely.” Biden also appealed to the value of national self-determination, saying that, “It’s up to Afghans to make the decision about the future of their country.”

Despite facing widespread criticism in the media, Biden’s perspective is widely shared; seventy-three percent of voters approved of withdrawal while only twenty-three percent disapproved. Unusually, in this period of hyper-partisanship, a majority of both Republicans and Democrats approved of the withdrawal.

The popularity of the withdrawal might make it seem that America has lost whatever confidence it had in liberal interventionism. This conclusion may, however, be premature. Arguably, Biden’s withdrawal was ethically permissible even according to liberal interventionism.

Mill, the original proponent of liberal interventionism, argued that intervention is only justifiable in nations in which it will work. He writes:

“the answer I should give to the question of the legitimacy of intervention is, as a general rule, No. The reason is, that there can seldom be anything approaching to assurance that intervention, even if successful, would be for the good of the people themselves. The only test possessing any real value, of a people’s having become fit for [liberal intervention] is that they, or a sufficient portion of them to prevail in the contest, are willing to brave labour and danger for their liberation. […] the evil is, that if they have not sufficient love of liberty to be able to wrest it from merely domestic oppressors, the liberty which is bestowed on them by other hands than their own, will have nothing real, nothing permanent. No people ever was and remained free, but because it was determined to be so.”

Biden’s controversial recent speech hit similar notes:

“American troops cannot and should not be fighting in a war and dying in a war that Afghan forces are not willing to fight for themselves. We spent over a trillion dollars. We trained and equipped an Afghan military force of some 300,000 strong, incredibly well-equipped, a force larger in size than the militaries of many of our NATO allies. We gave them every tool they could need. We paid their salaries, provided for the maintenance of their air force. […] We gave them every chance to determine their own future. What we could not provide them was the will to fight for that future.”

Biden’s speech has been widely (and plausibly) interpreted as an ugly attempt to pin the blame for defeat on the Afghan people. But a more generous way to understand Biden is that he is making Mill’s point. If, after twenty years, we have failed to cultivate an Afghan government capable of resisting the Taliban, then there is no reason to think we would ever succeed. On Mill’s account, the blame falls not on the Afghan people, but on America and its allies for intervening while failing to foresee that nation-building would fail. On this reading, the withdrawal was simply a recognition of the painful fact that our nation-building project was never going to succeed, and was therefore never legitimate.

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What the Moral Tragedy in Afghanistan Teaches

photograph of soldiers running in the desert

The current situation in Afghanistan brings to the forefront several moral issues which, taken together, create a complex situation with a great deal of uncertainty about how to proceed. With the clock ticking down until several nations, particularly the United States, pull out entirely from the country, the lives of millions hang in the balance, particularly those who are fleeing the Taliban for fear of reprisals and especially women. But how exactly should we understand this issue morally speaking? What moral responsibilities do nations have who actively occupied and developed the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan? Is this a moral tragedy? And if so, what should be done about it?

First, it is worth recounting what led us here. Since 2001, the United States and other NATO  allies have occupied Afghanistan after toppling the Taliban regime. These were actions taken in response to the Taliban harboring terrorist groups involved in 9/11. But building and supporting a new republic has been costly. Thousands of military personnel have lost their lives since then and the cost of occupation, development of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, and support in building the Afghan National Security Forces has been in the trillions.

In the meantime, the past twenty years has allowed a burgeoning democracy to exist in Afghanistan. In contrast to the Taliban rule of the 1990s, women have been given the freedom to be educated and to play a meaningful role in society including in journalism and the judiciary. Now many of these women, in addition to countless others who aided Western powers (such as interpreters) or who run afoul of traditional Taliban beliefs, are in mortal danger. Many seek to escape the country from the airport before the Taliban is able to take complete control. An entire generation of Afghanis may lose the only democracy they’ve ever known. The situation has reached a fever pitch with many now calling for a change of plans and with polls showing Americans unhappy with President Biden’s handling of the situation. In a situation as complicated as this, how do we morally make sense of it?

Firstly, there are several moral reasons which prompted the withdrawal in the first place. The United States has committed significant resources in the area both in troops and in money in an effort to prop-up the Afghan government for what many consider to be a ‘forever war’ that never had a chance of success.

In other words, the moral concern from people like President Biden is that while the U.S. had invaded Afghanistan to prevent terrorist attacks, the effort was not to “go to Afghanistan to nation-build.” While some believed that staying in Afghanistan would eventually lead to improvement, the sentiment from many military officials is that short of staying in perpetuity, the situation was never going to stabilize. Experts have predicted for some time that the war was ultimately unwinnable, that the Afghan government was corrupt, and that Afghan Security Forces would not succeed. Indeed, the pace at which the Afghan government fell to the Taliban after so much time, effort, and money had been spent could indicate how pointless staying ultimately would be.

All of these points suggest that, morally speaking, staying would not be worth the cost. Those, like Nikalas Gvosdev, suggest the adoption of a democracy triage mindset. As he notes, “U.S. support is not unlimited. If more is devoted to Afghanistan, or even sustained at current levels, it means less is available elsewhere for other equally deserving projects.” In other words, we cannot ignore the moral significance this scarcity of resources plays in determining the best course of action.

“With a population of about 36 million people, the question has to be asked as to whether that is the best investment of limited U.S. aid dollars versus other parts of the world where the same amount of money might lead to better outcomes for hundreds of millions more.”

On the other hand, philosopher Michael Blake emphasizes the ‘Pottery Barn rule’ (if you break it, you bought it): if you make yourself ruler over others, you are morally responsible for them. As Blake notes, “The decision to withdraw is likely to lead to enormous suffering in the years to come.” This means that the U.S. and other nations are to some degree morally responsible for the abuses that the inhabitants of Afghanistan will face. This would mean that it is incumbent on these nations to do something. To some, this means that “there is a moral case to remain and support Afghanistan against the Taliban threat” given the moral responsibility the West has to those who have embraced democracy, and because the costs of securing Afghanistan had been on the decline.

However, there is no magic undo button for the past few weeks and removing the Taliban would only be more costly now. There remain, however, lingering moral questions about what is owed to those who helped the West, those are being targeted by the Taliban, or those who simply want to leave. Gvosdev argues that in return for non-interference the U.S. should insist on the right to freely exit the country for those Afghanis who cannot live under the Taliban order. Indeed, much of the moral concern now is not whether to leave or stay, but rather what can be done to help given the terrible situation. Blake, and many other philosophers, would call this a moral tragedy – no matter what is done someone will be wronged – and so the best option is still one that is unmoral.

But this view is not one that should inspire moral apathy either. A forced choice between bad outcomes is no excuse for doing nothing anymore than claiming that since Afghanistan is a “graveyard of empires” (historically this isn’t really true) the situation was never going to resolve itself in a positive way. Indeed, this moral tragedy reminds us that ethics is not about choosing between good or bad options, but about weighing different, (and sometimes incommensurable) competing goods. Nevertheless, learning such lessons comes hard, as we are discovering right now in Afghanistan. But they also underscore the importance, as Blake explains, “that the U.S. tries to avoid entering into such morally tragic situations in the future,” and that people be more aware ahead of time of what their moral responsibilities demand. Perhaps that lesson learned could have avoided much of the “chaotic rush” we are now seeing, particularly when it comes to evacuations.

This only introduces yet another moral area of concern and that is the public. As Tom Nichols of The Atlantic argues, “this is on you” the voter. Even now as Biden’s approval ratings fall owing to the fallout of the withdrawal, it must be noted that the war’s beginning and the war’s end were popular. Minimizing moral tragedy means recognizing the role that one plays in creating them, and as Nichols notes, “Americans had no real interest in adult conversation about the reality of anti-terrorist operations in so harsh of an environment,” nor did they consider whether terrorism in Afghanistan had been effectively neutralized.

So perhaps this represents a failure of democracy as well. Just as was learned in Afghanistan, there is more to democracy than voting, so too is going to war a complicated business. For if the public is to be the warrant for future action, it can’t be the case that a war is allowed to fade into the background. A people cannot be expected to vote for war without knowing in advance what the situation is like, and the same goes for withdrawal. As most experts this week have made clear, the situation unfolding is not surprising (only surprising in terms of the speed at which events have unfolded).

While there are many lessons to be learned from Afghanistan, perhaps the public needs to recognize that when they beat the drum for war or call for the end of one, that they too bear moral responsibility for the outcomes. While Americans might blame the Biden administration for their handling of evacuations, they cannot blame the overall situation on their elected leaders for getting elected by calling for withdrawal. So, in addition to questions about the moral importance of either staying or leaving Afghanistan, and what means and resources should be used to aid the people of Afghanistan now, perhaps the most difficult moral question that haunts us is how to prevent moral tragedies like this from occurring again?

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Time for Social Conscription?

photograph of Uncle Same "We Want You!" poster

The metaphor of war has been widely employed during the pandemic. Donald Trump characterized the virus as the “invisible enemy,” Boris Johnson declared himself the head of a wartime government, Narendra Modi envisioned the ‘Tika Utsav’ (a vaccination festival) as the start of the second Indian war on COVID-19, and even the WHO recommended the suspension of vaccine patents to secure the world’s “war footing.” Using the language of conflict to convey the pandemic’s threat and rally our march toward its defeat has been a regular feature of discourse worldwide.

The deployment of this kind of combat analogy isn’t novel. Similar language was used by Brazil officials during the 2018 Zika outbreak, by Nixon in the 1970s ‘war on drugs,’ and by contemporary conservative commentators to decry the ‘war on Christmas.’ And, while its appropriateness is sometimes questionable, the power which such an illustrative framing possesses is often considerable.

Conceptualizing challenges as battles elicits an ‘us v. them’ mentality. In the COVID-19 context, it provides a common enemy (the virus), a retaliatory strategy (flattening the curve), the soldiers (clinical staff), the home-front (people isolating), and the saboteurs (those breaking lockdown rules). The idea of uniting to fight an adversary capable of causing such catastrophic harm was used to justify the rapid closing of schools, bars, sporting events, the restrictions on domestic and international travel, and the general reduction in the freedoms many enjoyed pre-pandemic. Echoing WWII’s campaigns like ‘Dig for Victory,’ we’re repeatedly told that we must do our part to prevent disaster, preserve vital services and resources, and save lives.

The demands on state resources worldwide have reinforced a picture not dissimilar from that of a mass global conflict. Hospitals overrun with patients, a lack of available qualified staff, panic-hoarding and rationing of goods, as well as fear of potentially compromised foreign individuals, all elicit similar feelings of dread in the face of an uncertain future. Indeed, living under the shadow of war and the shadow of a pandemic has some palpable thematic similarities.

Yet, one aspect of the wartime era has been notably absent in the discussion about how governments might rise to meet the significant demands placed on public services during a pandemic: conscription; that is, people’s mandatory enlistment into national service.

This practice is typically reserved for compelling people into military service because war is broadly seen as the only event that could justify such a coercive social program. However, there are plenty that believe obligatory military service represents an important public good even in peacetime. In the U.K., for example, the prospect of military conscription’s reinstatement has been floated by politicians, commentators, as well as royals. Additionally, the U.K.’s public appears to possess an appetite for its restoration, with 48% of respondents to a 2018 YouGov poll and 43%-47% of respondents to a similar 2016 poll favoring compulsory military service for young people.

But, if it is appropriate to think of the pandemic as a war, shouldn’t a conscription program for non-military, social roles — such as the U.K.’s National Health Service or Italy’s Servizio Sanitario Nazionale — be considered?

Non-military conscription isn’t new. Germany, Austria, Finland, Switzerland, amongst others, have utilized a conscription service to ensure citizens contribute to social services in the past. However, this form of national service is generally employed as an alternative to military conscription, not a separate, preferable option. Social conscription is typically framed as the secondary option, something that is only considered in countries that employ military conscription as their default service option. But, a program of social conscription may not simply be a backup alternative for those who don’t wish to be involved in the armed forces. Rather, there is a compelling argument that the former avoids several of the latter’s more troubling ethical implications.

Chief amongst these criticisms concerns the methods employed by the armed forces to achieve their goals. The military secures its objectives via the threat of violence. Coercing people via social and judicial means to serve in an industry that invariably leads to the demise of others is hard to justify. Imposing an obligation on citizens to participate in activities that might conflict with their deeply held personal, moral, or religious convictions — like actively supporting the military-industrial complex or contributing to the taking of others’ lives — will strike many as going beyond what any legitimate government can demand of its people. This is why many jurisdictions with military conscription provide an opt-out pathway where individuals can pursue alternative service avenues to serve the public good and do their bit.

Social conscription, on the other hand, does not raise the same problem. Through a national service program that supports well-being-enhancing institutions — such as social care or health services — individuals can assist their communities and countries in a manner comparable to military conscription without being (in)directly involved with the killing of another human being. In fact, they’d be instrumental in the saving of lives.

Social conscription doesn’t simply avoid some of the ethical quandaries associated with military conscription. On the contrary, it possesses benefits that make it not merely relationally preferable to military conscription but inherently preferable, especially during a pandemic. With healthcare services struggling to meet demand due to a lack of available staff, an enormous task force needed to administrate and administer vaccination initiatives, and social care industries besieged by the increased need of their services, a consistent and reliable source of labor in the form of social conscripts may be the most effective way to secure the best possible outcome in the war against COVID-19. And, if increasing well-being, health, and positive results are ethically desirable outcomes, then social conscription may be morally required.

Whether such a program would be practical is something that needs investigation. However, given the appetite for conscription alongside the evident need to bolster those institutions that increase well-being and protect people’s health globally — a need highlighted by the pandemic — social conscription may not be military conscription’s inferior alternative. Rather, it may be its indispensable and desirable superior.

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Our Moral Obligations to the Afghans

photograph of bootprints in the sand

On April 14, President Biden announced the withdrawal of all U.S. combat troops from Afghanistan by September 11, 2021. NATO forces, which today have a far larger presence in Afghanistan, will also depart, European officials reported. “We went to war with clear goals,” Biden said in a short speech. “We achieved those objectives.”

Noticeably absent from Biden’s speech was any mention of the many Afghans who, because of their collaboration with U.S. or NATO forces during the last twenty years, now face persecution under a Taliban government that, given the weakness and corruption of the current American-backed Afghan government, is likely to one day come to power. Nor did Biden mention the presumed fate of the many Afghans who took advantage of opportunities afforded by the U.S. presence. For example, today 40 percent of Afghanistan’s students are women. This is highly unlikely to continue under Taliban rule.

The moral case for opening our doors to Afghans is straightforward. Millions of Afghans have reasonably relied on American largesse and protection, and many have actively aided the U.S. in achieving its war aims. Those facts provide the basis for an obligation to protect those people from the harms they will surely suffer when the U.S. and its allies pull out of the country. In other words, we owe them protection from the Taliban because of what they’ve done for us, and because we allowed them to enjoy benefits under the pretense that we would ensure those benefits would remain available. And since no remedy other than resettlement can guarantee protection from these harms, we must provide the means for Afghans to safely make their way to this country or some allied nation, and we must help them readjust to their new lives in their new homelands.

Unfortunately, during the Trump administration the U.S. abnegated its role as a global leader for refugee resettlement. In 2017, for example, the U.S. for the first time resettled fewer refugees than the rest of the world combined. The refugee ceiling was progressively lowered after that; the FY 2021 refugee ceiling is the lowest in the history of the U.S. refugee resettlement program. Biden has said he will raise the ceiling, but didn’t sign the document required to put his announced policy change into effect. Biden can easily reverse Trump’s cruel policy, and should do so with all due haste. And, as I have argued, he should go further than this in the specific case of the Afghans, given our special obligations to them.

For those with a historical bent, our current predicament feels like déjà vu all over again. Some fifty years ago, the United States began its withdrawal from another unpopular “forever war” in South Vietnam. The death of the Republic of Vietnam finally arrived in 1975. Just as now, millions of Vietnamese then found themselves under a totalitarian regime that was committed to persecuting and “re-educating” large segments of the population to achieve ideological ends. There followed one of the greatest humanitarian crises in modern history, as millions of Vietnamese refugees — many of them former collaborators with the U.S. during the war — desperately took to the seas. From 1975, the U.S. opened its doors and provided resettlement support to over a million of these refugees, despite waning public support for refugees and a declining U.S. economy during the 1980s and early 90s.

Our country is far wealthier now than in 1975 — far more able to accommodate so many newcomers — despite the coronavirus-related economic downturn.  If we could at least come close to doing the right thing then, we can do so now. All it takes is the will and adequate political leadership.

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The Ban on Trans Service Members and Injustice of Healthcare Cost Disparities

close-up photograph of the boots of four servicepeople

President Trump has banned trans members of the military from openly serving and from joining up. The reasoning behind the ban is that inclusion would result in higher medical costs and lower troop cohesion. On January 22nd, SCOTUS lifted an injunction on enacting the ban, and lower courts will proceed with evaluating the ban while the military will be more free to follow it.

As a Vox report articulates, there are multiple dimensions along which this ban is offensive: “Trump’s ban could lead to some very ugly consequences: trans service members staying in the closet, even when it’s dangerous for their service and their personal health and safety; trans troops being discharged or abused; and trans Americans more broadly receiving yet another signal that society still doesn’t accept or tolerate them.”

Besides issues of discriminatory injustice, this ban has significant practical effects: over 134,000 American veterans are transgender, and over 15,000 trans people are serving in military today. The US has been at war for decades, so it is unclear why barring willing people from serving would be a wise strategy, especially for this demographic, as it’s been reported that “twenty percent of transgender people have served in the military, which is double the percentage of the U.S. general population that has served.”

The most suggestive support for the ban comes from research from the RAND Corporation which indicates that including openly serving trans folk in the military would make up “a 0.04- to 0.13-percent increase in active-component health care expenditures.” However, research from countries that allow openly serving in the military according to your gender identity, including the UK, Israel, and Canada, suggests that there is no cost to military preparedness or problems with the military’s budget.

The supposed extra cost of healthcare has been used as a tool of discriminatory practices both inside and outside of the military. Before Obamacare, it was allowable practice for women’s health insurance to be more costly than men’s, for instance. Even harsh critics of the law admit, “The Affordable Care Act enacted pricing rules that largely prohibited charging women higher health-insurance premiums than men, and the Republican plan would relax some of those restrictions, which probably would result in women’s paying higher premiums.”

Debates over whether being a woman should play the role of a “preexisting condition” bring to light the way healthcare should be conceived of and distributed. It is true that women pay more over their lifetime for healthcare than men, on average, despite, again on average, taking better care of themselves.

Health is a human good that is unevenly distributed by a natural lottery – both at birth with conditions that make health needs vary and later in life in the form of health-altering events such as accidents and disease. That some individuals may need more assistance in order to maintain health does not undermine its status as a fundamental human good.

There isn’t evidence that being trans interferes in any way with one’s ability to serve in the military – the inclusive policies of other nations serve as evidence to the contrary. The proposed ban on openly trans military service member is thus at best a matter of medical discrimination, but that justification is thin, given the diverse medical needs of diverse populations. In reality the ban is a barely veiled instance of putting transphobia into policy.

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If North Korea Launches a Nuclear Attack, How Should the U.S. Respond?

A photo of the North Korean-South Korean border

North Korea’s regime has taken a bolder step in its confrontation with the United States: it has threatened to launch an attack against Guam, a US territory in the Pacific. Then, it walked it back. But, we have seen this kind of behavior in Kim Jong Un many times, so we may foresee that, sooner or later, he will again threaten to attack Hawaii, Guam, South Korea, or any other target within North Korea’s range. If such an attack takes place, and it is a nuclear attack, how should the U.S. ethically respond?

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Trial by Trump: The Case of Bowe Bergdahl

In June of 2009, 23-year-old Army Sergeant Bowe Bergdahl deserted his post at Mest Manko in Afghanistan.  Shortly thereafter, he was captured by the Taliban.  He was held as a prisoner of war for five years in deplorable conditions.  In 2014, President Barack Obama’s administration arrived at an agreement with the Taliban. In exchange for Bergdahl’s release, the United States would release five Taliban members from Guantanamo Bay.  The deal was controversial.  Many people felt that the U.S should not have negotiated with terrorists for release of a soldier that deserted his post.

Bergdahl’s case was a hot topic on the campaign trail during the 2016 presidential election.  Now-President Donald Trump commented on it frequently, referring to Bergdahl as a traitor and suggesting that if he could undo the deal, sending Bergdahl back into captivity and returning the detainees to Guantanamo, he would do so.  

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Our Views of Women in the Military Demand Complexity

Donald Trump’s reemerged tweet about sexual assault in the military has brought the topic of women’s roles, rights, and risks in the armed forces to the forefront of discussion. In his recent interview with Matt Lauer, Trump defended his tweet from May 2013, which reads: “26,000 unreported sexual assaults in the military-only 238 convictions. What did these geniuses expect when they put men & women together.” His logic suggests that the creation of an environment in which females and males are mingled—whether it be a place of work, an educational institution, or just plainly the world—naturally encourages sexual assault. This tweet also implies that women are the ones who have been integrated into the military; they are the outsiders; they are the reason that these sexual assaults occur. To understand today’s sentiments toward this issue, we have to look at the history of women in the U.S. military that is so often left out of textbooks.

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High School Essay Contest Winners 2016

The Prindle Institute is excited to announce the winners of the second annual High School Ethics Essay Contest! Over 200 high school students responded to the prompt “Does the United States have a moral responsibility to intervene in countries where human rights violations are occurring?” The five winners received a cash prize of $300. Excerpts from the five winning essays are featured below.

 

Emily Crafton, Greenfield-Central High School- Humanitarian Intervention

“Not only is it a moral choice, but as Jennifer Welsh, from the R2P program explains, intervention can also promote resilience. Intervening in other countries strengthens those countries politically, ultimately preventing future atrocities. While it may seem unjust to interfere with the sovereignty of other countries, the definition of sovereignty is evolving.” Click here to read more of this essay. 

 

Lourdes Latasa, Carondelet High School– The United States’ Responsibility to Protect

“There is never an end to the controversy over whether the United States has a moral responsibility to intervene in countries where human rights violations occur. Sovereignty and human rights are crucial ideas that contradict one another in terms of whether the United States has the responsibility to use humanitarian intervention. Sovereignty in a state allows the state to be independent and to handle its affairs. It does not allow other countries to interfere in the state’s affairs.” Click here to read more of this essay.

 

Alec Sandberg, West Bloomfield High School– A Move Toward Intervention

“Having world peace would be ideal. However, the United States understands that this state is unrealistic unless something is done to help curb human rights violations. To promote its political agenda and social views throughout the world, the United States needs to unify countries that are willing to cooperate with each other. Countries that do not agree with the United States on how citizens should be treated would have a difficult time maintaining any type of relationship with the United States.” Click here to read more of this essay.

 

Regan Vander Tuin, Catholic Central High School– A Moral Dilemma: Armed Intervention

“Those who oppose intervention fear that it may lead to greater harm, but when specific guidelines are enforced to prevent under- or over-use of intervention, humanitarian aid is beneficial. The United States should ultimately intervene when citizens of other countries are unable to protect themselves.” Click here to read more of this essay. 

 

Karmyn Von Ehr, Catholic Central High School– A Collective Responsibility

“The United States is currently a large global power that assumes a large portion of the responsibility to protect. Although many would argue that the United States should have the moral responsibility to intervene in situations of human rights violations, the United States government does not currently act upon or maintain a moral responsibility. In ways that the government does not have a moral responsibility, the citizens do. There are numerous organizations and orders that can freely act based on moral responsibility, whereas the government has restrictions.” Click here to read more of this essay. 

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This and That: Addressing Sex Crimes in Afghanistan

“This and That” is a series of articles in which two Prindle interns weigh on different ethical aspects to an issue. This week, interns Conner Gordon and Connor McAndrew discuss sex crimes in Afghanistan.

Two weeks ago, Representative Duncan Hunter (R, CA) introduced a bill called the Martland Act that would give commanders in the armed forces wider powers to confront criminal sexual abuse under their jurisdiction.  The bill comes after a well-publicized case in the fall of 2015 in which Sgt. First Class Charles Martland, a Green Beret, was put under review after assisting in beating up a local Afghan milita commander who kept a young boy chained to his bed as a sex slave.  

According to the New York Times, Sergeant Martland spent two tours in Afghanistan and was decorated with a Bronze Star for valor before being put under scrutiny for his participation in the assault.  Sgt. Martland wrote to the Army, stating that he and a fellow soldier, Captain Dan Quinn, ““felt that morally we could no longer stand by” and allow the Afghan Local Police to “commit atrocities”.  

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Can You Wear Medals You Didn’t Earn?

A California court ruled in favor of a ex-Marine who was wearing military medals that he did not earn. The ex-marine, Elven Joe Swisher, has the right to wear the medals, the court says, even if they were not earned during his service. This on the basis that denying him the right to wear the medals is in violation of his free speech guaranteed in the constitution.

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Cannons in a Quiet Park

On any other day, Belgrade’s Kalemegdan Park would have been relatively peaceful. Usually it would have been filled with people taking walks, groups of tourists and teenagers meeting their friends. Yet today a large crowd of people had gathered at the edge of the park, at an overlook above the Sava river. Just finishing a political tour of the city, my group and I joined them. In the middle of the crowd stood a cluster of soldiers- some in ornamental dress, others in camouflage – and a brass band to their left. To their right stood a group of politicians in dark suits. and in the middle of it all, half a dozen cannon barrels silhouetted against the sunset.

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