Editor's note: David M. Perry is an associate professor of history at Dominican University in Illinois. He writes regularly at the blog: How Did We Get Into This Mess? Follow him on Twitter. The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of the author.
During a lengthy
discussion, Francis remarked on the spread of cruelty and torture before
being asked about violence against religious minorities in Iraq, and
whether he approved of the U.S. bombing campaign aimed at stopping the
Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, or ISIS. With what seemed careful
deliberation, Pope Francis said: "In these cases where there is an
unjust aggression, I can only say this: It is licit to stop the unjust
aggressor. I underline the verb: stop. I do not say bomb, make war, I
say stop by some means. With what means can they be stopped? These have
to be evaluated. To stop the unjust aggressor is licit."
This response -- and the
reaction to it -- says much about the complexity of running an
organization that is at once modern and ancient, religious and
political, international and parochial. But what exactly did he mean?
Was he, as a few excitable writers suggested, calling for a new crusade?
Certainly, much of the media response quickly fixated on what seemed to
be approval for a military campaign and how a Pope -- the leader of the
Catholic Church -- was seemingly sanctioning war against an Islamic
caliphate.
Actually, he wasn't.
Crusading, as defined by
most historians, generally involved taking religious vows to head east
and assist in military expeditions against Islamic powers in exchange
for spiritual rewards (redemption from sin). Historians have identified
major campaigns as the First, Second, Third, etc. Crusades. In response to these conquests, the local Islamic powers leveraged the idea of jihad to rally disparate Muslim groups together.
Yet although the Crusades
featured not just plenty of violence but also peaceful cross-cultural
exchange, they aren't an example Francis wants to invoke. In fact, he
isn't saying that anyone should take vows and go off to fight. Instead,
Francis is making the point that taking action to stop evil is just.
This idea of justified
violence, even from Catholics, chiefly emerged from the writing of St.
Augustine (354-430). As Matthew Gabriele, associate professor of
medieval studies at Virginia Tech, writes:
"Augustine argued that war was never desirable but was sometimes
necessary. We must protect those who suffer from unjust aggression. If
that could be accomplished without war, so much the better, but force
could be used by legitimate authorities as a last resort. The end goal,
however, was always -- and simply -- lasting peace."
That's the context for understanding the ancient part of Francis' response.
The modern context
emerged in how he concluded his answer. "One nation alone cannot judge
how to stop an unjust aggressor," Francis said. "After the Second World
War there was the idea of the United Nations. It is there that this
should be discussed. Is there an unjust aggressor? It would seem there
is. How do we stop him? Only that, nothing more."
Such pursuit of multiple
perspectives to ward off bias is also Augustinian. In "On Christian
Doctrine," St. Augustine argued that reading the Bible required special
training because though the book contains all the truths of the
universe, humans (flawed creatures that we are) are far too likely to
assume that whatever we think is good is also what God thinks is good.
To counteract this, St. Augustine prescribed a strict intellectual diet
of the best liberal arts and science education the late Roman world
could provide.
Multiple perspectives
help us discern what is truly just from what might just be convenient.
In a way, that's what Francis is doing with his words, too. He's
concerned that any individual leader or nation is far too likely to
assume that someone with whom they disagree is unjust, and thus the
principles of stopping unjust action instead becomes a tool for
warmongering. Instead, he argues, we should try to find consensus before
acting, collectively, to put an end to atrocity.
"We must also have
memory," Francis said. "How many times under this excuse of stopping an
unjust aggressor the powers (that intervened) have taken control of
peoples, and have made a true war of conquest."
History teaches us all
about the dangers of mission creep. And it also makes clear that when
two sides engage in the rhetoric of religious war, things can
deteriorate rapidly. Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein, for example,
both routinely railed against the West as "crusaders," an accusation
that gained traction in the Islamic world after President George W. Bush
called for "this crusade, this war on terrorism" after 9/11.
Francis doesn't want to
make a similar mistake. Indeed, while he named himself after a medieval
saint who lived during the era of the Crusades, that St. Francis didn't
actually go to war. Instead he went on mission, seeking (at least as we
remember it today) dialogue and understanding. And that's certainly been
Pope Francis' path so far. But when there is great suffering in the
world, as is being inflicted on religious and ethnic minorities in areas
controlled by ISIS, then Francis says one must act, while also drawing
on both the ancient idea of justified war and the modern concept of
international cooperation.
The question, of course,
is whether in a digital age -- when misinformation and misunderstanding
spreads so fast -- Pope Francis can somehow find true harmony between
old and new. His ability to do so will determine the lessons his papacy
ultimately hands down for posterity.
http://edition.cnn.com/2014/08/20/opinion/perry-pope-wasnt-calling-for-crusade/
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