Responding to terrorism:

The US may lose the peace

by Simon Longstaff

If ever there was a time for a victorious power to resist the temptation to gloat over its defeated enemy, to extract its ‘pound of flesh’, then now is that time. Having won the first stage of its war against terrorism, by blasting the Taleban and Al Qaeda out of Afghanistan, the United States seems to be indifferent to the possibility that it might lose the peace. Yet, it could easily do so on two fronts.

First, America could inadvertently spawn a new brood of disaffected critics who believe that she stands for little more than self-interest and the overarching principle that ‘might is right’. If there is to be a final peace, then it will have to be a just peace. If not, then we might have to reconcile ourselves to the possibility of perpetual war characterised by increasing ethical ambiguity.

For every terrorist killed or caged, an embryonic ‘freedom fighter’ will be created. For every claim of virtue on the side of the US and its allies, there will be a counterclaim that our virtue is counterfeit; that we are well armed hypocrites.

This gives rise to the second front on which the Allies risk losing the peace – by betraying their own founding myths – of freedom, justice, democracy and the rule of law. We say that we are on the side of justice and international order, yet there are disturbing signs that basic standards, like the Geneva Convention, can be set aside with a stroke of Mr Rumsfeld's pen.

Should the US and her allies lose the peace on this front, then the legitimacy of their actions will be undermined in the eyes of their own citizens, the alliance will crumble and the unthinkable – compromise with terrorists – will become practically inevitable with the loss of energy to prosecute a war that has come to seem merely necessary – rather than just.

Now, it may seem out of place to remind the United States and her allies of the need for a just peace. After all, there is no doubt that the US suffered a terrible wrong when attacked by terrorists in September last year. Furthermore, a serious effort to rid the world of terrorist activity – predominantly directed against innocent civilians – is worthy. So, the declared aim of the war against terrorism is one that I support. Yet, there is more to the matter than simply having a just aim in war. Of equal importance are the means employed in the pursuit of that aim.

In some quarters, it is argued that there should be no ethical constraints on the means applied to the task of securing victory. Those who hold such views argue that it is impossible to fight wars without ‘getting your hands dirty’. It's just a matter of degree. So, if a little bit (or a lot) of state sponsored terrorism (the deliberate bombing of civilians comes to mind) is thought to be necessary to win, then so be it. For such people, the only crime in war is to lose.

Others reject the notion that the ends justify the means. Understanding that war is always a human tragedy, they accept that it may be a necessary evil from time to time. Yet even then, they keep alive the hope that even something as terrible as war can be, to some extent, civilised.

The motivation of those who would fight within ethical boundaries are frequently mixed. Some have deep, ethical concerns that limit the scope of what might be done – even to the most despised of enemies. Others are driven by a prudent resolve to ensure that the means of securing victory do not undermine the possibility of a lasting peace. Who wants to fight forever?

Against this background, the leaders of the United States and her allies are caught in a double dilemma. First, the war against terrorism has no clearly defined end-point. As such, it is more like the Cold War against the former USSR than the Second World War against Nazi Germany and her allies.

As with the Cold War, the US must win hearts and minds to an extent equal or greater than she wins battles. Beyond this, the US has set up the confrontation against the terrorists as a basic contest between ‘good’ and ‘evil’. As such, the fight is a far more complex one than even existed during the Cold War. President Reagan might have labelled the USSR an 'evil empire' but everybody knew that this was a rhetorical flourish designed to cloak a fairly naked struggle for geopolitical dominance. However, at this time, President George W. Bush seems really to believe that the primary issue is not about geopolitics – but about morality.

Given this, it is deeply puzzling that the US has sought to distance itself from the provisions of the Geneva Convention, that it keeps its prisoners in cages, that it denies them the possibility of a truly, fair trial presided over by an independent tribunal and that it seems to do so while remaining apparently indifferent to the signals that all of this sends to the world. No amount of quibbling over definitions of what constitutes a bona fide 'prisoner of war' can diminish the impression that our side's moral authority is being undermined by our treatment of the vanquished.

The idea that victory should be tempered by justice and mercy is not just a product of enlightened self-interest (although it is certainly that in this case). At a deeper level, it is founded on recognition of the fact that, at the most basic level, even lethal combatants share a common humanity. To deny this – or to seem to deny this – is to betray what lies at the heart of all we claim to be fighting for. There are enough threats to the basic principle of human dignity. So why fashion one more with our own hands?

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Dr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.

A version of this article was submitted to The Australian in January 2002.

© St James Ethics Centre

© St James Ethics Centre