As we all know, the United States is now involved in a war. The bombs are dropping in Afghanistan and elsewhere, the media is saturated with its coverage, and our political leaders are working overtime deciding how to present this "war" to the wider world. But what is the nature of this war? Is it, ethically speaking, defensible?
To begin to understand these questions, I turn to America's history of war and the United States government's use of the word "war" in the latter half of the 20th century and up until today. All of America's "wars," up to and including World War II, had several things in common that we normally associate with the word "war." First, they involved armed conflict between the soldiers of two or more countries, each defending the ideologies of their leadership. In each case, there were specific and relatively narrow disagreements between the parties involved. The objectives of each war were, more or less, clear. For example, in the Revolutionary War, the primary issue was legitimacy of government. From the American perspective, the British had forfeited their legitimacy to govern the colonies through their oppressive practices. From the British perspective, the Americans were colonies and subjects of the British Empire and therefore had no political legitimacy from which to declare independence. This fundamental disagreement could not be resolved, and war was the result. There was a decisive objective, and a decisive end to that war. In the Civil War, the issues and results were similarly clear.
The 20th century saw the United States get involved with war away from American soil for the first time. American involvement in World War I, or the "Great War to End All Wars" as it was called at the time, was tinged with notions of going "over there" to rescue Europe, bringing a swift and just end to a horrific bloodbath. Barely 20 years later, World War II was underway, with the prime goal of halting the aggression and atrocities of the Nazis in Europe and the Japanese in Asia. Many Americans believe that World War II was the last "just" war that America has been involved in. Certainly, putting a stop to the Holocaust was an ethically justified objective by almost any measure. The Holocaust also represents one of the most vivid examples of the grey area between the notions of "war" and "crime"---an ambiguity we are still struggling with today.
But since World War II, the use of the word "war" by the United States government has become complex, confused, and problematic. This was the era when the "Cold War" began, when the word "war" was used to describe not outright combat, but opposing ideologies and detente between nations wielding enough destructive firepower to destroy the planet. The word "war" now referred to the possibility of war, a semantic maneuver that began to close off the possibility of serious debate over the role of "war" in the nuclear age. As time passed, the "Cold War" tensions erupted into violence in Asia. By almost any measure, the "conflicts" in Korea and Vietnam were wars. After all, there were disputes between political entities which could not be resolved, resulting in armed combat. But there was never a formal declaration of war; from the perspective of the U.S. government, they were not wars.
As the "conflict" in Vietnam was simmering---which the Johnson administration continued to insist was not a war---a new "war" was declared by the U.S. government. In his 1964 State of the Union Address, President Johnson told the American people that "this administration today, here and now, declares unconditional war on poverty in America." In words eerily familiar to those of us who have listened to George W. Bush's recent speeches, he also noted that "it will not be a short or easy struggle, no single weapon or strategy will suffice, but we shall not rest until that war is won." So for the first time, the word "war" was used as a metaphor by the U.S. government, without referring to even the possibility of armed combat between soldiers. Instead, the "War on Poverty" meant that the Johnson administration intended to expend its significant power and resources on reducing the effects of poverty on poor Americans.
"War" as a metaphor has been used by the U.S. government several times since. Beginning with the Nixon administration, and familiar to any student of the D.A.R.E. program, the U.S. government has been waging a "War on Drugs." "War" is, in this case, still being used as a metaphor, but in a very different way than the "War on Poverty." The "War on Poverty" did not target poor people, but the "War on Drugs" has indeed targeted those involved with drugs, either as users or addicts or as dealers. So like more traditional uses of the word "war," the "War on Drugs" has been a war where people have been killed and lives have been destroyed, disguised under the abstraction of a metaphor. But even this metaphor is flawed. The "War on Drugs" is more accurately a "War on Some Drugs," and still more accurately a "War On Some People Who Use Or Sell Some Drugs." The objectives of this "war" are less than clear. Presumably, it is a goal of the U.S. Government to protect its people from the dangers of drug addiction.
But this "War on Drugs" has not gone well, and at a very large cost to humanity as a whole. As a result of this war, violence has been perpetuated as the network of drug dealers from top to bottom have armed themselves in response to the heavily-armed DEA. Families have been torn apart as addicts, whom most in the medical community regard as "sick" and not as "criminal," have been incarcerated by the hundreds of thousands. As a result of this criminalization of addicts in the "War on Drugs," the United States now operates the largest prison system on the planet, with an overall incarceration rate 6 times that of the nearest western nation. Billions of dollars have been spent, thousands have been killed, countless lives have been destroyed, and drug use is today more popular than ever. Clearly, this "War on Drugs" has been an abysmal failure, a conclusion shared by nearly every vigorous, independent study conducted on it.
In recent weeks, George W. Bush has declared a "War on Terrorism." This war is beset with many of the same difficulties as the "War on Drugs." A "War On Terrorism" is more accurately described as a "War on Some Terrorism" and even more accurately as a "War on Some Terrorists." But there are additional problems. A "drug" is relatively easy to define as a substance that, when ingested into a human body, produces specific and measurable physiological changes in that body. "Terrorism," however, is not as concrete. I doubt many would disagree that the atrocities of 9/11 were acts of terrorism. But what are the limits of terrorism? If we look to the attack on the World Trade Center as a clear example of terrorism, we find the following characteristics: 1. a building was attacked with a bomb (in this case airplane fuel); 2. many innocent people were killed, either directly in the attack or in its aftermath (the collapse of the buildings); 3. the motivation for the attacks seems to be political in nature; and 4. the violence was not waged between two or more armies, but rather consisted of a premeditated, surprise attack on civilians.
In August 1998, there was another incident that can, by the above description of "terrorism," be described as a terrorist attack. A pharmaceutical factory in the Sudan was destroyed by a bomb; thousands of innocent people were killed either directly in the attack or in its aftermath (the subsequent lack of medicine in the Sudan); the attackers had a political motivation; and the violence was not waged between two or more armies but rather consisted of a premeditated, surprise attack on civilians. This act of "terrorism," however, was ordered not by Osama bin Laden, but by President Bill Clinton. It was carried out not by radical, fundamentalist Muslims, but by American soldiers. The bomb was not a hijacked airplane, but a cruise missile. My point is not to compare President Clinton to Osama bin Laden or to characterize U.S. soldiers as terrorists, but to point out that producing a precise definition of "terrorism" is, at best, a daunting task. Subsequently, a "War on Terrorism" is beset with several ambiguities. The U.S. government's use of the word "war" is problematic, and the notion of "terrorism" is problematic. With such complexities and ambiguities involved in the "War on Terrorism," I submit than an ethical justification of this "war" is impossible, simply because there is no clear definition of what a "War on Terrorism" is; there is no clear point of departure for an ethical investigation.
Since the U.S. government's use of the word "war" has become generic, vague, and confusing, the United States' success at waging war, literally or metaphorically, has been disastrous. With the possible exception of the "Cold War," America has not decisively "won" a single "war" it has been involved in since World War II. The Korean War ended in truce. Vietnam was a disaster. The Persian Gulf War seems to still be going on as we continue to regularly bomb Iraq. Anyone spending time in an inner city will tell you that the "War on Poverty" has failed. The "War on Drugs" has been an utterly tragic failure. With this evidence in mind, it is no fantastic leap to conclude that this new "War on Terrorism" is also doomed to fail.