The theology he articulated for his Roman church later formed the basis of our Genevan church. But it was his writing about international conflict that may be his best known. Augustine’s just war theory gets cited whenever hawks seek to commission their armies. Doves cite the theory to disarm the hawks’ case.
Both groups cite Augustine’s theory because, quite frankly, it is so well conceived and so thoughtfully developed that nobody — not even the peace church movement — has propounded an alternative that has been embraced by more than a small minority of Christians.
The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) does not have the power to conscript an army. But it habitually argues for and against legislation with a rhetorical ferocity that feels warlike.
Sometimes such debates produce a consensus vision for transforming the kingdoms of the world into the Kingdom of our Lord and Christ.
Sometimes those debates lead to divided conclusions that generate chaos — both for the mission intended and for the church itself.
As commissioners to the 2014 General Assembly in Detroit prepare, we do well to look at Augustine’s reasoning and apply it to the rhetorical and legislative process that can be so transformative — for better and for worse.
So what criteria did Augustine propound that would justify such warfare? Well, that’s debatable. It has been refined and adapted by thinkers ranging from Thomas Aquinas to Stanisław of Skarbimierz. The 1992 Catechism of the Roman Catholic Church offers four summary criteria for declaring war:
- Gravity: “the damage inflicted by the aggressor on the nation or community of nations must be lasting, grave and certain;”
- Utility: “all other means of putting an end to it must have been shown to be impractical or ineffective;”
- Prospects: “there must be serious prospects of success;” and
- Fallout: “the use of arms must not produce evils and disorders graver than the evil to be eliminated.”
As recent American history shows us, it is easy to get swept into the rush for action — whether it be the declaration of war or the adoption of legislation — whenever the proponent can boil all matters down to one single principle. “We must avenge this evil act.” Or … “We must stand up for the truth.” Or … “We must not compromise with culture.” Or … “Justice delayed is justice denied.”
General Assemblies, whose one-minute time limits generate little more than single point sound bites, notoriously avoid the complexity of multiple criteria.
But thoughtful, wise commissioners will resist such simplistic reductionisms. They will ask if the situation is grave enough to require action by this body. They will ask if the proposed response is the most practical. They will ask if the proposed answer promises successful results. They will ask if this effort will unleash unintended consequences among marginalized members, disenfranchised congregations, baffled faith partners or our Christian witness to the world.
A common practice when formulating and, later, defending approved policy statements is to assure that these statements speak to the church, not for the church. However, they often get applied as if they were policy for the whole church. That confusion could be better avoided by stating up front in those statements that these positions are exactly as defended: “The 221st General Assembly offers this action as counsel for our churches’ consideration as they seek to respond faithfully to the concerns that it raises. Agreement is not implied, expected nor anticipated.”
Augustine’s ideas were born within a pluralistic, multicultural empire. Our legislative initiatives get formed in a diverse theocratic democracy. But the principles he offered can apply to us because they reflect the multivalent truths and values revealed
in Scripture. If our commissioners will listen not just to one another’s arguments but also to the Bible as exegeted by the Bishop from Hippo, maybe a constructive consensus can emerge that could help the kingdoms of this world inch toward the Kingdom of our Lord and Christ.
