The Mitey Walzer

by Daniel on July 2, 2009

I’ve made a number of rather harsh comments about Michael Walzer on CT in the recent past, motivated by his twin tendencies to a) reinvent the wheel with respect to international humanitarian law and b) produce arguments which seem to be tailored like a Versace evening gown to fit round the voluptuous curves of Israeli foreign policy. In this article in the New York Review of Books, however, he revisits the issue of “human shields” and although I still find it frustrating that he’s not referencing the legal literature at all, it’s clear that he’s not simply playing the more-in-sorrow-than-anger apologetics game. His specific contention is that a country in a “human shields” situation has a duty to have as much concern for foreign noncombatants as if they were its own citizens; I’m not sure that I agree with this because IIRC Walzer has a particular standard for noncombatant status that I don’t agree with[1], but it’s clear that he’s not shaping his views round the “facts on the ground”. I therefore, to the extent that I have previously suggested he had turned into a simple partisan hack, and without qualifying my opinions of the actual past articles concerned (which I maintain were bad), apologise.

[1] Also, he operates to a standard based on efforts taken to “minimise” noncombatant casualties whereas I think it’s very important to insist on the Geneva Conventions’ standard of “not excessive relative to the concrete definite military objective”. The difference being that under the Geneva standard, but seemingly not Walzer’s, you can have situations where even “minimised” casualties are still “excessive”, meaning that you’re just not allowed to do the military thing. I think that Walzer’s NYRB piece implies that he’d actually agree with the Geneva standard in practical applications, but it’s much clearer.

{ 30 comments }

1

james 07.02.09 at 4:15 pm

Could you provide a for instance example of “not excessive relative to the concrete definite military objective”. I have always taken this to mean you didnt blow up the city to take out the power station. Others take this to mean you dont blow up the power station because its connected to the hospital.

2

dsquared 07.02.09 at 4:23 pm

basically you can blow up a primary school in order to take out a concealed nuclear weapon, but not to take out a couple of blokes holding an RPG.

3

ejh 07.02.09 at 5:48 pm

Doesn’t this mean effectively “given what a nuclear weapon can do, you’re entitled to do pretty much anything to take it out”?

4

dsquared 07.02.09 at 5:52 pm

more or less yes; this was the basis of deterrence.

5

Tom Hurka 07.02.09 at 6:27 pm

Daniel’s “Geneva standard” is what many of us call proportionality, while Walzer’s “minimize” idea is “necessity” (i.e. don’t use more force than is necessary to achieve a legitimate goal). Both are vital to the ius in bello, yet Walzer has tended to treat the second as his invention while downplaying the first, because of skepticism about the weighing of values it requires. But I’m with Daniel: proportionality is vital to the ethics of war and is standardly used in just war critiques, e.g. today’s Amnesty report on Gaza.

But while Margalit and Walzer argue that all noncombatants’ lives, whatever their citizenry, should have equal weight, there’s a point where they seem to accept a key premise of Kasher and Yadlin. That’s where they say that, if Israeli soldiers obey the rules, e.g. necessity, then “responsibility for the deaths of Hezbollah’s human shields — in all the cases — falls only on Hezbollah.” (Compare this with the last two passages they quote from K and Y.)

One of K and Y’s reasons for placing Israeli soldiers’ lives above Palestinian civilians’ lives — their *very* controversial claim — is that since the terrorists are responsible for placing the civilians at risk, the responsibility for the civilians’ deaths, where those are unavoidable given a legitimate objective, belongs to the terrorists rather than to the soldiers. Doesn’t the M and W quote above seem to endorse that line?

If so, Daniel may want to reconsider his apology.

6

dsquared 07.02.09 at 8:54 pm

since I am operating a neutral fiscal stance with respect to apologies, I will withdraw the one extended to Michael Walzer above, and instead reassign it to Tom Hurka, who I was rude to the last time this subject came up on CT. Sorry Tom.

7

ejh 07.02.09 at 9:51 pm

more or less yes; this was the basis of deterrence.

When you say “was”…..

8

Kenny Easwaran 07.03.09 at 1:24 am

When you mentioned the distinction between “minimize” and “not excessive”, you pointed out that there are cases in which minimized casualties may still be excessive. But before you mentioned that, I assumed the distinction you were going to make was that non-excessive casualties may still not be minimized. Do you mean to leave out minimization, or do you just mean that non-excessive should be an additional condition, rather than a replacement?

9

dsquared 07.03.09 at 6:27 am

Tom H has it correct above – there is a duty both to minimise casualties and to ensure they are not excessive. For various technical reasons that occasionally seem terribly important I prefer “not excessive” to “proportionate”

10

dsquared 07.03.09 at 10:17 am

I’d also add that in my interpretation of Walzer (although I seem to remember not Tom H’s), the duty to minimise amounts to an absolute prohibition on indiscriminate attacks, which is apropos, given the publication of the latest Amnesty International report

11

Alex 07.03.09 at 11:12 am

One of K and Y’s reasons for placing Israeli soldiers’ lives above Palestinian civilians’ lives—their very controversial claim—is that since the terrorists are responsible for placing the civilians at risk, the responsibility for the civilians’ deaths, where those are unavoidable given a legitimate objective, belongs to the terrorists rather than to the soldiers. Doesn’t the M and W quote above seem to endorse that line?

This is a rare case in history of highly intelligent people desperately seeking legal justifications to do what their enemies would like to convince everyone they want to do. See also: Iraq. Seems to be a lot of it about.

12

dsquared 07.03.09 at 11:22 am

See further the Amnesty International report, which finds several instances of IDF troops using human shields, by breaking into houses, forcing the inhabitants to remain within the house (tied up on the ground floor) and then using the upper floors as a base to shoot at Hamas fighters.

13

Bloix 07.03.09 at 4:35 pm

When I read this article back in May, it seemed to me that Margalit and Walzer were proposing a hopelessly idealistic standard. Here is their concluding fomulation:

This is the guideline we advocate: Conduct your war in the presence of noncombatants on the other side with the same care as if your citizens were the noncombatants.”

The thing is, no one does this – no one comes even close to doing this. And doing it would drastically interfere with the ability to win the war.

First, if an invading army protects civilian lives and property, then the defending army has no need to do so – which may mean that it cannot be defeated. In the American Civil War, the Union Army began with the philosophy that Confederate civilians were American citizens whose lives and property had to be protected. This meant that the Confederate armies had no need to protect civilian productive assets. The Confederates could engage or refuse to engage Union forces at their discretion. It was only when the Union began to free slaves, seize animals and stores, and burn farms and cities that the Confederates were forced to join battle on the Union’s terms. If the Union had fought on the basis of the Margalit/Waltzer principle, it would have lost the war.

And conducting combat “with care” for civilians means exposing one’s own soldiers to death. If the Blue Army has a military objective – a hilltop outpost, say, with a village on the slope – it will want to bomb it before attacking with ground troops. If the villagers are Red civilians, the Blue commander may as a matter of decency conduct the bombing to cause as little damage to the village as possible, even though he knows that by destroying the village he would restrict resupply to the outpost. He accepts the risk that bombs may accidentally fall in the village.

But if the villagers are Blues, he will not bomb at all – the damage to the war effort from accidental Blue civilian deaths would outweigh the military benefits of the shelling. He attacks only with ground troops, knowing that many more soldiers will die, in order to prevent the more serious losses that would be engendered by self-inflicted civilian deaths, or he may simply besiege the hilltop, tying down men and resources that are badly needed elsewhere.

But according to Margalit/Walzer, this commander is behaving immorally. If he would not shell in order to protect the Blue village then he must not shell in order to protect the Red village. No one does this – we are in Peter Singer land, in terms of impracticality.

Lastly, in many modern conflicts, a major goal of one side or both sides is to hold territory and maintain civilian habitation, in anticipation that borders will be drawn based on cease fire lines – which means that protecting one’s own civilians is a military objective. For example, the Bosnian army’s primary goal in fighting the Serb insurgency was to protect Bosnian civilians from the Serb “ethnic cleansing” ( ie genocide) in order to protect the territorial integrity of majority-Bosniak areas. Margalit/Walzer appear to be saying that the Bosnian war goal was immoral. Their argument, taken to its logical conclusion, would mean that the only legitimate Bosnian goal would have been to defeat the Serbs militarily – an impossible task that, if pursued, would have led to the destruction of Bosnia.

14

james 07.03.09 at 9:54 pm

Margalit/Walzer argument also presupposes that in all cases a soldiers death is morally preferable to a civilians death. That in fact there may be some greater ratio of soldiers deaths to civilian deaths before it becomes morally unacceptable. The argument is often based on the consequences of joining the military voluntarily. At the end of the day, both parties are human beings.

Most of the standards applied to just war are weighted by the individuals view of each side prior to any hostilities. That there is no hard standards and ‘just war’ theory is a method to encourage one side into fighting an even more restricted conflict in the outside hope of receiving political or popular support.

15

Nick L 07.03.09 at 10:46 pm

The question of proportionality isn’t even raised by nuclear deterrence. MAD is premised on countervalue, striking the enemy population centres. Killing the enemy civilian population isn’t an unwanted but inevitable result of massive retaliation, but the object. It’s a modern form of hostage taking and therefore raises a different set of issues. Nuclear weapons may indeed be inherently indiscriminate, but that is beside the point when you are aiming to harm enemy civilians.

Nuclear counterforce of course raises the issues of proportionality and discrimination, but counterforce raises unusual strategic issues and wasn’t in any case the basis of deterrence doctrines in the Cold War.

16

Donald Johnson 07.04.09 at 1:23 am

“But if the villagers are Blues, he will not bomb at all – the damage to the war effort from accidental Blue civilian deaths would outweigh the military benefits of the shelling. ”

Is that true? Historically, has anyone ever shelled bombed or shelled their own people? I don’t know offhand. I would guess the answer is yes. How did the Free French feel about taking France back from the Nazis? Did any French villages get bombed?

This did come up in a Star Trek episode (in the last series, which I shamefully admit to watching.) There was the usual mucking around with the timeline by evil aliens from the future and the Nazis had captured much of the eastern seaboard of the US. The Americans were going to launch a counterattack and the characters took it for granted that this might involve the US air force bombing American cities. I took it for granted that we would in fact have done this, trying to minimize US civilian casualties, but if you’ve got Nazi bases inside Brooklyn, you’re going to bomb them.

17

Bloix 07.04.09 at 2:08 am

I’m sure there are events in which an army has bombed or shelled its own village without being able to evacuate it first. I’m not saying it never happened. Perhaps I should have said “may.” The point is that there are political and morale calculations involved in killing one’s own citizens that don’t apply to those of an enemy or a neutral.

To take a factual example- when NATO bombed Serbia in order to force Milosevich to withdraw from Kosovo, the planes flew at high altitude in order to avoid Serbian anti-aircraft weapons. This increased the number of off-target bombs and resulting civilian deaths. Thus a calculation was made that in order to protect NATO airmen (and thereby to avoid the political fallout of casualties), extra Serb civilian deaths would be tolerated. No such calculation would have been possible if the civilians had belonged to NATO member states.

This kind of thing goes on all the time. Whether it’s moral or immoral, it’s how war is fought. Margalit/Walzter don’t seem to understand that their proposal would be a radical change in the practice of war, and that in many cases it would, if accepted, make war impossible. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing – but I am saying that they don’t admit that they are effectively arguing for pacifism.

18

Henri Vieuxtemps 07.04.09 at 7:52 am

Historically, has anyone ever bombed or shelled their own people?

I read somewhere that in the WWII the allies bombed the hell out of Normandy before the invasion. Apparently it was a really stupid and atrocious bombing campaign, destroying cities and villages, killing scores and scores of locals, while German military units were sitting outside populated areas unharmed. Apparently when Americans invaded they weren’t exactly greeted with flowers. Apparently there’s still some resentment out there in Normandy.

19

Phil 07.04.09 at 9:16 am

I read somewhere that in the WWII the allies bombed the hell out of Normandy before the invasion

You read right. Caen in particular got pretty comprehensively shot-up before it was liberated, and apparently without making it much easier to liberate. Add that to the widespread French conviction that the country was liberated by the Resistance (with a bit of outside help), and you can see how there could be a fair bit of ill-feeling.

20

Mrs Tilton 07.04.09 at 4:36 pm

more or less yes; this was the basis of deterrence

One shudders to think what would be deemed permissible in the case of an enemy possessing shoggoths.

21

lemuel pitkin 07.04.09 at 5:25 pm

One shudders to think what would be deemed permissible in the case of an enemy possessing shoggoths.

Well, clearly you’d be allowed to deploy shoggoths of your own. Which could end badly.

22

Matt 07.04.09 at 5:33 pm

Thus a calculation was made that in order to protect NATO airmen (and thereby to avoid the political fallout of casualties), extra Serb civilian deaths would be tolerated.

I think that this is the very best, and almost certainly unduely charitable, interpretation you could put on these events. My impression is that unless such deaths were seen as a slight plus (so long as they were kept fairly low), it becomes extremely hard to explain much of the action.

23

Tim Wilkinson 07.05.09 at 1:47 pm

The Waltzer/Margalit piece is unimpressive as a philosophical article (and being published in a non-academic publication is no excuse). Tedious (and suspect) unclarity aside, the wrongnesses cut both ways along the notional excessive/insufficient force axis, as well as along dimensions orthogonal to it. PErhaps unfiar to say so without giving chapter and verse, but still.

I’d focus on one obvious and pretty conclusive problem with ‘necessity’ as the sole criterion of justification: it’s unrestrictedly resource-relative. Strictly interpreted (for how else?) it implies that if all you happen to have at your disposal is a nuke, then you can use that to destroy a spear in the middle of Manhattan. (Or if you are not of a philosophical disposition, tone down the example until you get to one that’s ‘realistic’.)

More specifically, Bloix’s reference to tying down men and resources that are badly needed elsewhere illustrates how assessment of ‘necessity’ rapidly becomes a global matter – if you spread your civilian-preserving resources (misleadingly equated, btw, with engangerment of soldiers) thinly enough by adopting a sufficiently ambitious range of ‘legitimate’ objectives, then more or less anything can be made out to be necessary.

It’s also worth pointing ou that what counts as a legitimate military objective is presented as an independently answerable question, but almost certanly isn’t. Destroying a field of crops which may feed enemy soldiers (as well as the civilain population) may be regarded as a lgit objective if the relevant soldiers can’t be (or won’t be) killed directly, but possibly not otherwise. Not suer about this particular example, but certainly ‘necessity’, unlike ‘proportionality’, requires that legitmate objectives can be dientified prior to any consideration of the means of achieving them.

24

Z 07.06.09 at 12:51 am

I read somewhere that in the WWII the allies bombed the hell out of Normandy before the invasion.

Not only Normandy, but also fake targets to convince the Nazis that they might invade from a number of places. As for people not greeting Americans with flowers there, yes, this is true: you should talk about it with my grand-father, who lived in Rouen in 1944, and that should tell you everything needed. Though hard to hear, for French and Americans alike I guess, the truth is that allied forces inflicted incommensurably more damages that Nazis on Normandy.

To answer the question of Donald Johnson, not only allied forces bombed French villages but inflicted massive damages on several French towns (Brest, Le Havre, Nantes, Rouen, Boulogne, Caen…) with civilian victims in each of these towns at least comparable to, say, the Coventry blitz.

25

Map Maker 07.06.09 at 2:44 am

Were the French allies in World War Two? Just like the Austrians? Bombing Mers-el-Kébir may have been more justified than the damage to Normandy, but both seem to fall under the same doctrine.

26

james 07.06.09 at 3:24 am

Z at 24 – “Though hard to hear, for French and Americans alike I guess, the truth is that allied forces inflicted incommensurably more damages that Nazis on Normandy.”

Was Normandy ever a battle front between the Germans and the French during WWII? Hadn’t the French surrendered long before the advancing German lines reached that point?

27

Z 07.06.09 at 1:40 pm

Hadn’t the French surrendered long before the advancing German lines reached that point?

Sure. The thing is, French and Americans alike, or so it seems to me, nowadays like to think about WWII as a conflict between pure good-allied forces-and pure evil-the German occupying forces. Of course, things were not as simple and people who actually lived the period remember something much more nuanced.

But all this was in response to the question whether Americans ever bombed allied cities. The answer is of course yes, and I think their decision was justified and strategically sound

My grand-father dug out burning bodies from under destroyed houses and my grand-mother, who was an active member of the Resistance, nonetheless has not so fond memories of the liberation of her hometown by the Americans (apparently, they looted more properties in a week than the Germans in four years).

28

ajay 07.06.09 at 1:46 pm

Armies shelling their own civilians for military reasons: this happened, inadvertently, in London. You can’t fire anti-aircraft guns over a city without some of the shells falling back to earth rather than detonating in the air. (The military objective here, of course, was to stop London being bombed…) It also happened in the Falklands, with three civilians killed by British artillery.

26: yes, it was, in 1944, when Leclerc’s 1 Fr Armoured Div was part of the invading force – and before the invasion, when the Jedburgh teams and the French Resistance was doing their stuff. Not in 1940, though.

29

ajay 07.06.09 at 1:48 pm

Also: “Were the French allies in World War Two? Just like the Austrians?”

Yes, they were, you silly man. The French army suffered half as many war dead as the US army during the war (from a population a quarter the size) and France was a combatant power for almost as long as the US – 1939-40 and 1944-45, v. 1941-45.

30

Rieder 07.06.09 at 10:01 pm

This is an eloquent and interesting book, although you do not quite get what it says on the tin. Karen Armstrong takes the reader through a history of religious practice in many different cultures, arguing that in the good old days and purest forms they all come to much the same thing. They use devices of ritual, mystery, drama, dance and meditation in order to enable us better to cope with the vale of tears in which we find ourselves. Religion is therefore properly a matter of a practice, and may be compared with art or music. These are similarly difficult to create, and even to appreciate. But nobody who has managed either would doubt that something valuable has happened in the process. We come out of the art gallery or concert hall enriched and braced, elevated and tranquil, and may even fancy ourselves better people, though the change may or may not be noticed by those around us.

This is religion as it should be, and, according to Armstrong, as it once was in all the world’s best traditions. However, there is a serpent in this paradise, as in others. Or rather, several serpents, but the worst is the folly of intellectualising the practice. This makes it into a matter of belief, argument, and ultimately dogma. It debases religion into a matter of belief in a certain number of propositions, so that if you can recite those sincerely you are an adept, and if you can’t you fail. This is Armstrong’s principal target. With the scientific triumphs of the 17th century, religion stopped being a practice and started to become a theory – in particular the theory of the divine architect. This is a perversion of anything valuable in religious practice, Armstrong writes, and it is only this perverted view that arouses the scorn of modern “militant” atheists. So Dawkins, Dennett, Hitchens and Harris have chosen a straw man as a target. Real religion is serenely immune to their discovery that it is silly to talk of a divine architect.

So what should the religious adept actually say by way of expressing his or her faith? Nothing. This is the “apophatic” tradition, in which nothing about God can be put into words. Armstrong firmly recommends silence, having written at least 15 books on the topic. Words such as “God” have to be seen as symbols, not names, but any word falls short of describing what it symbolises, and will always be inadequate, contradictory, metaphorical or allegorical. The mystery at the heart of religious practice is ineffable, unapproachable by reason and by language. Silence is its truest expression. The right kind of silence, of course, not that of the pothead or inebriate. The religious state is exactly that of Alice after hearing the nonsense poem “Jabberwocky”: “Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas – only I don’t exactly know what they are.” If Alice puts on a dog collar, she will be at one with the tradition.

Armstrong is not presenting a case for God in the sense most people in our idolatrous world would think of it. The ordinary man or woman in the pew or on the prayer mat probably thinks of God as a kind of large version of themselves with mysterious powers and a rather nasty temper. That is the vice of theory again, and as long as they think like that, ordinary folk are not truly religious, whatever they profess. By contrast, Armstrong promises that her kinds of practice will make us better, wiser, more forgiving, loving, courageous, selfless, hopeful and just. Who can be against that?

The odd thing is that the book presupposes that such desirable improvements are the same thing as an increase in understanding – only a kind of understanding that has no describable content. It is beyond words, yet is nevertheless to be described in terms of awareness and truth. But why should we accept that? Imagine that I come out of the art gallery or other trance with a beatific smile on my face. I have enjoyed myself, and feel better. Perhaps I give a coin to the beggar I ignored on the way in. Even if I do so, there is no reason to describe the improvement in terms of my having understood anything. If I feel more generous, well and good, but the proof of that pudding is not my beatific smile but how I behave. As Wittgenstein, whose views on religion Armstrong thoroughly endorses, also said, an inner process stands in need of outward criteria. You can feel good without being good, and be good without stretching your understanding beyond words. Her experience of “Jabberwocky” may have improved Alice.

Silence is just that. It is a kind of lowest common denominator of the human mind. The machine is idling. Which direction it then goes after a period of idling is a highly unpredictable matter. As David Hume put it, in human nature there is “some particle of the dove, mixed in with the wolf and the serpent”. So we can expect that some directions will be better and others worse. And that is what, alas, we always find, with or without the song and dance.

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