Unfinished Business: War 4

I want to follow Hume's dichotomy between 'ought' and 'is.' I do not pretend to have found any clue how, logically, one would draw an 'ought' out of an 'is.' This means the value argument must have its own independent premises, such as 'X ought to do A' or 'A is the right thing to do.' The desirability of the value premise can be supported (motivated) by examples and physical evidence, such as 'Look what happens when ...' or 'it has caused a lot of trouble ...' or 'Everyone approves ...' The examples and facts do not prove the premise, but gives it plausibility among human agents.

I like Immanuel Kant's categorical imperative, however complicated, but without the idealistic background. I take the Imperative as a working ethical principle, a model for making moral laws. I am aware of many rebuttals to Kant's views, and the unfortunate problem of "similar circumstances." Nonetheless, much of the workings of the Courts and Legislatures of modern democracies is either based on, or similar to, Kant's ideas. In practical operation, we solve the problem of "similar circumstances" as we go, making precedents judgement by judgement. Precedents are very often the exemplars of 'similar circumstances.'

Despite our thoughts splitting the world into is and ought, they are combined in us, somehow. As far as we know, chimps and tigers don't have quarrels about who struck who, or why. They just do it. We evolved from ancestors like that. At some point, someone began asking why; there was an evolution from no moral sense to today's highly refined laws and judges. (Or, are they so refined?) So, there's got to be a way - however convoluted and indirect - to go from is to ought; or, at least, from 'is' to the invention of 'ought.' There has to be some sense in which "ought" occurs naturally - NATURALLY - in beings that evolve a certain way.

This is really the same problem considered by Prof Dennett in his book "Consciousness Explained" (and "Kinds of Minds", etc). It's all about minds and intentionality. What I think Dennett proposes is that there is no "consciousness" distinct from the regular operations of our brains. 'The self' is a convenient illusion constructed by some very complex neuronal machinery, but it does not exist anywhere in particular. The same can be said of the US Government, or "the Administration," which we think of as one thing with one will, but which cannot found in the Oval Office or anywhere else. 'Self' and 'consciousness' are useful terms in our ordinary language and existence, probably because they disguise things too complex to say or point out otherwise.

In the same way, perhaps there are no "oughts" in the natural world. One cannot find "imperatives" anywhere. They may nonetheless exist as ethical principles or moral laws in the lives and discourse of certain kinds of beings. We don't have trouble thinking or talking about the law, whether we obey it or not. Yet, what is the law? Is it the Statutes, a bunch of words in very heavy duty books? Is it what the police officer is about to do to you? Is it a kind of behavior? Or, are all of these things involved in the law, but do not constitute the law "itself?"

My suggestion is that "ought", "law" "Administration and similar terms are like Dennett's consciousness in having no specific, empirically determinable content, but still have their roots in the material world. Prof Dennett is fighting off the dualists, Platonists and Cartesians, who attribute some other-worldly existence to the self ( "souls" ) in their attempt to explain it. I'm doing the same thing, as I am not interested in religious or ethereal justifications for an 'ought' or war. I believe what we do is right or wrong based on our human knowledge and experience, because that is all we have.

How do we apply some of these notions in determining whether a war is just? What sorts of "causes" are acceptable? Is it ever just to be an aggressor? Must we always 'turn the other cheek?' Or, are we sometimes allowed to defend ourselves?

Note: In the following there are a lot of quoted words. That's because, at the outset, I am not exactly sure what these words mean or how they are to be used correctly. Many of them are common enough words, and we think we know what they mean. So I use them because I need them to to say something. I take the common understanding (inexact as it may be) to be suggestive. Hopefully, we will refine our usage as we go along, and arrive at a better understanding at the end. I have to start with something ...
 

Causes

Historians would like to have causes. To the extent those causes are the results of, or the same as, conscious activity (decisions), we have (alleged) reasons. Reasons involve moral, even ethical choices. Then there are justifications. Justifications are required for just wars; they are arguments supplying reasons in favor of the war being just. It would be nice, for those who love intellectual order, if causes, reasons and justifications could be wrapped up together to make a neat bundle.

But, at least in this discussion, I want to disentangle "causes" from reasons because I prefer "causes" to be the more physical, amoral term. Historians speak of "causes" all the time, but they almost always mean reasons - the result of decision making. Thus, when Hitler alleged the Treaty of Versailles resulted from 'a stab in the back,' and that stab was eventually a cause of World War II, what is meant is that Hitler justified his prosecution of a policy leading to war by the supposed immoral decision of German politicians or the Prussian Army to betray Germany. That immoral decision, betrayal, when negated, becomes a reason for the reverse policy (continuing the war).

Generally, "cause" is a word that regularly gets philosophers in trouble, trouble that I am hoping to avoid. Luckily, in speaking of most historical causes, I can avoid implying any natural necessity. Casus belli are almost always intentional, not compelled. Of course, there are strange cases, such as the famine that causes A, who has no food, to attack B, who has some. This is still not the same thing as "physical cause;" for example, when we allege that letting go an object at a height is caused to fall by gravity. A attacking B is physical in the sense that A is hungry for physical reasons, but it is more common to say that A was driven to attack B. A could choose not to attack B; for example, if B happens to be armed to the teeth and A is assured of instant death upon attack. One can observe disinclination to attack even among large, hungry cats in Africa when confronted by a large, bull elephant.

There may be some incidents in which war is precipitated by a natural event or condition, in the same way released objects fall. I think it is sufficiently rare (I can't think of any instances), that we should explain such a war with non-value laden language. When A's hunger impels him to attack B without thought or reason, surely the explanation lies in A's "constitution:" A has become a living automaton, a zombie. If such a war occurs, there is no casus belli, reason or justification, because there is no intention in the event. Such a thing just happens. In those cases, we can excuse the participants - both aggressors and defenders - as merely having done what was necessary, or what they were "compelled" to do. They couldn't help themselves.

When we speak of wars between predators and prey, or other "wars" by analogy to the human ones, we are doing so in the way just suggested. Those are not intentional, considered wars, certainly not as we humans mean "considered." What we are describing in such cases by using the term "wars" is a fight between the various participants which appears similar to human wars. There is always the difference that wars in the natural world are genetically determined, or a (possibly learned) characteristic of the species. There is no point where the Army ants overcome nature and nurture to reflect, 'do I want to attack this nest?' Or, at least, none that we know about: they just do it, or so it appears. The wars between ants and most (if not all) species of the natural world are excused from moral judgement because there is no "ought" in their behavior. "Ought," that is, is directly involved in moral decisions.

In modern times, being excused from moral responsibility is reserved for rare occasions, such as the lifeboat problem. If we know only 10 people will survive the journey and be rescued, then something must be done about the extra 10 we start with. Whatever method is chosen to dispense with the extra lives, we need only assure ourselves that everything is done to preserve as many as possible to be excused from moral judgement about the others. (There is still the uneasy problem of "assuring ourselves," for do we know when or how we will be saved?) The problem is the same in every case of Darwinian survival of the fittest. While it seems simple enough, certainly for automatons, it is a different matter for actors capable of intentionality. These cases must be decided according to how much is voluntary, how much not. To the extent there is a voluntary component, it would be judged according to the rules of ethical behavior. Ethical behavior, that is, involves application of some sort of guidelines. In order to justify the eventual "ought" of a moral judgement, the guidelines somewhere must reference a premise containing an "ought." That premise is the ethical principle which justifies or condemns what is being done. This is very different from the case of the lion and the elephant.

Sub Specie Aeternitatis

Even if "natural causes" are quite different from casus belli, historians and other people commonly speak of the causes of war as if they were in some way "natural" or "forced." The alleged causes are often of the form, 'I couldn't help myself ...' or 'I did what I had to do ...' Historians, especially those enamored of some theory of history or other, often record casus belli as if they were the compelling result of "forces" or "situations." Leo Tolstoy, for example, in his famous lecture at the end of War and Peace, as well as in the novel itself, wishes to demonstrate the inevitability and necessity of historical processes. Napoleon was doomed, no matter what he did, because the world was arranged to make it so. This makes for a good story, in the form of classical tragedy, wherein the hero is overcome by a fate, about which we spectators are apprehensive from the beginning.

But is that really the stuff of history? If so, what of moral responsibility, of choice? If it makes no difference what Napoleon chooses, if he is merely a puppet on some stage, then the French invasion of Russia is just another natural event. In such explanations, there cannot be a casus belli except in the very physical sense that "A did this, so B did that." While I and many other readers are fascinated by the story's sense of inevitability, it also lets the players off all moral hooks

Marxist history is also like Tolstoy's, but with very different conclusions. God has nothing to do with it for Marx. Somehow the 'historical forces' (first invoked by Hegel) will test each other (thesis and antithesis) and inevitably come to a conclusion (synthesis) For Marx, that conclusion was the socialist State and then the anarchy of perfect Communism. Marxists often argue for doing just about anything in the name of the cause. Stalinists I have known, particularly, are notorious for arguing that 'things must get worse before they can get better.' Indeed, Stalinists are often perfectly willing to make things worse so that things might get better. No matter how horrid the atrocity, this sort of political player is exempt from moral judgement, because they are doing the work of History, or Allah, or God or ...

I, however, want to say that the players - Napoleon, Caesar, Pharaoh, LBJ and, most recently, Bush, Cheney, Rummy, Wolfie and the rest - are responsible for their actions. Pleading the Bible, or History, is not an excuse or natural cause for war (and many other things). For practical purposes in the affairs of men, I must propose that no one knows the end(s) of the supposed historical forces or supernatural creatures. [Proponents of war often make claims of such knowledge to justify their acts.] People can make claims about the ends, but they lie in our unknown future. I think there is lots of evidence (occasions), when people wrongly claimed such-and-so would be the case. I take it as a fact that humans are fallible, even in our perception of supposedly infallible gods. So, within the range of human life, acts of war cannot be dismissed as 'natural events' or 'the will of God.' Again, for practical purposes, we must treat players in the drama as if they had "free will;" i.e., as if they have intentions which they attempt to enact in the "real world" - my world, your world, our world.

If there is any eternal, final judgement, all of us will be examined then. In the meantime, I have to go with what I've got. That's my operating assumption. Generalizing, I assume everyone else is in the same fix.

Perspective, or Setting

There is a difference between what an observer might say is a cause, and what a participant alleges as cause (if any allegation is made). A journeyman historian would look for all the evidence that bears on a certain event. For the purposes of that research, voluntary actors can be slated as involuntary. "A attacked B because he was maddened by hunger," gives cause for A's action, as seen by an outsider, without regard to any of A's internal states. But, A may see it differently, proposing that B is some sort of monster for not offering food to A. B may have yet another perspective, either unknowing of, or unconcerned about, A's hunger.

Where one stands makes a big difference in how the story is told. This makes the study of reasons for war difficult, because there are probably as many stories as there are tellers. This is what happens, after dismissing the gods and demons of history. The differing stories warn us, at the outset, not to trust anyone. That is the same warning implied in modern physics: the observer is part of the experiment. The further implication is that everything must be evaluated relatively, in relation to other things. This gets complicated, for we may not even know all of the other things to which the instance (case, decision, etc) is relative. As in Quantum Mechanics, our best conjecture may be a probability function: A is likely to be so, or more likely than B, C ... The eventual "final" explanation will have to await more, complete evidence.

For some reason, lots of people are upset by this sort of thing when it comes to ethics and morals. They want ethical principles to be firmly undeniable. They want morals (commandments, laws) to be stated clearly, so there is no mistake when they apply. People are intolerant of the fuzziness we've come to accept in physics. It seems, in matters of valuation, we haven't arrived at Einstein or Heisenberg; we are firmly stuck in some Victorian, Newtonian world. In economics, the parallel attitude is the love of hard money, gold and silver; still a major presence in global financial markets. (That's why people still buy gold when there is a "flight to quality".)

I, however, see no reason why the story should not be partial, incomplete and merely probable. That leaves room for later "adjustments;" even novel explanations. Such open-endedness is a sine qua non of all modern science. Who was Jack the Ripper? I doubt we will ever know exactly or definitely. Nonetheless, we do "know" a lot about the man because of what we have learned about others like him. Experts on male serial killers of female prostitutes can paint a pretty reliable picture of Jack's "personality", even if it's not a photo. This conjectured personality is likely to be useful in looking for the historical Jack, just as such clues lead us to real, present day criminals.

Our Courts do not demand absolute proof, but only reasonable proof. In capital cases, a stricter standard, 'beyond a reasonable doubt,' is used, but that standard does not demand perfection. In all that we do, we admit error, and we make allowances for later changes of circumstance, evidence or law. In the United States, the more "final" a judgement is, the longer and more arduous are the proceedings to implement it. Thus, it takes nearly a decade to validate a death sentence. This seems appropriate in our world of approximate and probable: not only to set the punishment to fit the crime, but to adjust the immediacy and severity of punishment according to a standard of error. Where near certainty is required, we delay and review before applying our conclusion (judgement). In other cases, we proceed to punishment more quickly and with lighter hearts.

Since, in recent times, instigators of wars often end up in International Courts, the analogy to legal proceedings is becoming more relevant. I should like to apply the same sort of 'likely' and 'probable' standards to causes of war. This means participants and by-standers need to be taken as observers - witnesses - to the acts examined. It is fair game to ask what the observer has to do with acts of war. Who and what did you know? When did you know it? Were you ordered to do this? If so, by who, and why? If not, how did this behavior evolve?

Our examination of the witnesses must allow for subjective responses, since we are inquiring into the intentions of war-makers and war-doers, not just what they did. We will never discover their purposes by looking only at their deeds, any more than we will ever really "know" Jack the Ripper by his deeds. The subjective report has to be part of the record, especially if we admit that decisions are "voluntary," not guided or determined by a larger power or force.

Examining the psychological states of the players is not simple or straightforward, because intentional actors can deceive and mislead the examiners. After all, the witnesses are assumed capable of formulating the information they give; they are not robot recorders. Further, human witnesses are provably bad observers; they do not accurately record what is before their eyes. On account of those well known problems, investigators want to use and believe lie detector tests: they simplify the problem. Here is a wonderful machine that exposes the lies, and reinforces the truths, a subject may utter or evoke. Would we had such a machine when Odysseus, Plato or St Thomas of Aquinas were alive! And then there were the moderns, Hitler, Stalin, Roosevelt and Churchill, who co-existed with lie detectors, but apparently were never examined. Despite wishes, all is not well with lie detectors: they are rarely admissible as evidence in our Courts. The problem is the lack of any scientific basis for determining the correlation of the measurements with true or false reports. Lie detector tests are administered and interpreted by lie detector experts, not by an automatic system guided by infallible rules. Those experts have the same problems as the witnesses and the investigators: they are all human.

So, immediately, our problem in discovering causes of human activities is compounded, if those causes are not just the results of natural or supernatural forces and not readily detectable in historical events. The Battle of Borodino may have determined Napoleon's eventual fate in Russia, but the battle itself does not tell us why it was fought. It does not even mandate the subsequent course of its main players. Napoleon was not forced to occupy Moscow. The Tsar was not forced to resist surrender. Many different strategies could have been pursued by both sides after Borodino, not just the one which was followed. Without the recorded history of Borodino, the battle and its consequences would be another insoluble puzzle.

In the Pacific Theater of World War II (WWII), United States soldiers used napalm and flame throwers against the Japanese. This was justified by the alleged fanatical resistance of the Japanese soldiers, and their unwillingness to surrender. This story was based on the supposed allegiance of all Japanese soldiers to the Code of Bushido. While the educated Japanese officer class was familiar with those Samurai practices, it is not clear the common "grunt' was so informed. (Most ordinary soldiers just want the war to end, and to go home.) Despite that, WWII was a vicious war, so no test was conducted to determine the intentions of those on the ground. The victims burned to death by napalm are not here to testify. The same scenario applies to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. As so often happens, only the victors survive to tell the "truth" about the war.

While I am not an expert criminal investigator, it seems to me the following considerations apply, once we admit subjective evidence:

● The biography of each witness should be presented in sufficient detail to determine any predispositions. For example, if the witness was born French, joined the Free French, fought the Germans in WWII, etc, what testimony about Germans would we expect?

 

● What opinions the witness now has about possibly related subjects, as well as whether the witness had any "conversions" about these subjects, should be reported. If the witness' views have changed dramatically at times, we need to have the whole story about that. Is this witness reliable? A traitor? A paid informant? A double agent?

 

● Corroboration of the witness: Do others tell the same story? Have the witness' reports been upheld in other cases? Are there any discordant facts? Are there details initially known only to a witness that verify the witness' presence at the scene?

Generally, all those things lawyers are trained to bring out in trial should be adduced in our examination of causes. The difference in this discussion is, this proceeding is not adversarial. While trials in Court seek truth, that truth is determined by the ability of the contesting representatives. (Trials are probably derived from ancient times, when disputes were settled by ritual combat.) I am concerned that accounting for causes bring out those things lawyers normally suppress. Legal skills are important in examining causes, but have to be applied fully and fairly.

The simple facts - the truth - are not enough. As in scientific work, causes are attributable only after extensive and intensive investigation. Expert opinion on causes may vary, and more than one cause may be apparent in connection with a given event.

Causes are usually part of hypotheses, theories, proposed by intelligent creatures to explain - connect - the objects of their interest. There is no necessity whatever that those objects or events happened as described, or that they happened at all. Even so, for theorists causes are connectors between events: B would not, could not, have happened except for A. To construct a credible theory requires careful examination of causes, and must allow for error. The most we can ever say is, A is the probable cause of B. Even that statement is subject to usual pitfall of science: a single counter-instance is a sufficient refutation.

Part 4 ... continued