Cashing in on Religion’s Currency?: Ethical Challenges for a Post-secular Military
John Carlson Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Religion's prominence in this era of globalization is increasingly difficult to deny, and secular institutions are making significant adjustments to the new realities.[1] The U.S. military is one such organization coming to grips with the post-secular world it inhabits. Indeed, we are told, engaging war's spiritual dynamics has become a military necessity. This essay considers the shifting contours of this post-secular landscape and the attendant ethical challenges for a consummately secular organization that rather suddenly discovers the relevance of religion to its mission and operating areas.
Given the currency of religion in the global arena, military chaplains—as designated point-men and point-women on religious and spiritual matters—play an essential role in this emerging wartime context. Asking too little of them risks underutilizing essential "organic" assets uniquely positioned to address significant religious challenges. However, simply dumping all religious matters into their collective laps carries risks of another kind. The chaplain is one person. He or she alone simply cannot do all the hard work to fill the military's religion gaps that have formed over the years. Rather, religion—or what we might call more broadly the spiritual dimension of war—is everybody's "problem" and charge to consider, from the generals on down.
To explore this claim, we do well to consider both public and private facets of faith and spirituality, which is how secular frameworks divide all things religious. So doing allows us to assess the benefits of secular approaches and presuppositions—as well as the limitations. For the public and private dimensions of religion and war implicate and insinuate one another in ways that traditional secular frameworks do not recognize.
The Post-secular Landscape and the Strategic Value of Religion
An enduring feature of modernity in the West has been the well-established division between the secular affairs of public life and the spiritual affairs of private faith and religious practice. The U.S. military, like other institutions of public life, both reflects and reinforces this distinction. Secular institutions are not by definition anti-religious. Rather, they are simply non-religious, focused on matters impacting all people, regardless of faith. Other domains include the government and law, economic life and commerce, scientific inquiry and technological innovation, foreign affairs, and various dimensions of social life that citizens share or pursue in common. Such realms are not irrelevant to religious traditions or perspectives, which sometimes underwrite them; but their autonomy and legitimacy does not rely on explicitly religious references or rationales.[2]
Western political history has sharpened the secular divide. A legacy of the Peace of Westphalia (1648) that ended Europe's religious wars was the notion that, given free reign, religion causes violence or at least exacerbates conflict. Inter-government relations and institutions, thus, became governed by non-religious norms and practices, with agencies like the diplomatic corps and the military often serving as trusty gatekeepers to check religion's influence.[3] Religion's public marginalization has extended to non-Western governments as well. In Turkey, for example, where Atatürk's vision of modernization entailed a strict program of national secularization, the military has intervened repeatedly to preserve the nation's secularist identity.
The intellectual influence of the Enlightenment, by elevating reason above matters traditionally explained by faith, also has shaped public institutions' secular character. In the Age of Reason and the modern era that followed, progress was linked to secularization, and secular institutions were the engines of that progress. In its more ideological forms, secularism has entailed strenuous efforts to limit private expressions of religious faith in public settings. Consider state laws in France and Turkey that ban wearing certain religious symbols or garments in government buildings. Or, for a milder example, observe what happens when religion enters unannounced as a topic of conversation. In military circles, I have observed conversations literally stop when religion comes up. Lips tighten and eyes shift downward, as people grow visibly uncomfortable.
But this secular narrative does not fully capture the world we live in. Some would argue that it never did. At the very least, it overlooks the highly contested place of religion in public life, both in the U.S. and abroad. Those serving in the military are uniquely positioned to appreciate the limits of secular assumptions, as they routinely operate within populaces or locations that recognize no clear line of demarcation between private individual faith and secular public life. Religiously inspired violence provides an obvious (if stereotypical) illustration. But there are countless more mundane ways that everyday citizens—in Iraq, Afghanistan, and numerous parts of the world—demonstrate that their religious ideas and allegiances are not confined to the margins of private belief.
Consider the illumining reflections of Major John Morris, an Army chaplain in the Minnesota National Guard serving in Iraq, commenting on the post-secular complexities of contemporary war:
... [T]here's a spiritual dynamic that I think often we, and I'm speaking of American military forces, fail to take into account. And it's to our demise.... We're in a war. But this is a war where you can't kill enough people to win because this has a spiritual motivation to it.... That means we have to take seriously religious leaders. We have to take seriously the religious worldview of people. We have to think that when we fire that weapon and we miss, that round goes somewhere. And when it hits somebody else that's innocent, it has a ripple effect on a culture that takes seriously life and death, clan and family. That when we search mosques, it has an impact, whether the mosque was used as an armory, which I often saw that it was, or not. There is an impact.... Do we understand their sacred rituals and rites for dealing with the dead? Do we understand the religious calendar of the area we're operating in and adhere to this? ... [W]e train military commanders to be excellent warriors ... But we don't train them about the spiritual dimension. We pay lip service to it. You know, "Hey, religion's a part of culture. You got to be aware of that." Well, that's great. But how aware are we really?[4]
As the military attempts to come to terms with its political, religious, and cultural environs, particularly in counterinsurgency and stability operations to combat religiously charged terrorism, there is (or ought to be) growing recognition that the old rules and playbooks need updating.[5] A rapid process of catch-up is now underway, and, not surprisingly, military chaplains find themselves "front and center." They are bending the ears of their commanders as they—and the military overall—negotiate significant, exciting, yet potentially treacherous new religious terrain.
U.S. Army Colonel Raymond Bingham provides an important starting place for reflection in his article "Bridging the Religious Divide," which appeared in 2006 in Parameters, the journal of the U.S. Army War College.[6] In this important essay, Bingham argues for improving the military's "religious situational awareness," contending that, "Policy makers, military leaders, and non-governmental strategic planners all benefit from understanding the influence of religion within a given region of conflict."[7] Bingham's may still be a minority view, but he is part of a growing chorus of voices who, like Morris, believe that the military's success in counterinsurgency operations depends upon knowledge of culture, including religious beliefs, actors, institutions, and practices. As Bingham makes clear, religion isn't just for chaplains anymore:
At the strategic level of war, the integration of religion remains such a nonstandard task that most military planners have difficulty knowing where to begin. But lessons learned from the ongoing conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq provide a solid start point. Our battle-hardened forces possess a wealth of knowledge and on-the-ground experience that currently shapes the training of units preparing to deploy. The Army recently instituted an enhanced cultural awareness program based on four years of combat operations in the Middle East. This program is designed to address issues concerning traditions, customs, and religion. Cultural awareness training now includes lectures by outside experts, Arabic language lessons, and recommended readings. More officers and enlisted soldiers have instituted study programs in basic Islam and local mores to prepare for nation-building duties. Redeploying commanders openly share techniques and procedures that incorporate cultural awareness into current tactics. Operational resources and funding levels have also been adjusted to provide for more linguists and active recruitment of Muslim clergy to active duty.
There is good reason to heed Bingham's counsel, and, clearly, important changes are afoot. But there is still work to be done, particularly to institutionalize more fundamental and comprehensive understanding of religion. I have argued elsewhere that if the lesson of the Vietnam War was that "winning hearts and minds" was essential to victory in counterinsurgency warfare, then an emerging corollary in the "global war on terror" may be that "getting religion" is central to winning those hearts and minds. In this sense, "cultural awareness" alone—absent a heightened appreciation for the "spiritual dynamic of war"—may be insufficient. Today's warriors, if they hope to win the hearts and minds of peoples they are protecting, may need to become more attuned to their religious lives, desires, beliefs, and pursuits—in other words, to the needs of the soul.[8]
What is the role of chaplains in this context? As figures who are religiously devout as well as knowledgeable about faith matters, they might caution us that "religious situational awareness" does not necessarily invite a consideration of why religion is of any particular or unique importance in itself. If the military examines religion only because it is believed to cause violence, then this only perpetuates the old Westphalian disposition, which overstates the threat of religion writ large even if it recognizes the very real threat of those who justify their violence by appealing to religion. Alternatively, chaplains might help us consider whether "religious situational awareness" is too easily reducible to cultural etiquette—like knowing that in certain countries you never greet someone with your left hand. That approach trivializes religion. Further, military efforts to increase religious awareness could be perceived as attempting to gain a tactical edge or to leverage religion for its strategic value. People who take religion seriously, as chaplains surely know, are sensitive to its instrumentalization. Without a deeper conceptual understanding of religion, the military's cultivation of religious knowledge or literacy will come up short. Avoiding this pitfall entails learning not simply religious facts but beliefs and values, including an appreciation of what makes religion distinctive, influential, or worthy of respect. Chaplains can be of great service here.
Let me propose another suggestion. As the military sets to enhancing the religious situational awareness of today's warriors, which it certainly should, let us not overlook the foundations of all training: education. Based upon inquiries I have made, the service academies and war colleges still have some catching up to do (as is the case with many secular institutions) to expand and integrate the study of religion into the curriculum. Education, not training, is the medium for learning about what makes something sacred, different from food, art, language, architecture, history, and other constituents of culture.[9]
Chaplains also might help service members consider how the military has its own civil religion, which may take secular form but is no less powerful or motivational for its followers than traditional religions.[10] In a post-secular age in which we are increasingly aware of how religious identity shapes human interactions and global phenomena, cultivating self-reflection and awareness about one's own religious sensibilities may be propitious before trying to leverage knowledge of other peoples' religions. Chaplains have a role here, though not at the expense of a broader enhancement of the military curriculum. The military rightly promotes and esteems the pursuit of education among its members. Education about religion (not religious education) should be integrated accordingly. Indeed, it seems indispensable to officer education in the 21st century.
Ethics and Tactics of Religious Engagement
Some will defend secular models, arguing that they have served the military well. Certainly, they limit untoward external interference in religious affairs, preserving space for faith to flourish. Secular models protect confidentiality and sustain a professional ethic that prevents discrimination, whether religious or anti-religious. These are goals that ought not to be sacrificed even (or especially) in a post-secular age.
One might argue further that, whatever the shortcomings of neglecting religious matters, the incidents and experiments in which the military has engaged religion in public settings have done more harm than good. Recall the firestorm set off by Lt. Gen. William Boykin when a video of his remarks about a Somali's religion reached beyond the church audience he was addressing.[11] His incendiary talk quickly became another log that stoked the "clash of civilizations" bonfire. The perception Boykin created mattered far more than whatever he may have meant by his comments. In an era in which a video can radiate to all corners of globe in a matter of seconds, perceptions are easily created. In turn, those perceptions create daunting new realities that the military cannot ignore.
Or, one might recall events at the U.S. Air Force Academy where dozens of complaints of religious discrimination or insensitivity were lodged between 2001 and 2005. The Air Force concluded that "some cadets had been overly aggressive in the expression of their faith, offending some and, in some cases, creating an impression of insensitivity regarding the beliefs of others." The report also noted that faculty and staff had expressed views that showed "lack of awareness that their position as instructors and government officials made these expressions inappropriate in a particular setting."[12] Wherever one comes down on this incident or the final report, the clear lesson is that those serving in the military, by virtue of its rank structure and clear chain of command, must proceed cautiously so as not to give the impression that rank or position are being used—as either incentive or deterrent—to cajole or coerce religious belief.
Finally, we might recall that as the military gains knowledge about religion, it will incur additional responsibilities. Ignorance of religion can lead to sins of omission that show disrespect. But sins of commission—where religious knowledge is manipulated to certain ends—can be far worse. Consider the charge levied by Andrew Sullivan in his reprise of the coercive interrogation/torture techniques used in Abu Ghraib:
...[U]sing Muslim prisoners' sexual phobias, taboos, and religious prohibitions against them was common. Whether smearing fake menstrual blood on a prisoner's face, or having a woman like Lynndie England mock the exposed genitals of a terrified prisoner, sexual humiliations were not violations of the techniques you [Pres. Bush] authorized. They were the techniques you authorized. And they depended for their effectiveness on the specific religious and cultural beliefs of Muslims. So to wage a war designed to expose the evil of the Taliban's religious intolerance, we deliberately manipulated Islam into a means of abuse. In a war designed to prove that the West was not Islam's enemy, we used Islam and Muslim culture as tools to break down the psyches of prisoners suspected of terrorism. To save religious freedom, we abused it.[13]
Examples like these will be enough for some to say that the military should have no part in anything containing the slightest whiff of religion. Ultimately, though, that is an untenable position, because religious belief is simply too important, too enduring, too ineradicable from the way that many human beings live to ignore. That leaves us with another option: engage the complexities of religion in ways that are attentive to the nuances, challenges, and dangers. This approach appreciates that there are real ethical challenges that must be identified, analyzed, debated, and resolved. The negative examples above make clear that it is entirely appropriate to begin by asking some critical questions: How can one expect the military to "get religion" without imposing it on others? How can the military engage—perhaps even capitalize on—the spiritual dimensions of war without cynically instrumentalizing religion?
Military chaplains can play a vital role here, but first they will have to adapt to new post-secular contexts. For traditionally, many chaplain activities—preaching in the tent chapel or ministering to service members in the chaplain's office—have preserved the secular model that keeps religion private.[14] Given their religious and military training, however, chaplains are well positioned to appreciate the difficulties of engaging the public faces of religion. In the case of the Air Force Academy controversy, it was an Academy chaplain who was perhaps most critical of the campus atmosphere. Military chaplains also are (or ought to be) keenly aware of the dangers of integrating religion into a larger military strategy—of "cashing in" on religion's currency. They are positioned, by virtue of their "dual status" as military officers and men and women of the cloth, to understand the inherent yet healthy tension of maintaining fidelity to two masters—to civil and religious sources of authority—and to resolve those tensions appropriately when they arise.
One initiative in which military chaplains recently have experienced this tension involves religious outreach in counterinsurgency operations. This growing role for chaplains is a prominent part of the military's recent "about face" and effort to take religion more seriously. In the application of religious knowledge or engagement with religious leaders, however, there is a risk of exploiting other peoples' faith as a means to U.S. foreign policy ends. Chaplains' ability to negotiate the dual realms of religious and military obligation can serve as an example to other service members involved in stability operations. Chaplains can help them appreciate the autonomy and legitimacy of these independent realms of life as well as the occasions in which they can either overlap or conflict. Along the way, chaplains can help cultivate respect for the religious values, practices, and institutions of local populaces—which is central to the counterinsurgency strategies employed in contemporary war zones.
Several recent studies discuss the role of military chaplains as religious leader liaisons.[15] The mission of "strategic religious engagement" entails communicating with local religious leaders and councils, establishing good working relations with the local communities, building trust and dispelling stereotypes between military forces and civilian populations, and contributing to active peace-building and reconstruction efforts.[16] Specific tasks range from facilitating construction projects (e.g., repairing mosques and schools) to working though culturally confusing incidents where there is a high propensity for misunderstanding.
A revealing example, reported by Commander George Adams, USN, centers around a chaplain in Iraq who helped negotiate a tense standoff between U.S. Marines who had accidentally killed two children and an understandably angry community that was rising up against them. The military chaplain was better equipped than the Marines to convey their remorse and explain the unintended nature of the tragedy. He was also able to explain how the children had been used as human shields by Saddam Hussein's Fedayeen forces, which other Iraqi eyewitnesses corroborated. The chaplain's unique religious identity—the military chaplain sometimes is perceived as a "Christian mullah"—afforded him a moral and religious legitimacy that the combatants did not enjoy. Wanting to follow through and reinforce his intentions, the chaplain then helped dig the graves for the two children. "He believed that it was important to demonstrate in a concrete way to the local people and the young marines that the U.S. military strategy genuinely cared for the Iraqi people. The chaplain did not participate in the actual burial ceremony, but he did stand by and observe the service."[17] One worries what would have happened had the chaplain not performed so admirably in this situation.
There is no reason to doubt the sincerity of this chaplain, nor does it appear there was a conflict between respecting the community's religion and serving the military properly. But surely there are skeptics who will question chaplains' roles in counterinsurgency operations. For Adams's report itself goes on to say, "inasmuch as ‘winning hearts and minds' necessitates the development of mutual understanding and respect, chaplains are valuable resources who can advance the peacebuilding process effectively."[18] There is no completely neutral or disinterested ground on which chaplains can stand. They have to negotiate the tensions that they and the rest of the military confront—and to do so in ways that show respect for believers of many faith traditions.
As advocates of expanding the religious liaison role observe, "A problematic issue about functioning as liaisons with local religious leaders is that it puts chaplains in a position that potentially could compromise their role."[19] A chief concern centers around maintaining chaplains' status as noncombatants (military personnel who do not bear arms, have no combat role and, thus, are immune from targeting). Situations that would compromise this status include intelligence collection or participation in "information operations" that are part of the larger war effort. Even sliding down this slope could risk the perception (if not the reality) that chaplains are exploiting other peoples' faith—"cashing in" on the religion currency exchange in counterinsurgency military operations.
Fortunately, chaplains have resources for negotiating this tension, both professionally and theologically. As ordained clergy and military officers, chaplains are bound to both the religious and civil oaths they take. Chaplains from all of the services recently have convened to spell out service-wide and joint (inter-service) policies for negotiating these competing allegiances. These directives help chaplains balance their various roles and the religious, civil, and moral claims made upon them. More importantly, military services accommodate and even reinforce the autonomy of chaplains' own theological traditions and the prerogatives within them that inform their calling. In short, the military recognizes that religion can make a higher claim upon the conscience.
This professional ethic is reinforced by theological reasoning as well. An example from the New Testament contains lessons which, I venture, are sufficiently accessible to those of other faith traditions. The story of Caesar's coin makes clear the challenges of trading on the religious exchange. Recall that Jesus, upon instructing the chief priests to show him a denarius, asks,
"Whose portrait is this? And whose inscription?"
"Caesar's," they replied.
Then Jesus said to them, "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's." (Mark 12: 15-17)
The passage speaks to the Christian's "dual standing," as citizen of this world, responsible to the polity to which one belongs yet whose ultimate allegiance references a divine "city" or authority not reducible to this world. The matter of how these dual allegiances are worked out, in practical terms, is not always self-evident or uncontested. But the broader point is that religious commitment entails burden and blessing, including challenges and opportunities for fulfilling civic stations in life in ways that are faithful to, even leavened by, religious beliefs and ethical ideals. Independent of their roles as religious leader liaisons, military chaplains understand the tension of preserving their own dual status—of standing Caesar's coin on its edge, if you will. They also grasp that when this cannot be done—when the chips are down and their competing roles cannot be reconciled—the higher calling trumps out. In such circumstances, they ultimately may be forced to return the coin to Caesar's official—or to their military commander—saying, "Only this can I offer, but that I cannot do."
Of course, the lesson of Caesar's coin extends not only to military chaplains but to all who believe that a higher law—moral, religious, or spiritual—binds one's conscience and governs the actions one carries out on behalf of the nation. In wartime, chaplains play an indispensable role reminding others of the importance, difficulty, and sometimes tragic dimension of preserving their dual allegiances. Chaplains, though, cannot be the only ones for whom this moral-religious parable has meaning.
The Warrior's Inner War
In spite of chaplains' expanding responsibilities in today's wars, their most essential role remains ministering to the souls of men and women whose nation sends them to zones of death where they are compelled to injure or kill other human beings, to experience up close the deaths of comrades, and sometimes to be injured or killed themselves. While many cognitively understand the awful reality of war, it rarely is at the right level. Chaplains exist to remind us of, and prepare us to respond to, the human costs of war. As Chaplain Morris affirms,
[W]e don't do anybody any service couching war in any language other than war language. I call it tricking soldiers into killing people. If we mask this language, we set them up to be further damaged because they're not mentally prepared for the horrible job we're giving them to do....and we're underestimating the impact it will have on those that we're sending there and then on their families when they return.[20]
So, we must ask: How will chaplains' expanding duties, such as their liaison work with local religious leaders, impact their traditional responsibilities to minister to those in uniform who most deeply experience the trauma of war?
The spiritual dimensions of war are neither new nor limited to wars in places where religion has a prominent public dimension. The spiritual dimension also includes the inner wars that warriors fight within themselves. In his powerful classic The Warriors, J. Glenn Gray describes how the "ache of guilt" awakens the conscience, often providing one's first awareness of this inner self. The conscience asks a question or makes a demand on the self—generally after the fact, when it is too late: "Why did you do this? Why did you not do that?" Guilt is the inner self's response that the answers to such questions are not morally satisfactory.
Lieutenant Calley, the officer convicted for ordering the 1968 massacre at My Lai, discussed his ache of guilt in a small gathering earlier this year. With emotion in his voice, he confessed, "There is not a day that goes by that I do not feel remorse for what happened that day in My Lai. I feel remorse for the Vietnamese who were killed, for their families, for the American soldiers involved and their families. I am very sorry."[21] If only he had uttered these words publicly and earlier on, it would have done credit to acknowledging his call of conscience. Instead, for many, his actions and silence epitomized the Vietnam War.
Not all inner wars are resolved this way. Consider an account by Captain Arnold Resnicoff, a distinguished Navy chaplain who, before becoming a rabbi, was a surface warfare officer.
When I served in the rivers of Vietnam, there was an incident which touched my life forever. The Captain of my ship stood two officers up against the wall, officers whose actions, while involving no risk to human life, had raised questions about our standards and our values. He told them, in no uncertain terms, that so long as he was in command we would understand that we were fighting two wars, not just one. The first was against the "enemy without," in our case, the Viet Cong. That war, he said, would be fought with all our strength. But, he said, we would fight as well the war against the "enemy within": the potential within us to turn us into animals, the threat within our own hearts which could do us more damage than all the enemies in uniform we might have to face.[22]
The actions drawing the captain's ire, I learned later, involved a crew who had tied to their patrol boat, as a kind of trophy, the body of a dead Viet Cong. One can understand the rage and grief they must have felt toward this enemy responsible for earlier killing several other members of their crew. But clearly they were not listening for the call of conscience. It was not a chaplain but the ship's captain who insisted they hear that call.
At their best, chaplains can help military personnel connect with their conscience to prevent such incidents. And when they do occur, they can listen for the ache of guilt that follows. Chaplains invite us to look inward to the soul. As Rabbi Resnicoff understands, "The horrors of the battlefield can strengthen the animal within, and paralyze those feelings that keep humanity alive. Violence and war affect both inclinations for the good and for the bad. They numb the first; they feed the second."[23] Chaplains have an indispensable role in helping warriors fight and win the wars within. Yet, their success ultimately depends on the commitments of others—including military leaders—to help wage these spiritual battles.
These vignettes bring to life the musings of St. Augustine some 1,600 years ago: "What is the evil in war? Is it the death of some who will soon die in any case, that others may live in peaceful subjection?" To modern readers, this rings of indifference to the horrors and atrocities of war. But Augustine goes on to make clear that he is describing Chaplain Resnicoff's notion of the enemy within. "The real evils in war," Augustine says, "are love of violence, revengeful cruelty, fierce and implacable enmity, wild resistance, and the lust of power and the like..."[24] Augustine's counsel warrants our heed, for the temptations of war span the ages and lure even the most virtuous among us.
Vietnam too often serves as the unfortunate example of immoral conduct during war. But we must recall that the inner battles of the soul are found in every war. In his semi-autobiographical account of the "ache of guilt," J. Glenn Gray reminds those who recall World War II as the "good war" of the grisly dealings in which he—perhaps the most morally reflective soldier in modern history, with a Ph.D. in philosophy from Columbia University—participated. Consider also an example from Chaplain Morris's deployment in Iraq in which he describes spiraling into an "abyss of hate in Fallujah," following the massacres of four Americans whose charred remains were strewn over a bridge. Knowing that members of the local community were harboring the perpetrators of these acts, he began to cross a line in the sand in his own soul:
I found myself fueled with a sense of hatred that I could easily have said, you know, "Hey, I'm God's wrath. We are God's wrath. This [situation in Fallujah] needs to be taken care of." The only thing that pulled me back from that was the power of the Holy Spirit, all the Christian disciplines, and my sense of understanding that, wait a minute, as much as I abhor everything that's [been] done, and as much as I believe what was done was evil, and that if these people don't come out and surrender, there's only one alternative, that is to go in and kill them or apprehend them. I knew I could not cross that line and say, "OK, God's on my side, and here we go." No, this is chaos, this is human fallenness to the max, and we're using the most brutal tool of human society, the military, to solve a very, very terrible problem. And this isn't God here, this is fallen human beings. So God help me and have mercy on me [that] I'm a part of something like this, and I prayed that it wouldn't be, but here we are. Save me from becoming a debased, immoral human being. And save my soldiers as well.[25]
Morris's reflections remind us that chaplains, too, face the enemy within. They must confront their own demons as they help their flock confront theirs.
Whatever value military chaplains may play in winning hearts and minds in stability operations, they cannot overlook their fundamental responsibility to help "save the souls" of today's warriors. This does not mean converting unbelievers. Nor does it mean merely consoling those afflicted with guilt. Often consolation has entailed simply reassuring individuals that their actions were justifiable and their guilt is unwarranted. Military psychologists have even treated guilt as an emotional obstacle that warriors must bypass or overcome so they can clear their consciences and return effectively to the battle.[26]
Chaplains, rather, should have a different task: to help warriors preserve their humanity. Regardless of faith or religion, there is a soul—a moral interior—within each warrior that can be awakened by the nobility of our humanity or by the sadism of our inhumanity (and war puts both on display). Chaplains can make the warrior aware of this inner self. They can help clarify Gray's understanding of personal guilt for individual wrongdoing, such as Lt. Calley's war crimes. Working with combatant leaders, they can help warriors understand, in Gray's words, "that there is a line that a man dare not cross, deeds he dare not commit, regardless of orders and the hopelessness of the situation, for such deeds would destroy something in him that he values more than life itself."[27] When the fighting ends, chaplains can hear the confessions of those who, hearing the voice within, discover they have enjoyed war too much.
Chaplains also can help warriors come to terms with collective and metaphysical guilt. Collective guilt stems from actions that their nation forces them to commit in war, however justifiable, noble, and heroic their individual conduct may be. Metaphysical guilt, as Gray pithily puts it, is cognizance of "our failure as human beings to live in accordance with our potentialities and our vision of the good." It is an affliction that comes from participating in the "human fallenness" of war writ large, to borrow Chaplain Morris's locution.[28] Many warriors find the shame and alienation of metaphysical guilt the most difficult to confront. For Gray, the proper response is atonement: "a life devoted to strengthening the bonds between men and between men and nature."[29]
The Post-secular Chaplain
Secular approaches to religion and the military traditionally locate chaplain responsibilities with respect to personal or private dimensions of faith. The public prominence of military chaplains conducting religious engagement in stability operations challenges this secular approach, while chaplains' focus on the inner soul or moral interior of the individual warrior seems to reinforce it. I want to close, however, by noting how the ostensibly private spiritual dimensions of war bear directly upon public affairs. For the clearest illustration of this facet of our post-secular age, think back to those images of military prison guards at Abu Ghraib who gleefully mugged for the camera as they abused Iraqi detainees. The abuses were awful enough in their own right, but the attitude of delight displayed in those pictures betrayed inner dispositions that not only contributed to these crimes but exacted the worst kind of harm—the "real evils" that war stirs up: "love of violence, revengeful cruelty, fierce and implacable enmity, wild resistance."
The chaplain whose charge it was to minister to those delighting in the abuse of others must have shuddered upon seeing those pictures. (Officers working at Abu Ghraib should have shuddered too.) For no matter what other duties today's military chaplains take on, a foremost charge must always be to help warriors internalize General Lee's famous dictum—that war's horrors should serve to deter us not spur us. And clearly, those lost souls working in Iraq's dungeon had grown too fond of war.
Those digital images of the distorted soul (curvatus in se) were beamed across the internet and bestrewn across newspapers around the world. They did grievous harm to the U.S. war effort and showed that the moral interior of the soul is no less important than exterior conformance to the laws of war. In an era of global media and real-time communications, when the dispositions of those in the military are routinely captured on film, there is no way to regulate every warrior's conduct from the top down. Military leaders, with the help of chaplains, must recognize the need to legislate from within; such moral formation of the soul involves shaping warriors' inner dispositions, educating and training them to be morally self-reflective.
Nor can we take consolation in the "bad apples" defense, for there are other empirical reasons to worry. A 2006 report of the Mental Health Advisory Team surveying "battlefield ethics" of Army soldiers and Marines serving in Iraq turned up some alarming statistics. Of those interviewed, less than half (between 38 and 47 percent depending on the service) reported that "all non-combatants should be treated with dignity and respect." Over 40 percent believed that "torture should be allowed if it will save the life of a Soldier/Marine." A full 17 percent believed that all non-combatants should be treated as insurgents.[30] Only between 30 and 55 percent said they would report a fellow Soldier or Marine for, variously, injuring or killing an innocent non-combatant, mistreating or stealing from a non-combatant, or needlessly destroying private property. All of these actions constitute war crimes. Interestingly, a surprisingly high number (over 80 percent) reported they had received training about the proper treatment of non-combatants. These responses to hypothetical survey questions make no claim to correlate to actual crimes committed. What this study suggests is that, apart from actual violations of rules of war, there is much work to be done cultivating the proper attitudes among today's warriors—particularly in counterinsurgency operations where winning hearts and minds is vital.
There is a final bit of evidence of the post-secular connection between the inner self and the public realm. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan entail particularly grueling and arduous conditions. Few who have not experienced the brutalities of losing comrades in arms, of being severely injured, of being involved in the accidental deaths of innocents or even the intentional killing of insurgents can fully understand the tolls that wars take on the psyche. The societal implications of this collective trauma are growing even if they impact a relative minority of the U.S. population. It is for this reason that the military is undertaking significant efforts that prod soldiers and their families to understand their emotions and take stock of their combat experiences. Returning warrior workshops and service-wide training in "emotional resiliency"[31] are among a few of the initiatives designed to respond to post-traumatic stress disorder and other afflictions of war experienced upon returning home. What is telling about many of these programs is their reactive nature.
This raises an important question: What are we doing to prepare our warriors for the horrors they will face or even be forced to carry out on behalf of their fellow citizens? Chaplain Morris's testimony suggests that chaplains have a key role to play here, not only ministering to those in combat but helping to institutionalize the kind of self-reflection that shapes warriors' inner dispositions and arouses the voice of conscience within. For, it is the deeds or misdeeds they carry out—and their attitudes toward them—that shape a war's final outcome, to say nothing of the inner wars that endure long after.
Military chaplains are (or ought to be) uniquely attentive to these spiritual concerns. Perhaps the most daunting task they face is convincing the commanders, officers, and enlisted personnel they serve that these are not simply "chaplain problems" in need of chaplain solutions. Religion and the spiritual dimensions of war significantly implicate the entire military. Chaplains will need the proactive involvement of military leaders—particularly at the unit level where tactical battles are waged and inner wars are won and lost—to promote broader awareness of the many spiritual dimensions of contemporary war.
[1] I am grateful to William LeMaire for his invaluable research assistance on this article. Portions of this article also draw on my "Winning Souls and Minds: The Military's Religion Problem and the Global War on Terror," Journal of Military Ethics 7, no. 2 (2008): 85-101.
[2] The word "secular" derives from the Latin word saeculum, referring to the affairs of this age, as distinct from another eschatological age. Church historian Robert Markus describes the secular as a third domain, encompassing things that are neither sacred (i.e., tantamount to religious beliefs, institutions, and practices) nor profane (i.e., hostile to religion) but of common concern to Christians and non-Christians alike. See his Christianity and the Secular (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2006), 4-7.
[3] Madeline Albright, The Mighty and the Almighty: Reflections on America, God, and World Affairs (New York: HarperCollins, 2006); Thomas F. Farr, World of Faith and Freedom: Why International Religious Liberty Is Vital to American National Security (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008); Douglas M. Johnston, "Religion and the Global War on Terrorism," Journal of Religion, Conflict, and Peace (Fall, 2007), http://www.plowsharesproject.org/journal/php/essay.php?issu_list_id=8&essay_ list_id=12 (accessed April 21, 2008).
[4] From "The Soul of War," Speaking of Faith, May 24, 2007, available at http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/soulofwar/transcript.shtml (accessed September 20, 2009).
[5] See The U.S. Army/Marine Corps Counterinsurgency Field Manual (University of Chicago Press, 2007).
[6] Raymond L. Bingham, "Bridging the Religious Divide," Parameters 36, no. 3 (Autumn, 2006): 50-66.
[7] Ibid., 55.
[8] See my "Winning Souls and Minds."
[9] Of course, religions always operate within, not beyond cultures, so it is not always easy to distinguish them. But given the moral authority that religion often wields (that culture often does not), attention to that distinction remains important.
[10] Again, see my "Winning Souls and Minds."
[11] Boykin recalled his reply to a Somali warlord who said that Allah would protect him from being captured by Americans, "I knew that my God was bigger than his. I knew that my God was a real God and his was an idol." See Rebecca Leung, "The Holy Warrior," September 15, 2004, http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2004/09/15/60II/main643650.shtml (accessed October 1, 2009).
[12] Doug Lederman, "Report Finds No Religious Bias at Air Force Academy," Inside Higer Ed, June, 23, 2005, http://www.insidehighereducation.com/news/2005/06/23/airforce (accessed October 1, 2009).
[13] Andrew Sullivan, "Dear President Bush," An open letter, Atlantic Monthly 304:3 (October 2009), 84.
[14] Military chaplains, of course, do have public roles, often giving prayers and benedictions during military ceremonies. Controversy has surrounded this practice and the effort to reconcile the beliefs of the chaplain's own faith tradition with those of the religiously diverse audience being addressed. See Grace Kao, "Mission Impossible: ‘Nonsectarian' Prayer in the Military Chaplaincy," Journal of Political Theology (forthcoming).
[15] CDR George Adams, CHC, USN, "Chaplains as Liaisons with Religious Leaders: Lessons from Iraq and Afghanistan" (Washington, DC: U.S. Institute of Peace, March, 2006); Col. William Sean Lee ARNG, Lt Col. Christopher Burke, USAF, and Lt. Col Zonna M. Crayne, ANG, "Military Chaplains as Peace Builders: Embracing Indigenous Religions in Stability Operations," Air Force Fellows Research Report, Air University, Maxwell Air Force Base, April, 2004; LTC Ira Houck, USA, "The U.S. Army Chaplaincy's Involvement in Strategic Religious Engagement," The Army Chaplaincy (Winter-Spring 2009), 49-53.
[16] Those involved in these studies or serving as religious liaisons are quick to point out that military chaplains have filled these shoes before. What seems distinctive about this renewed initiative in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan is the sense of exigency and necessity.
[17] Adams, 5.
[18] Ibid., 9.
[19] Ibid., 15.
[20] "The Soul of War."
[21] Robert Mackey, "An Apology for My Lai, Four Decades Later," The New York Times News Blog, August 24, 2009.
[22] Arnold Resnicoff, "Jewish Views of War and Peace," Proceedings of the Rabbinical Assembly 51 (1989), 262.
[23] Ibid., 261.
[24] Augustine, Contra Faustum XXII, 74 in Henry Paolucci, ed., The Political Writings of St. Augustine (South Bend, IN: Regnery/Gateway, 1962), 164.
[25] "The Soul of War."
[26] Bernard Verkamp, The Moral Treatment of Returning Warriors in Early Medieval and Modern Times (Scranton, PA: University of Scranton Press, 2006 [1993]).
[27] J. Glenn Gray, The Warriors: Reflections on Men in Battle (New York: Harper & Row, 1967 [1959]), 186.
[28] Ibid., 207.
[29] Ibid., 211.
[30] Mental Health Advisory Team (MHAT) IV, Final Report on Operation Iraqi Freedom 05-07, November 17, 2006, p. 35.
[31] Benedict Carey, "Mental Stress Training Is Planned for U.S. Soldiers" New York Times, August 18, 2009.