A tough question for 21st
century Catholics.
On this 75th anniversary of the landings at Normandy, I am reflecting on comments made by a reader following my last CrossCurrents posting, about the fire at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, which also included my comments about Armistice day as it has been observed in Europe, and my dissatisfaction with the way the date is observed in the United States. In response I got this comment:
“Would that WWI had truly been the "war to end
all wars." Each year, I, too, recognize the historic moment, 11-11-11, and
would much prefer that world peace had prevailed since then.
At the same time, I believe that those brave souls who
"visited" France on 6-6-44, via the beaches at Normandy, or who
parachuted onto French soil behind enemy lines
deserve our respect for their service, not necessarily "praise as
warriors." If not for their selfless courage, might not Hitler and his
Nazis have had their way....and what then, of Notre Dame Cathedral?”
For me this comment raises an
important question: how should we, as Catholics and Christians, regard those
who have served in the military? The
question is important because the answer is complex and reveals a contrast
between Christian identity and national identity.
My own reflections are personal
because they are rooted in both my faith in my family. My father and five of his brothers served in
WWII. A sixth brother served in Korea,
and a seventh - - the youngest--died during active service in the US
marines. Their only sister was also married
to a WWII veteran.
Do I recognize that many
serving in WWII sacrificed a great deal, and even life itself, for their
country? Yes, of course! But then the matter is more complex than
that.
In my previous blog I
mentioned attending Armistice Day services in Paris when I was a student. On November 11, 2010 I also attended services
in Chartres, as part of a reunion group.
We arrived on the train and immediately, next to the station, we came
across found a small ceremony at a WWI memorial. Some texts were read, a wreath was laid, and
then one man - - an elderly war veteran--stepped forward and spoke. He said this day mattered to remind us that
the men who died in WWI could only be honored if we commit to ending war. He said their sacrifice proved, as he too had
learned in combat, that “the barbarism of war is an unacceptable way to resolve
conflict.” He implored all of us to take that message with us.
I have not often heard an American
veteran deliver this kind of speech on Veterans Day. And it seemed to me that his point was worth
repeating: those who die in any war die in vain unless we overcome war itself. If not, their sacrifice only brings us brief
respite before the next war begins. I
say “brief,” since the U.S. has not had a generation without war in more than
120 years.
I suspect that French veteran
would recognize that sometimes war is a necessary evil. This acknowledges, just
like the Catholic “just war theory,” that war is always evil, but sometimes
unavoidable. Yet since WWII, our nation has engaged in many “wars of choice”—conflicts
engaged, not in self-defense (although that has usually been the pretext) but
to serve other men’s goals.
And the just war theory also
demands that, even when war is unavoidable, its conduct must also meet certain
moral standards. We often think of World
War Two as “the good war,” but of course the reality was more complex than
that.
Did the men who landed on
Omaha Beach display uncommon courage and sacrifice? Yes--but we must recall that not all who
served in WWII were on the beaches of Normandy.
In any war, those who serve
have missions—and we should never confuse their service or their sacrifice with
the mission they perform. The men on the Normandy Beaches were sent to fight a
well-armed and fortified occupying army that had invaded France. But not all in
WWII had such honorable missions. Some who served were sent to firebomb Dresden,
killing tens of thousands of terrified civilians. Some were sent to firebomb
Tokyo, killing even more civilians. Some were sent to drop the A-Bomb on Hiroshima,
and others were sent to drop it on Nagasaki. More than 100,000 civilians were
killed in minutes, and countless more died over the following years. All soldiers
serve their country, but not all missions are equal.
During one parish meeting
after 9/11 an older man approached me during the break. He had served on an
unnamed Pacific island in WWII. When it was time for his company to move out,
the commander gathered all the prisoners of war they were holding and ordered
this man and his mates to shoot them. And this man and his mates shot them. All
of them. All dead. In cold blood. By 2001 this man, now in his 80s, had long
realized his guilt would haunt him to his grave.
Yet we like to think of World
War Two as the “good war.” If that is our idea of good, then the realities
about Korea, and Vietnam, and Iraq, and Afghanistan are even more morally
fraught.
Those who serve in the
military serve policies made by other men, usually older men (and now sometimes
women). They must obey orders that come
from others. Some soldiers may kill, or
be killed, in ways we can justify. Others end up committing crimes against
humanity.
Whatever the case, the
soldiers have this in common: they are cogs in the machine of war. They do what
others want—and often those others want evil things. Even many who survive never really recover. My
WWII parishioner never did, and two of my family members suffered permanently
from Vietnam. Many veterans now with PTSD suffer pain that is mainly, not physical
or psychological, but moral.
So while I recognize we can honor
the sacrifice of those who served in the military, for me that honoring is
always with a remorseful, even mournful spirit.
For me, this is never a matter for marching bands, cheering, applause,
and flyovers. “Taps” for the deceased and a silent salute for the survivors
seem better to me.
Recognizing the sacrifices of
D-Day is perfectly reasonable, especially on the 75th anniversary of
the landings. But we dishonor the heroes
of that day if we pretend that all other soldiers were equally courageous, that
all others performed with equal honor, or even that all others were heroes.
One of the tragedies of our time
is that thousands of Americans have died or been maimed or traumatized while
serving their country under the pretense that they were protecting our freedom
when in fact, in a case like the invasion of Iraq, no threat to our freedom
even existed.
Such people served their
country, often at great cost, and they deserve our respect. But if we pretend
that we benefited from their service, if we pretend they protected us from some
phony evil, if we pretend that those who died did not die in vain, then we
blind ourselves to the reality that if war is sometimes a necessary evil, more often
it is an unnecessary evil. Victory does not justify such deaths; in the
long run, the real enemy is war itself.
This was the lesson of the original
Armistice Day. World War One ended on “The
11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month”
in 1918 because Maréchal Ferdinand Foch, the Supreme Allied Commander, chose
the feast of Saint Martin of Tours, a soldier who resigned to become the patron
saint of the poor and of peace. His
feast is about repenting wars, not praising its heroics.
It is right and just that we
honor the soldiers who fought on D-Day, and especially good if we do it by
memorializing their sacrifice with gratitude but also with remorse that their
sacrifice was ever necessary. But we also mourn the sacrifice of those many
soldiers serving in “wars of choice,” whose sacrifice was never necessary.
We Catholics are taught to
hate the sin, but love the sinner. So even as we honor these people, we hate
what they were made to do in our name.
© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2019
