Mary KennyTheologians ever since Aquinas have pondered on the case for the ‘Just War’.
With all the focus recently on the centenary anniversary of the 1914-18 war, and with all the distressful reports about the pitiful victims of conflict all over the Middle East, the case for pacifism has seldom been more compelling. Doesn’t everyone agree that war is hell and should always be avoided?
Everyone with experience of war knows war involves terrible suffering – and brutality. War nearly always demeans men (and it is men who have been the main combatants). Siegfried Sassoon, that most perceptive, and sensitive, war poet has a terrible phrase about that: “Men fought like brutes/Hideous things were done.”
And the horrors that the Black and Tans inflicted on Ireland can only be understood by learning that they were nearly all veterans of the Western Front in the Great War. They had been, literally, brutalised by the experience, and seven shillings a day on the Irish assignment was one way of coping with what they had seen, and done. In his magisterial account of Ireland after 1918, The Victory of Sinn Fein, P.S. O’Hegarty described this process of brutalisation with insight and lucidity.
And yet, theologians ever since Thomas Aquinas have pondered on the case for the ‘Just War’. Aquinas’ conditions were very sensible, and are relevant to this day (he certainly would not have approved of bombardments of civilians). He does all he can to minimise war, but by no means does he rule out war as a morally justifiable course of action when all conditions are met.
Pacifism is admirable, as are those conscientious objectors who refuse to take up arms, as a principle. In the First World War, many of the “conchies”, as they were disparagingly known, were Christians, and they were given a hard time for their stand – especially, regrettably, by women who served any man not fighting with the white feathers of cowardice.
But peace at any cost can lead down the wrong path too. There were up to 40 organisations in Britain, in 1938-39, who were committed to a “peace policy”, which meant appeasement of Hitler (and Stalin too).
In France, in 1940, people felt so horrified by impact of the Great War that anything seemed preferable to another conflict. But in the end, they had to take up arms in their own defence.
War is terrible. But it is not always morally wrong, and it sometimes becomes an imperative. What we need are wise leaders who know what is both right and practical.
After all, Aquinas said that one of the conditions of a ‘Just War’ is that “there is a reasonable chance of winning”.
Wasting water in power showers
Water bills are obviously a hardship for many families, and Irish Water doesnít come across in an especially warm light: 29 of their staff on salaries of over €100,000, plus bonuses, seems somewhat eye-watering to those footing the bill.
All the same, I believe that many people wash too much nowadays. Two-thirds of the populace have "power showers" daily, which use 175 litres of water (ordinary showers use about 49 litres). Granted, the power-shower is pleasant and relaxing, but surely not necessarily daily.
I use a trickle shower, and honestly, once every two or three days seems quite sufficient – and no one has yet complained of body odour.
Granted, people differ in their sweat glands, and in their exertions too, so some individuals may require more washing than others, so I wouldnít want to suggest that this should be the norm. But neither is the practice of taking three showers a day, as some folk do.
It was recorded that Queen Elizabeth I, the Tudor monarch, took just one bath a year "whether she needed it or not". That sounds just about right for me too.
Sadness behind the laughter
The death of the gifted comedy actor Robin Williams, aged 63 – apparently by his own hand – has been linked to his depression, and to problems with drink and drugs.
It is always desperately sad when someone dies by suicide, but the "clown with the broken heart" has a long pedigree.
Back in the Victorian period, it was recounted that a man consulted a physician about his afflictions of melancholy. "Oh, cheer yourself up," said the doc. "Go and do something that will make you laugh. Go and see the famous clown Grimaldi. He makes everyone smile."
The man replied: "I am Grimaldi."
Solidarity with persecuted Christian minorities
I remain puzzled that Irish charities like Trócaire seem so vocal on behalf of Palestinian victims of war, but so reserved about the plight of Christians and other minorities under attack by Islamic State. Yes, the Palestinian victims – especially the children – deserve all our sympathy. But don't we have a duty of solidarity to the Christians in Iraq and Syria?