| Home | Sometimes You Have to Fight: A Chesteronian Perspective by Dale Ahlquist Don’t ask me what I think of the war. I’ll tell you anyway. I won’t tell you what you want to hear. I won’t tell you whether I am for or against it. I will tell you only that I think the same way G. K. Chesterton thinks about the war. Which war? Any war. I refer to his position because, curiously enough, it coincides with the Catholic Church’s position. We all know all the arguments against killing. And even against fighting. The Bible is pretty clear. Thou shall not kill. If your enemy strikes you on one cheek, offer him the other as well. Blessed are the peacemakers. The harvest of justice is sown in peace by those who make peace. (Haven’t heard that last one? It’s James 3:18. The following verses explain why wars begin. Look it up.) Chesterton says that no one has to be reminded that war is horrible and should be avoided. But is there any justifiable reason to go to war? “The only defensible war,” answers Chesterton, “is a war of defense.” Sometimes the sad truth is that the only way to stop a war is to fight it. Sometimes the only way to stop the fighting is to fight. Sometimes the only way to end a war is to win it. But only as an act of defense, not of aggression. The soldier fights, says Chesterton, not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. A man is sworn to protect his wife and family. He must protect the place of the family, which is the home. When men fight to protect their homes, they fight valiantly and fiercely. When men fight to take another man’s home, they fight coldly and cowardly, preying on the weak and destroying what is good only for the sake of destruction. The devil cannot create; he can only destroy. Chesterton illustrates the point about “the twin elements of loving and fighting” in his marvelous explanation of romantic fiction. Every story must have three characters. Chesterton identifies them as St. George and the Dragon and the Princess: “there must be the Princess, who is a thing to be loved; there must be the Dragon, who is a thing to be fought; and there must be St. George, who is a thing that both loves and fights.” All the modern philosophies have tried to do away with this paradox either by substituting fighting for loving, like Nietzsche, or substituting loving for fighting, like Tolstoy. But fighting and loving actually go together; “the two things imply each other,” says Chesterton. “You cannot love a thing without wanting to fight for it. You cannot fight without something to fight for. To love a thing without wishing to fight for it is not love at all; it is lust. It may be an airy, philosophical, and disinterested lust; it may be, so to speak, a virgin lust; but it is lust, because it is wholly self-indulgent and invites no attack. On the other hand, fighting for a thing without loving it is not even fighting; it can only be called a kind of horse-play that is occasionally fatal.” Thus, according to Chesterton, there is a “natural kinship between war and wooing.” Truth is always an amazing balancing act. Balance is the key to beauty, to sanity, to justice. If we lean too far in one direction or the other, we lose our balance. Thus, both militarism and pacificism represent a loss of balance. Militarism is simply bullyism, the Strong having their own way. Pacifism is a lack of loyalty, a promise not to defend the innocent, the helpless, the defenseless. Both can be considered cowardly. There is no bravery in being a bully. There is no bravery in refusing to stand up to an enemy. The Church has always had to maintain the precarious balance of truth, whether in war or in anything else. There were times when the Church clearly supported war, and if it had not, we would all be speaking Arabic right now. There were other times, sometimes surprising, when the Church not only did not support a war, but did not support one side or the other in the conflict. Chesterton’s image from Orthodoxy is striking regarding the Church’s ability throughout history to maintain its balance, with “the wild truth reeling but erect.” Chesterton makes another important argument about the Church’s historical position with regard to war and fighting. It has to do with the sword. For Chesterton the sword is an important symbol of Christianity. It is not only in the shape of a cross, it is the scriptural symbol of truth, which cuts both ways (because error comes from opposite sides). Chesterton said he also liked swords because “they come to a point,” unlike most modern art and philosophy. The sword, of course, is also connected to knighthood and chivalry. Perhaps Chesterton’s most interesting point is that with the rise of chivalry, starting in the early middle ages, came the rise in the cult of the Virgin Mary. There is a connection. The protection of womanhood and the adoration of the most perfect woman go hand-in-hand. This was accompanied by the rise of Western Civilization itself, which had to fight a war against barbarians who did not have the same respect for womanhood. They fought with lust, whereas Christendom fought with love. The danger of fighting well is that you win. The danger of being prepared to fight is that you become powerful. The danger of power is that you become corrupt. Chesterton says there are three stages in the life of any great power. First it is a small power and fights small powers. Then it is a great power and fights great powers. Then it is a great power and it fights small powers... but pretends that they are great powers. Interesting. But, like I said, I’m not going to tell you what I think of the war. Only to say this: When the strong is bad it must be opposed. When the strong is good, its greatest strength must be restraint. Dale Ahlquist is the President of the American Chesterton Society and the host of EWTN’s “G.K. Chesterton—The Apostle of Common Sense.” His latest book is Common Sense 101: Lessons from G. K. Chesterton (Ignatius 2006). To read more great articles from CMQ and to subscribe click here... |
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