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Gaza
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8 min read

How redemptive justice could be a way out of a long and costly war

Dynamics of shame, dis-honour and vengeance swirl around the decision makers in the Israel-Hamas war. Steven Firmin explores how redemptive justice could restore a relationship of peace.

Steven Firmin is a lecturer in Christian Ethics at the University of Oxford. His research interests include the interaction of Christian and Muslim political thought.

An army general in green fatigues stands and address a group of soldiers sitting, squatting and standing around him
Israeli Chief of the General Staff Herzi Halevi addresses troops.

The horrific, indiscriminate attacks against Israel by Hamas terrorists have brought the larger Israel-Palestine conflict back to centre stage in international politics. The event has been called “Israel’s 9/11”, and senior Israeli political and military officials have vowed to “exact a price that will be remembered by [Hamas], and Israel’s other enemies, for decades to come.” , and to turn Gaza into a “city of tents”. Israel has begun bombarding thousands of Hamas targets and preparing for a ground invasion in Gaza.  

The die thus seems to be cast for a long and costly war which may not ultimately be able to achieve its aims, and that will halt or reverse any progress towards a resolution of the Israel-Palestine conflict in at least two ways. 

Much more important is that fair-minded Palestinians and their supporters in the wider Arab and western world are also able to understand Israel’s military actions as fitting and discriminate. 

First, the trauma resulting from a large-scale Israeli air and ground campaign in Gaza will be enormous for Palestinians. This trauma will almost certainly be the seedbed of resentment which gives the next generation of Gazans sufficient reason to hate Israel and work for its demise. Indeed, if the tragedy of October 7 is Israel’s “9/11” then it is imperative that Israel not neglect the difficult lesson the US learned through its “war on terror”: when you punish terrorists in a manner that destabilizes and alienates the wider population of a region, you merely create more terrorists. This is not to say that responding to Hamas’ attacks with military force is unjust. Military action should form part of a just response to Hamas’ actions. But this military action needs to be conducted carefully. Any military judgement must be done in such a way that not only Israelis and sympathetic westerners see it as a rightful judgement on Hamas. Much more important is that fair-minded Palestinians and their supporters in the wider Arab and western world are also able to understand Israel’s military actions as fitting and discriminate. This would require Israel, at minimum, to go to extraordinary lengths to minimize civilian casualties, even to the point of significantly increasing risks to Israeli soldiers.  

In the recent past, however, and perhaps also now, Israel’s military strategy, known as the ‘Dahiya Doctrine’ has geared in the opposite direction: it deliberately strikes back at enemy targets in a disproportional manner, in an effort to deter the enemy from further aggression. And when it faces a choice between increasing risks to Israeli soldiers or civilian populations, it often chooses the latter. If that strategy continues to play itself out in a drawn-out air and land campaign, any short-term military victory will only result in long-term creation of new and more determined enemies of Israel.   

A long and costly ground war against Hamas will only make things worse for Israelis and Palestinians. 

Second, Israel’s pursuit of a war against Hamas makes it all but impossible for the wider Arab world to pursue normalization of ties with Israel. Prior to Israel’s declaration of war, a fresh start was within reach. The 2020 Abraham Accords normalized ties between Israel and Bahrain, Morocco, and the United Arab Emirates, and this year an historic, US-brokered deal between Israel and Saudi-Arabia was well on its way to being agreed. Now, the Israel-Saudi deal is in tatters, and other Arab countries with diplomatic ties to Israel are feeling political pressure to show distance. This pressure is not arising because any of these Arab countries support Hamas. All are opposed to its Islamist ideology. It is because they are tied by bonds of affection and loyalty to the Palestinian people, and these bonds prevent Arab countries from negotiating in good faith with Israel when they have serious doubts that Israel’s military actions are making sufficient provision for the welfare of ordinary Palestinians.  

A long and costly ground war against Hamas will only make things worse for Israelis and Palestinians. But what would make things better? Rather than a vengeful justice, Israel might consider pursuing what is called ‘redemptive justice’ in its war against Hamas.  

This kind of justice is exactly the path Jesus urges his followers to follow in his Sermon on the Mount: 

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist by evil means. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.  

The teaching here about retaliation has three parts. 

First, Jesus presents a traditional teaching from the Mosaic law, sometimes called the lex talionis: ‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”’ In its Old Testament contexts, this principle was supposed to prevent violence from spiraling out of control. When someone wronged you, your injury didn’t give you unlimited right of revenge. Wrongdoing had to be addressed with strict retribution. No more.  

Next, Jesus warns of a deeper dynamic which leads to problems: ‘But I say to you, do not resist by evil means’. Jesus’ warning is not opposed to the lex talionis. What Jesus is warning about, as New Testament commentator Peter Leithart argues, is not to apply this law in ways that perpetuate violence rather than limit it. The example Jesus gives next is illuminating: a slap on the right cheek is not a violent threat to life. To slap someone on the right cheek, you must use either your left hand, or the back of your right hand. Either of these would have been understood as acts of dishonour and shame to a first century Jew. They were not acts intended to harm grievously. And when someone is intent on publicly shaming or dishonouring you, responding with a counter-act of shame or dishonour only heightens the antagonism between you and encourages further retaliation. Strict retribution in these situations will not achieve the law’s aim of limiting violence.  

This leads us to the third part of the teaching, where Jesus proposes a creative solution to the danger: rather than respond to dishonour with dishonour and risk creating a cycle of vendetta, take the penalty of the law on yourself he says – “accept the second slap rather than giving it” as Leithart puts it. This is what redemptive justice means. It cuts evil off at its root and restores a relationship of peace. After all, a person seeking to humiliate you runs out of ammunition very quickly when you show yourself willing to be humiliated.  

Lex talionis is a principle which limits violence to strict retribution. Adopting this approach would require Israel’s leadership to renounce formally the “Dahiya Doctrine.” 

How then might Israel’s political and military leadership enact redemptive righteousness in the situation it now faces in Gaza and in the areas under its effective control? First, let me say it again, Jesus’ commands do not abolish the lex talionis “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth”. Judgement via military force against Hamas is thus not forbidden by the Sermon on the Mount. But as was noted earlier, the lex talionis is a principle which limits violence to strict retribution. Adopting this approach would require Israel’s leadership to renounce formally the “Dahiya Doctrine” and commit publicly to a more proportionate, discriminate form of retaliation to the Hamas attacks.  

Second, we should note that the political situation which has been created by these attacks has deeper dynamics than merely trying to achieve justice for the victims of the attack. The situation also has important dynamics of shame and honour. Unable to prevent this horrific tragedy, the competency of Israeli political and military leaders has been called into question. They have been humiliated by these attacks, and the great temptation for them now is to ‘resist by evil means’, projecting strength by responding to dishonour with counter-dishonour, humiliation with counter-humiliation. This teaching warns Israel’s leadership to do otherwise: accept the second slap, rather than give it.  Although it may sound counter-intuitive, allow yourself to be humiliated by Hamas rather than perpetuate further humiliation that will alienate the wider Palestinian population and potential Arab allies. Undercut the cycle of humiliation by going out of your way to honor ordinary Palestinians, protecting them from harm and blessing them even if it means incurring greater risks to your own soldiers or civilian population. This is the kind of bold, innovative leadership that Graham Tomlin has argued is needed in this most complex of global conflicts. 

Would adopting such a self-sacrificial military strategy be ultimately self-defeating? Would it weaken Israel’s military advantage and prevent them from achieving victory over Hamas? The opposite is true. The Israeli military, with its superior military capability, is not at all in danger of ceding victory to Hamas by fighting a more self-sacrificial form of warfare. But if Israel fails to adopt a self-sacrificial strategy as it pursues military action, the sweetness of any initial victory will sour into a long-term defeat as the contagion of resentment is sown among a new generation of Palestinians and their supporters.  

But surely this would be politically unfeasible for Israel’s leadership to implement? Any leader who enacted redemptive justice towards Hamas and the wider Palestinian population amidst the current national mood of mourning and outrage would face certain political demise. That may be so. Jesus warns those who follow him that they must be prepared to take up their cross. What would motivate that kind of decision, given the cost? The confidence to enact redemptive justice cannot ultimately be separated from confidence that death has been overcome through resurrection, bringing life to the whole world. The call to enact redemptive justice can only be sustained with a recognition of both the wisdom and the ultimate victory of the Jew from Nazareth.  

Israel’s leadership is at a cross-roads. In response to the horrific attacks of Hamas, it has begun a severe bombing campaign in pursuit of a vengeful justice that will soon be followed by a ground invasion. If it wants long-term peace, it must consider changing course quickly and drastically. It must pursue the redemptive justice of the crucified Messiah that overcomes evil with good.  

Article
Comment
Purpose
Sport
5 min read

So we won the Ryder Cup. At what cost?

When beer flies and etiquette dies, maybe we’ve mistaken sport for something else

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A video still shows a beer can thrown at a golf amid a crows
The beer flies towards Rory McIlroy.

Phew. The Ryder Cup was an epic. After a couple of days of European dominance, fans on this side of the pond looked forward to the Sunday one-on-one single matches as a formality, only needing a few more points to wrap up the Cup, only for the American team to suddenly discover they could play a bit after all. It turns out Europeans play better together (the matches on Friday and Saturday all involved teams of two playing against each other) but the Americans excel when they're on their own. The latter nearly pulled off a famous comeback but finally fell short as the gritty Europeans stumbled across the line, Shane Lowry holding his nerve to sink an eight-footer on the 18th, and Tyrell Hatton sealing the win with a nerveless par on the last.

Much of the talk afterwards however was not about the match but the behaviour of the American fans. The European golfers, especially their talisman Rory McIlroy, were subject to some pretty vile abuse throughout the three days. His wife was drenched by a beer thrown in her direction, insults were shouted as he prepared to play a shot (you just don’t do that in golf) and some idiots seemed more keen to abuse their opponents than support their own players. It seemed strange that Keegan Bradley, the American Captain made no effort to call out his own errant supporters. Yet it was perhaps not surprising in a country where public models of leadership hardly encourage moderation and restraint.

Of course, we are used to this kind of thing in football stadiums in the UK, but golf has somehow always felt different. Football is a fast-paced, hectic game with players running full tilt for just 90 minutes and so it’s understandable that emotions get high and passions flare. Golf is more measured. It takes time, has always laid a great stress on etiquette, following the rules and respecting your opponent. Yet none of that seemed to matter in the bearpit of Bethpage.

To be fair, European fans get pretty partisan when the Americans come here - yet they do seem to stop short of personal vitriol. It seems every time the Ryder Cup is played, the rivalry just gets a notch higher. You just have to hope they rein it in in Adare in Ireland in two years’ time. As the match reached its climax, players (on both sides) leapt about like wild things, thumping their chests like cavemen on winning a point. The crowd hollered their lungs out, or continued hurling insults at the opposition.

I found myself wondering why all this seemed to matter so much? Why were grown (mostly) men reduced to appalling behaviour or breaking down in tears over hitting a small white ball around a field?

Maybe I’m just getting old and nostalgic, but Ryder Cups in the early days were different, with those grainy black and white photos of players in baggy plus-fours and tartan socks. It was the same with Wimbledon before the Open era, Wembley Cup finals back in the day, cricket matches with baggy flannels and thin bats. At the end of titanic struggles there would be a gentle skip towards the opposition, a polite shaking of hands, a wave to the cheering crowds and the presentation of the cup, which was held aloft briefly, before everyone went home. Yes, of course, people got steamed up about sport back then. The 'bodyline' cricket series in Australia in 1932 got the blood boiling between Aussies & Poms, but it was precisely because the English team were playing unfair. There were street parties and public joy when England won the World Cup in 1966, yet there is the famous story of Geoff Hurst after scoring a hat-trick in the 1966 World Cup Final going home and mowing his lawn the day after. Hard to imagine that today.

Nowadays, the presentation ceremony goes on forever, with microphones thrust into players’ faces with the most boringly predictable question: “how do you feel having won (or lost)?” asked every single time. Emotion pours out everywhere. Superlatives are expected and duly uttered.

My mind went back to something the theologian James K. A. Smith said to me in a conversation some time ago. “When there is no longer any Ultimate”, he said, “the Penultimate seems to matter so much more.” His point was that in the absence of a general social belief in God, or a divine order above us, with little sense of any social or divine sanction for, frankly, atrocious behaviour, then things like politics or sport become more and more charged with meaning.

When there is nothing higher than politics, electoral victory becomes all-important. And anything goes in silencing the opposition. When the most significant thing in life is a sporting achievement - even vicariously as a fan - then winning is everything. Where there is a more pervasive sense of belief in God, or an afterlife, where the death of friends or neighbours is a more common occurrence throughout life, or even the task of putting food on the table is a daily struggle, such things matter less. Activities such sport, which were once seen as mildly significant, a pleasant diversion from more onerous tasks, found their true place as something important, but not that important.

Blaise Pascal once wrote: “People are bored stiff with their normal lives and so they need perils and excitement.” He thought that we crave distraction to stop us looking into the abyss, or up into the heavens, to contemplate the ultimate meaning of our lives, the reason why we are here in the first place, and our final destiny. It is classic displacement activity. It is why we pay entertainers more than doctors, vicars or philosophers - because we need the distraction.

The Penultimate begins to matter too much when we no longer have an Ultimate to relate to. Sinking a clutch putt to win a game is satisfying. Yet it is not the reason why we exist. Sport is a great diversion. But it is just that, and realising that might make us behave a bit better towards our opponents and help us to focus on the things that really matter – the questions of meaning and purpose that humans have always asked since the dawn of our race.

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