Explainer
Comment
Gaza
Israel
War & peace
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
Community
Sustainability
Wildness
5 min read

What my noisy, messy crow neighbours have taught me about how to live

We can’t control nature; we just need to become more porous to it

Joel Pierce is the administrator of Christ's College, University of Aberdeen. He has recently published his first book.

Crows caw and strut.
Meet the neighbours.
Townsend Walton on Unsplash.

Our neighbours hate our crows. I can’t blame them. The hundreds of crows that occupy the tops of the ancient pines which surround our rural manse are the noisiest and messiest residents I have ever lived near. They greet each sunrise with a din of caws and counter-caws, as if they are deeply concerned that anyone might miss this momentous daily event or the fact that it’s now happening before 5:30a.m. In nesting season, which lasts most of April and May, our car is easily identifiable in any carpark by the crusted grey spots with which the crows see fit to adorn it. Within a week of moving in, we gave up on the washing line so invitingly strung between two of the pines. Our pristine whites were too tempting a target for our crows. 

I do not attend the meetings of our local community council, but I hear whispers of what transpires there. Our crows, evidently, have been a regular topic of conversation. Multiple solutions have been proffered for driving them away. All have been tried and all have failed. Our crows cling fiercely to their homes and their determination is more than a match for any human efforts. If I have the vibe of my community right, at least some of its members feel that there’s something perverse, obscene even, about a flock of birds being allowed to upset our human right to create a serene, comfortable, and convenient habitation. Our clump of houses is surrounded by a visually stunning landscape; shouldn’t the aural landscape be equally beautiful?  

If my family does not mind our crows, it is because the treetop drama is just one more example of many natural encroachments on the house, some more welcome than others.  

Every year we celebrate the miraculous return to our eaves of house martins, home from their intercontinental peregrinations. We look forward to another summer spent watching their acrobatics and listening to their chicks in the nests an arm’s length from our windows.  

Clearing up the mess of our attic’s bats is an annual chore, one thankfully performed stoically by our church’s property convener, but there are compensations - such as the twilight shows they put on outside our living room window, performing impossible turns and reversals midair in their search for prey.  

Less welcome are the massive spiders, which are a perennial presence; the slugs, which seemed to apparate onto the hall carpet all through winter, the mice, two of whom sacrificed themselves to knock our dishwasher out of action by chewing through its hose; and the wasps who built a nest the size of a telephone box in the roof space above our back bathroom.  

Least fun of all has been what we call the Great Earwig Migrations, which have happened twice in our half-decade in the manse and which involve weeks of finding the little bugs under, seemingly, every object and on every surface.  

When we moved into the manse, we expected challenges, the high heating bills, the leaking roof, and the isolation of the countryside. What we did not expect was the experience of porousness; the shock of realising that we had so little control over what other forms of life saw fit to share our habitation with us.  

At first it felt to me perverse, obscene even, that a house, even a 120-year-old house, should be so vulnerable to incursions by animal creation. Shouldn’t our home, our space, be a haven where we can control who or what enters, who or what we feel comfortable with, and who or what we can exclude?  

If I had to give a name to this expectation, maybe it would be that of the buffered home, a play on philosopher Charles Taylor’s description of the modern self as buffered. Taylor contrasts the selves we aspire to be in modernity, ones able to control and order our bodies, our space, our lives, and our relationships so that they accord with our autonomous desires and actions, with those of our premodern ancestors. Medievals and ancients assumed porosity. Bodies were subject not just to biological infection, but spiritual infections too. Projects and plans were frustrated not just by mistakes or personal failings, but by the ever-fickle whims of the goddess Fortuna. Their lives, their bodies, their homes, existed in a perpetual state of vulnerability. The threat of everything falling apart was always on the horizon. 

We want nature to survive, flourish even, but not at the cost of our comforts or our sense of autonomy and security.

Modern technology has helped us tame the more unwelcome of these forces, but it has also given us an overly naive expectation that all that is inconvenient about nature can and should be gradually eliminated. This expectation frames the way we respond to worries about climate change and other creeping environmental crises. We want nature to survive, flourish even, but not at the cost of our comforts or our sense of autonomy and security. But as our ancestors might remind us, we are part of nature too, and, just as in any relationship, mutual vulnerability and sacrifice are needed if we are all going to survive. This is scary, but there are resources within Christianity - within other faiths too - to help us understand that there are benefits to affirming our vulnerability, our porosity. 

My daughters love our crows. They point in wonder as the crows flood into the sky at dusk, hundreds of them making a giant circle once, then twice round the garden, before settling down for the night. When, in late May, grounded fledgings appear, bundles of feathers shocked at the sudden inhospitality of the nest, too stunned to realise they can fly home, my daughters watch over them, anxious lest the local cats take advantage of their bewilderment.  

A few Sundays ago, my youngest, who struggles to stay quiet and well-behaved in Sunday School, pulled me out of church early. We sat on the church lawn staring up at the crows and soon were adapting the andante melodies of that Sunday’s hymns into imagined songs of praise that crows might sing. “No,” my youngest said, simpatico with the crows as she is, “I think they’d want something more upbeat.” And so we tried setting our own corvid-themed praise lyrics to Rosé and Bruno Mars’ song APT, while listening to the caw and counter-caw above. “Dad, how do you think God sees the world?” she asked me when we finished. I stumbled through my best theologically informed explanation of how God could be in every part of creation without being of it, before she stopped me. “I think it’s like a giant snow globe that he holds in his hands.” Watching the birds swirl around us, two stationary figures caught by the same currents of air that were sweeping them aloft, what could I do but agree? 

Support Seen & Unseen

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief