The Courage of Faith and the Courage of Action: Witnessing Christ in Times of War
І. Restoring historical justice. Mission impossible.
In May 2022, I was giving a lecture on the Russian invasion at the Institute of Philosophy of the Catholic University of Leuven. I wanted to convey to the Western audience the unpleasant truth about the war, in which millions of Ukrainians found themselves unexpectedly. After the lecture ended, one of the listeners commented: “Why do you think the Ukrainian position is objective and deserves support? Let’s hear the other side. Perhaps they [the Russians – author] had legitimate reasons to start this war.”
Reflecting on the nature of war and even superficially analyzing the main events from the history of Western civilization, I am now compelled to acknowledge that the noble (at first glance) idea of restoring justice has been the pretext for initiating many armed conflicts and wars. Take, for instance, the Sudetenland crisis in Czechoslovakia in 1938, where under the guise of restoring historical justice, Hitler demanded the annexation of this region to Germany, claiming it was necessary to protect the rights of the Sudeten Germans living there. The Crimean War (1853–1856) began as a dispute over the rights of Christian minorities in the Ottoman Empire. Russia presented its invasion of Crimea as a protection of Orthodox Christians, though in reality, it had strategic objectives to expand its influence in the Balkans and control over the Black Sea. Consider also the recent instance of Vladimir Putin’s interview with Tucker Carlson, where the topic of restoring historical justice emerged as a pervasive theme. This was despite Putin’s own display of a particularly “unique” interpretation of historical events.
While appeals to justice are frequently used by states or groups to legitimize military actions, the notion of justice alone doesn’t ensure their legitimacy, primarily for two reasons. Firstly, the perception of justice is inherently subjective, varying widely across different cultural, historical, political, and personal contexts. What may seem just to one party can be perceived as unjust by another. Secondly, leaders or governments might invoke justice as a strategic tool to sway public opinion, justify acts of aggression, or obscure the actual motivations behind a conflict, whether they are strategic, economic, or political in nature.
Attending solely to the narratives of conflicting parties fails to offer a full insight into the situation and should not be the sole basis for conflict resolution. It’s imperative to also consider additional factors, such as the ethical and moral implications of military actions, adherence to international law principles, and the risks to global civilization. The casualties among civilians and the widespread devastation wrought by war necessitate a deeper examination of conflict origins. The value and sanctity of human life, the common good, and responsibility towards future generations are meta-principles that inherently complement the pursuit of peace and justice in the context of the social teachings of the Catholic Church. The pursuit of peace or the desire for justice alone makes the structure of social life unstable and even dangerous, like scaffolding without support.
In this war, Russia, regrettably, exhibits a disregard for principles and a lawlessness that not only overlooks the tenets of international law and the sovereignty of other nations but also neglects the fundamental human rights, including respect for and the intrinsic value of human life.
ІІ. A country of contradictions and paradoxes.
Ivan Karamazov, a character from Dostoevsky’s novel, prophetically declared, ‘If there is no God, everything is permitted.’ The paradox of contemporary Russia is that it possesses a church yet seems to lack God’s presence. The Main Cathedral of the Russian Armed Forces starkly symbolizes who (or what) truly reigns as the deity of the Russian state and identifies its devout followers. This situation’s irony deepens as Russia, especially over the past decade and notably in this conflict, positions itself as a guardian of traditional values. It asserts itself as the last authentic refuge for the preservation of eternal metaphysical truths, natural laws, and divine commandments.
The collapse of the Soviet Union marks a pivotal moment that can be interpreted as signaling the close of the modern era on its terrain. Unlike the Western world, where the decisive moment came in the decade following the end of World War II, the countries of the Soviet bloc seemed frozen in the rigid structures of modernity, and the year 1989 marked not only the end of an empire but also the beginning of a redefinition for the countries and peoples who unexpectedly found themselves in a new existential situation. Describing the state of contemporary society with its variability and instability, the rejection of traditional structures and frameworks once considered immutable, sociologist Zygmunt Bauman introduced the term “liquid modernity.” Social structures, identities, and ideologies are no longer stable and predictable, forcing individuals to constantly adapt to changes, requiring flexibility but also leading to feelings of uncertainty and temporariness. Social bonds become more ephemeral, and traditional institutions such as family, class, and nation lose their former stability and influence. Liquid modernity represents an era of new opportunities and anxieties. The changing world is both attractive and repulsive, demanding more responsibility, personal involvement, and the courage to be.
For the former Soviet citizens unaccustomed to freedom, the post-USSR dissolution era was undeniably challenging. In the absence of “solid” societal frameworks, even the notion of truth required reevaluation. Extending Zygmunt Bauman’s “liquid modernity” to encompass knowledge, information, and truth, I propose the term “liquid truth.” In the fluid landscape of “liquid modernity,” characterized by perpetual flux and instability, “liquid truth” captures a scenario where truth’s objectivity and absoluteness are up for debate. Information is swiftly altered or molded by media influences, ideological variances, and individual convictions. Thus, truth becomes a relative concept, its validity contingent upon the context, the angle of perception, or the agendas of particular groups or entities. Unlike post-truth, “liquid truth” does not signify the end of truth per se but rather points to its fluidity and contextuality, encapsulating the idea that “your truth and mine may differ.”
The Russian state machinery is a complex hybrid, combining the rigidity of a totalitarian system with highly adaptable strategies for navigating the information landscape. Russia skillfully employs a variety of information manipulation tactics to advance its agenda, both domestically and internationally. This includes leveraging state-controlled media for propagandizing to its domestic audience, disseminating disinformation and fabricating news for international observers, and engaging in selective information sharing and factual distortions, epitomized by the notorious denial “there are no [Russian] troops there,” a statement well-known to Ukrainians. The machinery behind this, consisting of bot and troll factories, swiftly shifts focus from one topic to another, promoting Kremlin-endorsed narratives and swaying public opinion across social media platforms.
In “The Origins of Totalitarianism” (1951), Hannah Arendt discusses that totalitarian states are founded on two pillars: terror, which instills fear internally among the populace, and propaganda, aimed at persuading those outside of its immediate control. However, the Russian form of totalitarianism merges these strategies, applying both terror and propaganda across the board without distinguishing between those within the country and those abroad. This approach involves spreading misinformation globally while also making nuclear threats, alongside oppressing Russian citizens through arrest, imprisonment, and even murder, all while bombarding them with false information. This tactic showcases a sophisticated use of both intimidation and misinformation to manipulate and control public perception both domestically and internationally.
Regrettably, the Church is not immune to such manifestations of evil. Being a divine-human institution, it, too, occasionally finds itself ensnared in communication pitfalls.
ІІІ. Leopolding. To reconcile the irreconcilable.
In the late Soviet era, the era of my childhood, there was a popular children’s cartoon about a cat named Leopold and two mice he constantly tried to reconcile at any cost. His catchphrase, “Let’s live in harmony,” resonated as a motto for the entire generation of 1980s kids.
Stepping away from the cartoon’s narrative, I aim to employ Cat Leopold’s figure as a metaphor to explore how a commitment to reconciliation, purely for peace’s sake, can turn out to be not just ineffective but potentially harmful. This concept, which I use here, was introduced by writer and blogger Ostap Ukrainets. He is credited with coining “leopolding,” a term that encapsulates the effort to mediate a conflict between two parties, prioritizing the declaration that conflict does not exist as the foremost, and often the sole, significant action.
Real resolution of conflict situations, elimination of imbalances in the status quo, and addressing the actual causes of conflict entail complex and prolonged efforts that require a deep understanding of the conflict’s essence and acceptance that both sides have fundamental differences in viewpoints. Leopolding, on the other hand, represents a form of peacekeeping whose goal is to end the conflict for the sake of peace, but not to resolve the differences that led to it. The ultimate aim of leopolding is the personal comfort of a third party, for whom the existing conflict is an unpleasant incident that temporarily disrupts their living space.
Any conflicts with complex causes always indicate a fundamental imbalance in perspectives and values, divergence in perception and processing of information, disrupting the status quo and provoking conflict. Addressing real conflicts is difficult also because it not only requires an understanding of the essence of the conflicts but because they can’t always be fixed per se. There are antagonistic positions for which a parity reconciliation is inherently impossible. If such an antagonistic position is a fundamental value for a person, they cannot simply be persuaded to reconcile with an opponent whose views entail or require the non-existence of the antagonist. Ukrainian-Russian relations over the past 20 years (at least since the Orange Revolution of 2004 or even earlier) are an example of precisely such a conflict.
However, Leopold is not concerned with reality, but rather with a facade where everyone coexists peacefully. Thus, Leopolding always involves gaslighting the harmed party, and often, both sides, as conflicts typically affect all parties, albeit in different ways. The less authoritative and more susceptible side is usually coerced into ignoring their own interests and values for the sake of the uninterrupted comfort of a third party, which isn’t involved in the conflict situation at all.
Leopolding is harmful because it’s not a tool for conflict resolution and doesn’t address the underlying causes of the conflict; instead, it allows them to be ignored. Typically, ostentatious distancing from a conflict, where direct involvement could contribute to resolution, only encourages further conflicts. Calls for understanding, devoid of an attempt to grasp the underlying issues and deeper differences that fuel the conflict, do little to resolve it; they simply urge silence. On the other hand, engaging in dialogue aimed at resolving the conflict may lead to uncomfortable politicization of discussions. By accepting the strategy of Leopolding imposed by a third party, dissenting parties are forced to be less themselves, so as not to give the impression that the behavior of one side of the conflict may be morally, ethically, deontologically, or politically ambiguous.
IV. Meeting the Truth in person.
Intuition, which many intellectuals – philosophers, political scientists, and even writers – have been discussing lately, revolves around the idea that politics isn’t a separate realm of society. Instead, it permeates our lives, serving as the foundation for interactions with others. As Alain Badiou puts it: “Machiavelli famously described politics as the art of deception. But for us, it should be something more: society’s capacity to shape its destiny, establish justice, and pursue the common good.” In philosophical terms, politics is about existing in the public sphere. In theological terms, it’s not just about human interests; it’s a space where individuals can uncover deeper truths about themselves, their role in the world, and their obligations to the community and to God. In striving for a better world, politics becomes a calling to serve not only earthly needs but also higher moral and spiritual ideals, illuminating the path to the common good through the lens of eternal truths.
In his letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor 12:12-27), explaining the nature of the Church, the Apostle Paul uses the metaphor of the body: the Church as the Body of Christ symbolizes the deep unity of believers with Jesus Christ. At the same time, he emphasizes the interdependence of the members of the Church. Just as in a body, no part can exist independently of the others, so too every believer requires community with other members of the Church for spiritual growth and service.
For various reasons, the Church cannot stand aloof from the tragic events unfolding today, but it must be careful not to become entangled in false narratives. I particularly urge caution to avoid finding ourselves in morally ambiguous situations resembling Leopold’s dilemma. Peace and reconciliation lose their meaning when their initial intent lacks sincerity in resolving the conflict. Worse still is when the conflict remains unresolved because its terms demand the annihilation of the other party, not just as a discussion participant but in the literal cessation of their existence.
A compromise is a mutually beneficial agreement where both sides make concessions to achieve a greater good. However, not all compromises are equal, and some may be morally unacceptable or harmful. Philosopher Avishai Margalit calls these “rotten compromises,” which violate fundamental moral principles and values such as justice or human rights. Rotten compromises often result from strong political or social pressure, where parties feel compelled to sacrifice their principles to achieve a greater goal. However, resorting to such compromises ultimately undermines the legitimacy of the negotiating process and harms the foundation of society. “I believe we should be judged more by our compromises than by our ideals and norms. Ideals can tell us something important about who we want to be. But compromises tell us who we are.”
Being willing to compromise with evil aligns us with the Pharisees to whom Jesus spoke, saying, “You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires” (John 8:44). In the context of the Russian-Ukrainian war, where innocent lives are at stake, basic human rights are violated, and power is abused, we, as Christians, are called to stand as witnesses to the truth. Our faith teaches us that every person is made in the image and likeness of God, and therefore, we are obligated to defend the dignity of each individual. This means we cannot stand aside when dignity is trampled upon. The peace we seek isn’t just the absence of conflict; it must embody Christian values. False peacemaking, which turns a blind eye to evil and injustice, doesn’t lead to genuine peace but only to temporary and shaky ceasefires that fail to address underlying issues. Pursuing personal (including spiritual) comfort instead of truth is a capitulation to evil. Ignoring breaches of human dignity principles and attempting to reconcile victims and perpetrators is a form of evil akin to the perpetrator’s crime.
The truth of Christ is unveiled to us only in the direct, face-to-face encounter with those who suffer. This truth transcends mere words of faith; it resides in our actions, in our capacity to empathize, support, and assist. By bearing personal witness and extending recognition and support to every individual who has endured the psychological or physical anguish of war, we exemplify the transformative power of Christ’s love, capable of vanquishing even the most formidable forces of totalitarianism and evil.
Defeating the totalitarian monster is only achievable when we personally confront the Other, face to face. It’s not just an external fight but also an internal struggle against our fears, apathy, and the temptation to remain silent in the face of evil. As Christians, we’re called to be beacons of light in the darkness, peacemakers who, nevertheless, do not hesitate to denounce evil and stand on the side of truth.
In these challenging times, our Christian witness calls for courage, wisdom, and unwavering faith. It beckons us to be more than passive bystanders but active participants, dedicated to promoting peace, justice, and love – core tenets of our Christian mission.
Orysya Bila, Head of the Department of Philosophy at the Faculty of Philosophy and
Theology, Ukrainian Catholic University
This is an expanded text of the speech delivered at the International Conference “New
Wine in Old Wineskin: The Need for New Thinking in Catholic Teaching on Just
Peace,” February 26-27, 2024, Ukrainian Catholic University, Lviv.
