Just war doctrine in an age of hyperpower politics.

Whatever else may come of the U.S. invasion and occupation of Iraq, a clear need focus anew on the ethics of postmodern war has emerged. And considering the regularity with which commentators on the ethics of war invoke just war doctrine as the basis for their views, the questions posed--and, more importantly, the questions not posed--by this classical doctrine warrant greater scrutiny and skepticism now than ever before.

Traditionally, just war doctrine has offered a number of now-familiar considerations for determining the justifiability of resorting to war and the attendant propriety of one's actions in prosecuting war: Is there sufficient cause to justify going to war? Does the use of force represent a last resort after all other reasonable means have been exhausted? Is the use of force backed by the correct intentions? Does the decision to resort to force emanate from proper authority? Is there a reasonable prospect of success in employing force? Is the resort to force and the employment of particular means proportional to the situation at hand, the stakes involved, the ends sought, and the danger posed? Do the means employed discriminate sufficiently between combatants and innocent noncombatants to minimize harm to the latter?

All of these questions have been asked in varying measure regarding Iraq but none has been answered satisfactorily. Rather, this latest round of questioning has only reaffirmed that established just war precepts, rather than being clear guides to action (or inaction), can be vague, malleable, and subject to self-serving manipulation by governments seeking both legitimacy and exculpation for their martial sins.

Established just war doctrine falls especially short, though, in failing to ask a number of crucial questions that now beg to be posed--not simply to accommodate the postmodern media age but no less to face up to the appetites, muscularity, and impatience of a United States that seems intent on fulfilling its imagined mandate as world hyperpower.

Question 1: Are the authorities charged with responsibility for committing forces to war strategically competent? Are they, in other words, possessed of a coherent strategic vision that frames their actions? Is their grasp of the world cosmopolitan and global, rather than provincial and ethnocentric? Do they demonstrate an adequate understanding of the nature and uses of power (as distinct from raw force)? Do they appreciate the extended, frequently hidden, political, economic, social, and psychological consequences of their actions (punitive or otherwise)? Do they target actions at underlying causes that offer hope of permanent resolution, or merely at the visible symptoms of the moment? Are they measured and rational, rather than extravagant, in allocating vital national resources to security?

Not simply must decisions to go to war emanate from the highest authority in the land, such authority must be competent. And not simply must such authority be competent, it must be strategically so. Absent such strategic acumen, absent the intellectual proficiency to judge the larger effects and implications of military action, those at the pinnacle of power lack proper moral standing and authority to commit forces to war legitimately.

Question 2: Does the use of force minimize provocation and escalation? If force is used, will it dampen the level of violence and diminish the propensity of those against whom it is used, as well as others, to engage in further aggression? Or is it likely to have the opposite effect (as it has in Iraq)? Might it, in other words, foment a contagion of terrorism, lead to the proliferation--and eventual use--of nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons, or feed the radicalization and coalescence of militant, anti-democratic fundamentalist groups and regimes?

One of the most commonplace rationalizations for the use of force--certainly one the Bush administration invoked in attacking Iraq--is that such action is necessary to deter future would-be aggressors. The speciousness of this assumption lies in the fact that deterrence, even at its Cold War conceptual zenith, was never more than an empirically suspect, imperfectly verifiable living experiment. If the possession of nuclear weapons can't deter non-nuclear aggression, why would it be assumed that high-intensity conventional warfare against other states will dissuade non-state actors (individuals and groups) from employing an almost infinite array of unconventional violence on their own terms?

If resort to war therefore promises to so feed such anger, resentment, and desire for retribution that it precipitates higher levels of militarism, extremism, aggression, and destruction, it is morally--and strategically --unsound.

Question 3: Does the use of force minimize the prospects of retaliatory harm against innocent civilians--especially one's own? Whereas the foregoing question dealt with evoking disproportionate adversary response, this one focuses on the potential indiscriminate nature of such response. And whereas traditional just war doctrine enjoins against endangering innocents associated with the objects of force, this question focuses, necessarily, on innocents associated with the users of force.

More than any other consideration, this question reflects both the general nature of what has been infelicitously labeled asymmetric warfare and the particular foes one might face in the Middle East. If Iraq is at all representative, such adversaries are highly unlikely to engage advanced military formations directly. They are much more likely to respond in delayed, indirect fashion by undertaking or supporting future terrorist attacks, ultimately targeted against innocent civilians around the world.

It would be fatuous to suggest that not invading Iraq would have led, ipso facto, to a diminution of terrorism elsewhere (notwithstanding the clear causal link between the U.S. invasion and the August 19, 2003, terrorist bombing of United Nations headquarters in Baghdad). But it would be no less fatuous to conclude that terrorist acts like the coordinated May 2003 bombings in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and Casablanca, Morocco, are directly and solely attributable to the Iraq invasion. Nonetheless, there is a reasonable expectation that attacks against Arabs and Muslims, especially by the United States, provoked or not, will be seen as imperialistic arrogance; produce only temporary, unwilling deference from the objects of out aggression; reinforce extant grievances (real or imagined); and feed a persistent hunger for revenge that cannot help but be attracted to vulnerable civilian populations.

Policymakers who knowingly resort to war against such foes, when the prospect of disproportionate, indiscriminate retaliation is so high, are taking a morally irresponsible position that could well produce the most extreme form of injustice to innocent people. The fact that there has yet to be another incident on the order of 9/11 doesn't diminish the potential that yet remains for catastrophic revenge attacks against civilian populations. The passage of time, in fact, effectively obscures the link of causation between one's aggression and subsequent retaliatory responses--thereby enabling decision-makers to escape any culpability for provocation.

Question 4: Can the resort to force be undertaken effectively without sacrificing or appreciably diminishing the wellbeing of one's own people? Or will the costs of sustaining and recovering from military operations deplete resources otherwise available for fulfilling human needs and rights at home?

The Preamble to the U.S. Constitution enumerates the conditions that collectively constitute the basis for ensuring human security: national unity ("a more perfect union"), justice, domestic tranquility, the common defense, the general welfare, and liberty. When all these things exist, the people are secure. But when they don't exist--as when providing for the common defense is done in lieu of, or at the expense of, other critical imperatives--the inevitable result is insecurity.

So, a decision to resort to war (especially undeclared war of dubious purpose) that ultimately is so costly that other vital human needs and rights at home--health care, education, infrastructure development, public safety--must be sacrificed is morally and strategically suspect, if not unconscionable. The price to be paid for such misallocated resources--perhaps as much as $100 billion total in Iraq--is a lower quality of life for one's citizens, diminished trust and confidence in government, and thereby reduced freedom of action for government to respond to other situations elsewhere.

One can only hope that the war in Iraq and the attendant stridency of U.S. policymakers will in fact prompt renewed attention to the ethics of war and an associated reappraisal of just war doctrine. The questions our forebears have traditionally posed to adjudge the justifiability of employing force remain salient today; however, in the final analysis, they lack the intellectual vitality to guide and constrain the sort of arrogant militarism that now looms before the nation. If such precepts are to retain their authority in the policy deliberations of the future and in tethering the impulses of politicians, they will require a healthy measure of rethinking and reformulation.

Gregory D. Foster is a professor at the Industrial College of the Armed Forces, National Defense University, Washington, D.C., where he previously has served as George C. Marshall professor and J. Carlton Ward distinguished professor and director of research.