Reformed on War

A Review of Protestant Politics Beyond Calvin

Protestants without the Reformation

Our understanding of the full breadth and depth of the Protestant tradition is shallow, especially in America and especially in the realm of politics. The current generation of scholars is beginning to remedy this deficiency, which is a very good thing, but there is a very long way to go. It turns out in the aftermath of the Reformation, Protestants across the European continent – Lutheran and Reformed – produced many works on Christian ethics and politics that have largely gone unnoticed, discarded, or forgotten by American protestants and contemporary evangelicals. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was onto something when he quipped that American Protestantism was Protestantism without the Reformation. 

In the current dustups between the younger Reformed who are rediscovering and amplifying the tradition and the reaction against them we see Bonhoeffer’s aphorism playing out in real time. Reformed protestants had a well-developed and complex view of politics, but if you share those views publicly or find them persuasive you will often be brandished as a “sacralist”, “authoritarian,” “fascist,” or some other slur for holding views contrary to set of convictions that have been labeled the “postwar consensus” (PWC). 

Though I think the critics of PWC often don’t appreciate the actual history behind the development of the postwar order, I am deeply sympathetic with their critique.  They are absolutely right in their criticism of evangelicals – many of whom are very influential – who have uncritically accepted the political platitudes of our age as an article of faith. For some reason, recovering the theological tradition is acceptable, but the political and ethical tradition is off limits.

There is deep irony in the selective retrieval of the past couple of decades. In terms of doctrine and spiritual practices, evangelicals have zealously drawn upon patristic, medieval, and Reformation sources to refresh and renew our theology and spiritual practices. We enthusiastically read Richard Foster and Dallas Willard who draw upon spiritual practices from medieval and ancient Christianity, but when it comes to politics and ethics, there is a kneejerk aversion. Why have we retrieved doctrine and spiritual practices but not the political and ethical views that the Reformed believed were integral to their theological project? The critics of this project offer many answers, but it rarely comes from robust engagement with the sources and, more often than not, it stems from ignorance or a refusal to even countenance the question.

David French is a good example of this tendency. On a weekly basis, he writes columns in the New York Times castigating evangelicals for their sins and praising “pluralism,” but when it comes to his substantive political views, he is a libertarian.  There are virtues to libertarianism, but when one reads 16th and 17th-century Protestants, they are most decidedly not libertarians. What is most disturbing about French is not his continual vituperation towards his supposed co-religionists – though that is bad – it is his absolute complacency with regard to his own tradition. Not only does he have no clue what Peter Martyr Vermigli, John Calvin, or Samuel Rutherford wrote about politics, he does not care.  The sum total of politics is embodied in basic libertarian convictions about individual liberty and government restraint with Christian language smothered over the top. 

It is the same with many of those evangelicals who lambast so-called “Christian nationalism.” Though not everything that traffics under the name of Christian nationalism is defensible, it is surely the case that a good deal of what is criticized as “dangerous,” and “authoritarian” is merely the consensus of most Reformed protestants for most of history. The truth is that Reformed Protestants had a distinct view of politics that was developed and refined over the centuries, and if we care at all about our own history, then we should do them and our theological tradition the courtesy of trying to understand them rather than merely parroting the political nostrums of the current thing. If you are Reformed and deign to speak authoritatively about Christian politics, at a minimum, you should have read your own tradition.  As the youngsters say – do the reading.

The Reformed Account of Just War

I offer this long preface as an invitation to begin taking these questions more seriously by actually reading the Protestant tradition on political questions. And the resources we have available are significant and growing. You really have no excuse.  Over the next decade, we will see the translation and dissemination of a large corpus of writings from 16th and 17th-century Protestants on politics and ethics that will foment intellectual renewal of American Protestants and evangelicals the same way that recovery of doctrinal sources has served to rejuvenate theological disciplines. 

An excellent newly edited volume by Ian Campbell and Floris Verhaart, Protestant Politics Beyond Calvin: Reformed Theologians on War in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, offers a selection of newly translated texts from Continental Reformed theologians on the question of war. The title is both descriptive and aspirational: we need to move beyond Calvin if we are to understand the flowering of Reformed political thought; that is, not leave Calvin behind but appreciate how many of the ideas we see in Calvin’s work take on a deeper and more sophisticated elaboration after him. The writers in this volume are geographically and chronologically broad, but representative of the writings that Reformed clergy would read in the influential schools and intellectual hubs of Reformed life across Europe in the late 16^th and early 17^th century. 

The selections span roughly a century of thinking on war, starting with Peter Martyr Vermigli’s Commentary on Genesis and ending with Johannes Hornbeeck’s Practical Theology. Editors have sought to redress the lack of attention in English language scholarship given to continental writers, many of whose names are less familiar to popular audiences and scholars of war, but provide us with important perspectives on developing ideas within Protestantism. Lambet Daneau, Bartholomaus Keckermann, David Pareus, Guillaume de Buc, and Johann Alsted were all influential in the development and systematizing of Reformed orthodoxy, and their political and moral theology were no less important as Protestants developed a self-consciously Protestant perspective on these issues. The major works in Just War scholarship all but ignore them, turning to Thomas Aquinas and Catholic theologians and jurists and Hugo Grotius, who probably converted to Rome later in life, as the standard bearers for ethical traditions regarding warfare.

The title for this collection is apt. While Calvin’s political views are spelled out briefly at the end of the Institutes, there is much more to Reformed politics beyond Calvin. Although one can trace many of the later ideas through Calvin, he is not the origin point for many of these ideas and does not develop them as fully as subsequent Reformed writers. Indeed, Reformed Protestants held much in common with Catholics and the medieval tradition they worked from. Luther was unique in his hostility towards Aristotle and Aquinas—both figures are cited positively by Reformed theologians—though even he was quite medieval in many of his political convictions.

The title should add “Before Grotius” because Grotius De Iure Belli ac Pacis, published in 1625, was such an influential and authoritative work that it has exercised an inordinate influence on the development of international law, law of war, and Just War thinking, to the point that other works are totally eclipsed. Grotius’ work was a landmark and generally well received by his contemporaries—even critics couldn’t deny his brilliance—but it obscures the tradition because many of the ideas that are present in Grotius are present in early Reformed works that surely would have influenced Grotius.

The question of war was a central political concern for all protestants because war was the most important duty of the prince. European aristocracy has its roots in warfare. Aristocrats were tied to land and the defense of that land and the protection of its subjects. That meant military service was the primary duty of the aristocratic class. One still sees this military tradition in the last vestiges of the royal families across Europe. Compared to modern nation-states with massive bureaucracies and extensive programs and expenditures, kings and princes in early modern Europe did comparatively little. Security was their most important task, and it was vitally important for the fledgling Reformed churches that often saw their fortunes rise and fall with the princes and aristocrats who championed their cause. 

For the Reformed and Lutherans living within a hostile Europe ruled by Catholic Emperors and monarchs, war was at the front of their minds. It was not a choice but a necessity. Protestants were forced to take up arms to defend their polities, their way of life, their faith, land, and families. For example, Lambert Daneau fled France in the aftermath of the bloody St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre. The mobility of Reformed theologians and pastors was due in part to this instability. Violence and war were constant in this period of massive upheaval and realignment. 

To Americans, so removed from the chaos of 16^th and 17^th century Europe, we tend to think of war as a choice, as something we can opt in and out of. This is largely a result of geography, history, and our own single continent-wide republic. We have had the good fortune of founding our nation on a continent mostly devoid of powerful rivals. Weak countries to the north and south have ensured mostly pacific relations. We are surrounded by water and a significant distance from other major military powers, which has made invasion a near impossibility. We are a nation that is able to manage conflicts through our federal system of government. Early modern Europe, a hodgepodge of discrete nations and principalities, was a hornet’s nest of political, religious, and military conflict. The Holy Roman Empire, with its pastiche of overlapping political jurisdictions, kingdoms, imperial cities, and duchies was in a state of near-constant conflict for centuries. 

Unsurprisingly, one of the most pressing political issues of the Reformation was the role of the magistrate and especially their role in declaring and conducting warfare.  It was not only a question of resistance against tyrannical rulers—so-called “resistance theory”— but the use of arms more broadly by the magistrate that brought about extensive writing—canon law, civil law, theology, and philosophy—that has come to be known as the Just War tradition. 

The tradition of Just War has ebbed and flowed with time. Writing and debate flourished after the publication of Gratian’s Decretum. Medieval jurists, theologians, bishops, canon lawyers, and a host of other figures debated features of the just war. The crusades occasioned much debate over the novel idea of the pope claiming the right to declare war. This was wrapped up in broader debates about the political status and extent of papal power. Writing from the 12^th to 16^th century was incredibly sophisticated and put into place most of the features of what we recognize as the Just War tradition. Protestants by and large accepted this moral tradition, using Catholic sources like Augustine, Aquinas, and Gratian as authoritative. Though Protestant views possessed some distinct features, their writings fall within the tradition. 

Reformed Consensus

There are differences amongst Reformed Protestants on war, but the consensus is important and will be my focus here. A fairly coherent Protestant view of war begins to emerge from these readings that is very much in line with older Just War tradition, though the departures are noteworthy and important to highlight. 

The Reformed were thoroughly conversant with the Just War tradition both in terms of the scholarly and legal tradition as well as the practice of warfare in their own time. Augustine is freely acknowledged as the founder of the Christian Just War tradition and is quoted frequently on questions of war as a primary authority. Gratian, Aquinas, and other Catholic jurists and theologians are acknowledged and accepted as authorities. They are aware of the contemporary work amongst Catholics, for instance in Salamanca, and are reading their works.

What stands out about Reformed Just War thinking, in contrast to their Catholic counterparts, is the direct and extensive use of scripture. Whereas Catholics may cite a passage of scripture here and there, they would rely more heavily on canon law, church tradition, and authoritative opinions from revered theologians and bishops. That’s not to say the Reformed did not also draw upon the long scholarly tradition and figures such as Aquinas and Augustine, but the engagement with scripture borders on obsessive in many of their writings, and not always in ways that modern evangelicals would be comfortable with. Unlike their Catholic counterparts, who were comfortable with invoking the authority of church counsels, canon law, or other authorities, the Reformed were eager to ground and demonstrate how the ethics of warfare, and politics in general, could be drawn and supported from the Bible and, therefore, were at pains to make those connections clear. 

Their use of the Bible is creative and capacious. They were not merely looking for a single command or principle to justify their beliefs. The use of the Old Testament is the most instructive. In arguing for the inviolability of the natural law precept for self-defense, Guillame du Buc draws upon the example of David and Saul, claiming David had a right to kill Saul on natural law grounds, but foreswore his right for what he considered more important reasons. King David is often referred to as an example for princes and magistrates to imitate. The books of Kings and Chronicles are used to illustrate, prove, and emulate. Lambert Daneau turns to Deuteronomy 20 for guidance on how to treat enemies and the spoils of war. David Pareus reasons analogically from Daniel 4:31, that magistrates may be removed from office just as Nebuchadnezzar was removed from office when he turned into a raging beast.

This does not mean that they think nations are bound in any way to Israel’s covenant with God. Rather, they see the Old Testament, and the whole of the Bible, as filled with moral wisdom, truth, and examples that are all instructive in varied ways.  One must be careful and interpret passages properly, but there is much material to be used. Because they also believed in natural law—moral precepts and norms we grasp naturally without revelation—they see the Old Testament as displaying that underlying reality and can, therefore, draw upon it as illustrating those precepts that are binding for all time.

Contemporary evangelicalism made the Gospels and the person of Jesus the sum total of ethics.  All other sources are deficient. Twentieth-century Protestants Anders Nygren and Karl Barth exemplified this conviction, as well as contemporaries such as influential pacifist theologian Stanley Hauerwas. Christocentric ethics appears to make a lot of sense to modern Christians—shouldn’t Jesus be the ethical standard for all our behavior? —but is at odds with historic Protestantism that held, with Catholics, that natural law was true and binding on Christian behavior. Du Buc, expressing this basic consensus, writes “For the laws of nature are not abolished in the Gospel.” The person of Jesus and his teaching do not negate natural law nor the ethics of the Old Testament. They are complementary. When it comes to war, the command to love and natural law do not compete. Love says we must correct our neighbor, by force of arms if necessary, and protect the innocent. Romans 13 authorizes the magistrate to punish wrongdoing and use force in defense of the commonwealth. Natural law clearly teaches protection of one’s own and punishment of wrongdoers.

For the same reason pacifism is rejected. While private Christians are bound to Jesus’ words to turn the other cheek and love enemies, Jesus’ teaching is not meant to govern the magistrate, who is bound to use coercion in order to protect their subjects and punish wrongdoers. This is not a contradiction. Vermigli argues that love takes many forms and while love may require forbearance and suffering, as prescribed by Matthew 5, in other circumstances it may require other behaviors and actions. He does not see the statements in Matthew 5 about loving our enemies or turning the other cheek as mandating non-violence or requiring Christians to only ever suffer wrong. In some cases, suffering may be necessary, but in others love may look different. The object, Vermigli asserts, of the love commands are “the salvation of our neighbors and divine honour” and in some cases that requires suffering and forbearance, while others may require

At first blush this way of using the Bible may appear irresponsible and loose. In fact, it is quite complex and disciplined. There is flexibility and creativity, but it is within certain bounds and quite modest. When Pareus invokes the example of Nebuchadnezzar he is not intending this to be a proof-text, but an illustration that demonstrates the point he is making, which could be made by a number of other passages. 

The role of the magistrate is the most striking difference between Reformed and Catholic Just War writings. Reformed political theology could be summed up as a theology of the magistrate. Many have labeled magisterial Protestants “theocrats.” The label may make sense to a modern person, including many evangelicals, who think biblical Christianity requires an absolute separation between religion and politics. This merely reflects how deeply we have imbibed a set of categories that are alien to the bible and Christian tradition. The Reformed believed the office of magistrate was indeed a distinct authority with its own God given prerogatives that were different, though complementary, to that of church. If the object of magistrate was to bring about a just order, that did not forbid encouraging his subjects towards greater piety, though it was as a support to the ecclesial authority. 

The Pope and Catholic church were not only a theological problem, but they were also a political problem. The Pope’s claims to universal jurisdiction blurred the line between ecclesial and civil authority, allowing for the usurpation and corruption of political power by the Catholic church. The political machinations of the Pope are decisively rejected by the Reformed through the clear demarcation between the roles of civil and ecclesial authority. Papal claims to universal jurisdiction continued to exercise a malign influence across Europe and the Reformed are clear that magistrates are the divinely sanctioned means for exercising political authority within a given political community, the claims of Popes notwithstanding.

Many would point to the Crusades as an abuse of papal power with respect to war, but Protestant objections to the Crusades are more modest than the shock and horror of our contemporaries. None of the Reformed believe conversion could be forced or coerced. That is uniform across all writers on war. Johann Alsted states the consensus concisely: “Since believing is a voluntary act, it is not at all allowed that anyone should be forced into faith. Not only must the Christian faith be from all force and coercion, but it must be received without fear of death, servitude, incarceration, punishments, or similar evils.” Keckermann states it in a pithier way: “faith can be urged, but not forced.” The true faith should be recognized and supported publicly, but it cannot be forced, especially through force of arms. 

On the grounds that the Crusades were launched as a means of converting the pagans and Muslims, they should be rejected. Daneau writes, “neither Christ himself nor his apostles teach that we should take up weapons against those who are not Christians, as if this were a legitimate means to destroy their error.” Rather, it is when “public laws”, “public peace and tranquility” are threatened that war must be waged. The principle enunciated here is that the propagation of the faith is not an acceptable reason to take up arms, but the defense of the laws and peace is. Far from being theocrats, the Reformed have a more modest and restrained view of grounds for taking up arms that is concerned primarily with preserving order and peace.

The Crusades were a usurpation of the role of the magistrate by the Pope. It is not within the authority of the church to declare war and so the novel declaration by the Pope was clearly overstepping his role. But the Crusades were a complicated affair, and some Reformed defended them on grounds that were in keeping with their own principles. Alsted, probably thinking about Ottoman incursions into Eastern and Central Europe, seems to provide a justification for Crusading on account of the occupation of historic Christian lands and the threat to Christian lives and religion. 

This leads to one of the most interesting and controversial features of the Reformed view of Just War. To a man, Reformed theologians believed the defense and preservation of “true religion” constituted a sufficient cause for taking up arms. Understandably this would be a major concern if you are a Protestant living in Europe during this time when war and violence on account of religious belief was an issue of universal importance. To the Reformed, the claim that true religion ought to be defended, even by force of arms, was assumed. It was a non-issue. Why? Keckermann’s Aristotelian formulation is helpful here:

“For reigning over subjects is just leading those subjects to every good and in fact not just to moral good, but also to theoretical good or virtue and to religious virtue or true piety, from which that highest and most perfect and so immutable good arises, which called ‘eternal life.’”

More succinctly, if the ruler cares about the good of the commonwealth then he must rule in such as way as to lead them to the highest good, which is eternal life. Du Buc asserts it is “just and necessary to resist those who want to force upon us alien gods and wicked superstitions and want to take away the salvation bringing teaching of God’s word and want to stain it with the point of human traditions.” For all these writers, preserving true religion is necessary for the good of the people but also to properly honor God.

The idea that the defense of religion is a proper cause for Just War is out of bounds today. Most American Christians would find that idea strange if not dangerous. Just War scholars focus on material harm done to one’s nation, and not on something so ethereal or intangible as religion. Our inability to see religion is not merely a set of private beliefs but a public good that must be preserved for the good of a nation is a giant blind spot that needs to be questioned. A people that reduces all of politics to physical harm should not be surprised when they wind up lacking the ability to defend and cherish the things that matter most in life. 

Conclusion

I recommend this volume to popular audiences that are interested in reading a sampling of Reformed political thought in this important phase. The focus on war should not deter those interested in having a better grasp of Reformed thought more broadly. Pastors and laity would benefit from sampling this broad cross section to get a flavor of how our Reformed forebears think about important issues. It is an eye-opening and enriching experience.

Image: The Siege of La Rochelle by the Duke of Anjou in 1573 (“History of Henry III” tapestry, completed in 1623), anonymous. Wikimedia Commons.

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