My Background.

I write as an Australian chaplain and mechanic whose days have been shared between the workshop, the paddock, and the pulpit. Much of what I know has been learned beside others—fitters and electricians, stockmen, and the steady hands who keep small communities going. The work itself has been a teacher: measure twice; do only what must be done; keep faith with your word; stop the moment the danger is past. Those habits—prudence, honesty, restraint—shape how I approach the just war tradition. They are not theories for me so much as the moral grain of ordinary labour.

I also carry a family grief. My grandfather, Arthur Chapman, perished as a prisoner on the Sandakan death march. Over time I have learned to forgive the Japanese, not by excusing cruelty, but by recognising that their worldview in that moment of history was different from mine—and accepting all that such difference entails: formation, fear, honour, duty, and the pressures of war. Forgiveness, for me, names evil truthfully while refusing to pass the debt across generations; it distinguishes persons from systems and leaves judgment with God. That posture, shaped by the gospel and by the just war discipline, keeps my attention on the humane obligations that should govern force—feeding, sheltering, protecting the vulnerable—and on the hope of reconciliation where it is possible.These threads shape my conviction that the Good Shepherd meets us “through the valley” (Ps 23:4), and that pastoral theology must be warm, sturdy, and real.

1) Framing the tradition: what kind of “history” is this?

When I think about just war, I don’t first see a classroom. I see a worksite before a risky job. As an employer would, I ask: Who’s authorised? What exactly must be done? What’s the risk to the crew and bystanders? How do we shut it down as soon as the danger’s past? The Christian tradition has asked those questions for centuries and named them legitimate authority, just cause, right intention, then last resort, probability of success, proportionality, and discrimination—all aiming at what Augustine calls tranquillitas ordinis, the calm of right order.¹

Victor Davis Hanson helps me picture the “engine” that ethics must govern—citizen soldiers, oaths, civic habits (The Western Way of War; Carnage and Culture).³¹³² Jonathan Edwards gives me the governor for that engine: rightly ordered love. In The Nature of True Virtue and Charity and Its Fruits, he insists that genuine goodness is “benevolence to being in general.”³⁹³⁸ If force is ever used, it must finally serve the neighbour’s good, not rage, pride, or glory.

2) Patristic and Augustinian roots

Scripture pulls me into a faithful tension. Deuteronomy fences war (Deut 20); Isaiah dreams of ploughshares (Isa 2:2–4). Jesus calls me to love enemies (Matt 5), yet John tells soldiers to act justly rather than abandon their post (Luke 3:14). Paul names government “God’s servant” to restrain evil (Rom 13:1–7). Augustine gathers this into three bearings: authority, cause, intention—force only to right grave wrong and always toward peace.¹²

Hanson’s classical portraits show why Augustine had to convert courage—discipline can keep a battle “clean” one day and slide into atrocity the next.³¹³³ Edwards helps me check my motives at the heart level. Religious Affections warns that zeal without love is counterfeit; Freedom of the Will reminds me that leaders remain morally responsible agents.³⁶³⁷ “Right intention” isn’t a slogan—it is charity governing the will.

3) Medieval consolidation: canonists, scholastics, and the crusading tension

The medievals tightened the bolts: Peace/Truce of God; Gratian’s Decretum; Aquinas on authority, cause, intention (ST II–II q.40) and, via self-defence (II–II q.64), discrimination and proportionality.⁴³ Russell’s history helps map how these limits took shape.²³ Use only the force the job truly requires; don’t spray the shed with shrapnel.

The Crusades still trouble me—penitence mingled with excess. Hanson helps me see how oath and honour could be catechised toward restraint.³² For narrative balance, I lean on Riley-Smith and Tyerman.²⁹³⁰ Edwards helps me test proportionality in the conscience: in True Virtue, love never treats persons as mere means; remedies must not exceed the disease.³⁹ If wrath or vainglory drives the arm, the cause is already compromised.

4) Reformations: divergent vocations

Luther and Calvin teach me to separate private revenge from public office. I, as a Christian, may not retaliate; yet a magistrate may act to shield the neighbour—like an SES crew bringing down a dangerous gum before it crushes a home. Peace churches keep the nonviolent witness alive; I need that reminder too (see Barclay).²⁰

Hanson’s citizen-soldier shows why ordered civic service made sense to the Reformers.³¹ Edwards presses the inner question: Charity and Its Fruits pictures love that “seeketh not her own.”³⁸ So even when office requires force, the Christian intention must be benevolent—to protect the many, end the harm, and stop as soon as a just peace is reachable.

5) Salamanca to the early modern law of nations

Vitoria and Suárez sharpen the checklist I carry: last resort, proportionality, protection of innocents, limits on occupation.⁵⁶ Grotius translates the moral grammar into a law of nations; Pufendorf and Vattel extend it.⁷⁸⁹ I’m grateful theology found legal teeth; Tuck and Neff trace that bridge from theology to jurisprudence.²⁴²⁵

Hanson sits in the background again: where civic institutions already train people in oath and accountability, restraint can move from paper to practice.³² Edwards keeps me aiming at the highest end. The End for Which God Created the World sets the telos: God’s glory expressed in an ordered love of neighbour.⁴⁰ Any policy that forgets persons as image-bearers drifts off the line.

6) Eighteenth–nineteenth centuries: moral theology and humanitarian law

This is where the pastoral manuals and pulpit voices come into their own—because they speak to apprentices, farmers, mechanics, and soldiers in plain terms.

• William Paley, Principles: necessity not glory; condemn aggression; public declaration, good faith, kept treaties; measure the true public good.¹²
• Francis Wayland, Elements: ad bellum—defence or clear injury, last resort, intention of peace, probability of success; in bello—noncombatant immunity, proportional means, humane POW treatment, truthful negotiation.¹³
• Richard Baxter, Christian Directory: wars rare, defensive, oath-bound conscience; soldiers forbidden cruelty and plunder.¹⁴
• Jeremy Taylor, Ductor Dubitantium: right intention, good faith, mercy, and the sacredness of oaths.¹⁵
• Alphonsus Liguori, Theologia Moralis: classic limits under the fifth commandment; proportionality, last resort, and noncombatant care.¹⁶
• Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology: magistrates and defensive war; beware national aggrandizement.¹⁷
• Thomas Chalmers, sermons: exposes the moral cost of crusading passions; underscores last resort and proportionality.¹⁸
• John Wesley, sermons/journals: truthfulness, mercy, prayer for rulers; test policy by the impact on the poor.¹⁹
• Robert Barclay, Apology: peace-church witness that keeps my brakes firm.²⁰

On the ground, these counsels harden into law: the Lieber Code (1863) embeds discrimination, proportionality, and humane treatment; the Red Cross (1863) and First Geneva Convention (1864) put a visible sign to mercy.¹⁰¹¹ Best surveys how such norms matured.²⁶ Hanson’s cross-period point lands here: law endures when soldiers and citizens are formed to keep it—oath, drill, command responsibility.³⁴³⁵ Edwards supplies the interior ballast: Religious Affections demands sincerity; True Virtue insists the good of the whole outruns the passions of the few.³⁶³⁹

The criteria—explained for the workshop and the paddock

Jus ad bellum (When to fight)

1. Legitimate authority: Only the rightly authorised act—no private vendettas. (Augustine; canon law; Hanson’s lawful muster; Paley on public declaration; Baxter/Taylor on oaths.)^1431121415
2. Just cause: Defend against aggression or halt grave injustice—shield the vulnerable, don’t seize advantage. (Paley rejects wars for glory/commerce; Hodge limits to defence.)¹²¹⁷
3. Right intention: Seek a just peace; motives sifted by love (Edwards’ affections), not rage or glory. (Wayland: intention of peace; Taylor/Wesley: purity of purpose.)^36131519
4. Last resort: Try every other tool first—diplomacy, sanctions, patient forbearance. (Wayland; Chalmers’ cautions.)¹³¹⁸
5. Probability of success: Don’t start what you can’t responsibly finish. (Wayland’s prudence; Hodge’s sobriety.)¹³¹⁷
6. Proportionality (ends): The good aimed at must outweigh foreseeable harms (Aquinas; Edwards’ ordered love; Liguori and Paley on public-good calculus).^3391612

Jus in bello (How to fight)

1. Discrimination: Protect non-combatants; strike only legitimate military targets. (Aquinas by implication; Wayland explicitly; Liguori pastorally; Lieber/Geneva in code.)^313161011
2. Proportionality (means): Use no more force than necessary—precision over scatter. (Aquinas; Wayland; Baxter against cruelty and plunder.)³¹³¹⁴
3. Good faith/humane treatment: Keep promises; treat prisoners and the wounded as image-bearers (Paley on treaties/truth; Liguori on mercy; Lieber/Geneva in law).^12161011

A personal word: Sandakan, Arthur Chapman, and the weight of jus in bello (How to fight)

My grandfather’s death on the Sandakan death march sits in the middle of this for me. Whatever uniforms are worn, God’s moral law and the Christian discipline are clear: prisoners must be fed, sheltered, protected, and treated humanely. Forcing starved, sick men to walk toward death violates discrimination, proportionality, and good faith—restraints hammered out across centuries and present already in nineteenth-century codes.¹⁰¹¹ Edwards helps me say why this is not only unlawful but unloving: such cruelty flows from disordered affections, not benevolence to the whole.³⁶³⁹ Paley would call it a betrayal of public faith; Wayland would name it passion ungoverned by principle; Baxter would rebuke the cruelty; Liguori would bind consciences to mercy.^12131416 The just-war tradition doesn’t soften the verdict; it sharpens it—so that I can say, in grief and truth, this was evil, and vow to bind my life to the love that would have spared them.

Most Australians I’ve served—fitters, electricians, stockmen, truck drivers—carry a fair-go instinct and look after their mates. The just-war tradition baptises that instinct with Scripture and hard-won wisdom. It doesn’t bless war; it brakes it. On site we say, Do the job only if it must be done; do it safely; and knock off the moment it’s done. Hanson reminds me that culture and training make those brakes work.^31323435 Edwards reminds me that love is the foot that presses the pedal.³⁶³⁹ Paley teaches me to keep faith and count the public cost; Wayland hands me a usable checklist; Baxter/Taylor/Liguori/Hodge/Wesley/Chalmers keep my conscience awake.^{1213141516171918} Courage harnessed to charity, power serving peace, and hands ready to bind wounds—even of an enemy—once the danger is past. In memory of my grandfather Arthur and the men of the Sandakan death march, I want to be the kind of Christian—and the kind of citizen—who insists on restraint, trains for mercy, and seeks peace with courage.

Conclusion

The pre-1900 just war tradition does not glamorise conflict; it disciplines it. Read from the shed and the paddock, its wisdom sounds like good site practice: act only under proper authority, repair the wrong you must, keep your motives clean, choose the least force that will do the job, protect bystanders, and stop the moment peace is responsibly secured. Augustine and Aquinas give the frame; Salamanca and the law of nations give the tools; pastors like Paley and Wayland make it usable for ordinary people; Hanson reminds me that culture and training help the rules hold under fire; Edwards tests my heart so that love remains the governor of power. Remembering Sandakan, I carry this tradition not as theory but as a vow: to seek peace, to restrain force, and to honour every person as an image-bearer of God.