The conflict between Israel and Hamas embodies a complex interplay of historical and political factors alongside philosophical and ethical considerations. The visible manifestations of violence are underpinned by profound disagreements on the nature of justice, the essence of statehood, the legitimacy of resistance versus occupation, and the notion of victimhood. Hamas views Palestinians as victims of colonial oppression, justifying their violent resistance as a means of opposition. Conversely, Israel perceives itself as a victim too, justifying its illegal occupation and territorial expansion.
Through the prism of war ethics, International Humanitarian Law (IHL) offers a framework for evaluating the conduct of both parties. While IHL provides a legal framework for assessing hostilities, ethical scrutiny within this framework unveils deeper truths. It reveals that wars not only manifest in visible atrocities but also initiate a sphere of conceptual disruption, with the idea of “innocence” being significantly impacted among various concepts. Yet, there’s potential that an ethical exploration through IHL can elucidate the nuanced facets of innocence, thereby facilitating a more informed navigation of war ethics.
On the surface, IHL may seem merely a legalistic framework delineating the dos and don’ts of warfare, often perceived as a codified list attempting to instill order in the inherently chaotic realm of armed conflicts. However, delving into its foundational principles reveals IHL to be a profound embodiment of human values and ethics. IHL resonates with the universality of human dignity and the sanctity of life. Wars often arise from deep-rooted disagreements, divergent ideologies, or territorial disputes, yet IHL presents a counter-narrative: amidst these divisions, there lies a strong thread of shared humanity that binds us all. This common bond becomes especially poignant in adversity, suggesting that even in confrontations, an unarticulated recognition of mutual respect and value persists. This is not to argue that IHL is the sole or even the primary vehicle for such ethical reflections, but that it serves as a formal expression of deeper ethical commitments intrinsic to our shared humanity.
This inherent value of human life prompts the critical distinctions outlined in IHL. The distinction between combatants and non-combatants extends beyond a mere strategic or tactical classification; it is an ethical assertion that acknowledges the “innocence” of those not directly participating in hostilities, emphasizing their moral and legal right to protection. By doing so, it urges the actors of war to rise above their immediate objectives and recognize the broader moral landscape in which they operate. Yet, does a clear understanding of what constitutes innocence exist?
The idea of “innocence” in the war presents a profound philosophical challenge. War disrupts our intuitive moral compass, blurring the delineation between complicit and innocent. This murkiness becomes evident when figures like Osama bin Laden suggest that electoral choices render one complicit, thereby “not innocent.” In his “Letter to America” (2002), bin Laden, the founder of Al-Qaeda, writes that,
The American people have chosen, consented to, and affirmed their support for the Israeli oppression of the Palestinians, the occupation of their land, and its continuous killing, torture, punishment and expulsion of the Palestinians. … This is why the American people cannot be innocent of all the crimes committed by the Americans and Jews against us.
This claim is utterly wrong. It is both logically and conceptually incorrect. Voting certainly shouldn’t make someone a legitimate target.
However, Osama bin Laden is not alone in this interpretation. Rabbi David-Seth Kirshner (2014), former president of the New York Board of Rabbis, similarly denies that ordinary Palestinians killed by Israeli forces are innocent. He claims instead that they are combatants and legitimate targets because, through an election process, they aligned themselves with a “terrorist organization,” i.e., Hamas:
When you are part of an election process that asks for a terrorist organization which proclaims in word and in deed that their primary objective is to destroy their neighboring country and not to build schools or commerce or jobs, you are complicit and you are not a civilian casualty.
This position profoundly challenges traditional philosophical understandings of agency, culpability, and responsibility. When someone suggests that mere residence in Hamas-influenced areas removes one’s cloak of innocence, they’re not just making a political statement, but are grappling with deep-seated ethical paradigms.
As of 2023, the conflict between Israel and Hamas has escalated significantly. The ongoing hostilities have resulted in the loss of many innocent Israeli and Palestinian lives thus far. Despite these developments, the above discourse remains fraught, resonating from both sides of the conflict and even further complicated by statements from figures like Khaled Meshaal, the former Hamas leader, and Israel’s President Isaac Herzog, who recently blurred the IHL traditional distinction by labeling both combatants and non-combatants as enemies and casting the entire population of Gaza as complicit, respectively. When such figures negate the distinction between civilians and combatants, the philosophical underpinnings of innocence are jeopardized. These utterances not only challenge the foundational ethos of IHL but propel us into a profound philosophical inquiry: What constitutes innocence in a landscape where the required distinction is disintegrated? Are “harmless” or “not engaged in the business of war” insufficient descriptors to imply innocence? Are Palestinian children who throw stones at Israeli tanks considered ‘combatants’? An ability to cause ‘harm’ might be dangerously ambiguous in terms of extent, and Israeli authorities seem to exploit this to justify actions that others—by IHL—might characterize as targeting civilians. The situation reflects a wider ideological clash that extends beyond the immediate conflict, delving into identity, statehood, and existential struggle. Nonetheless, there is a pressing need for comprehensive education on war ethics for politicians, commanders, combatants, and other involved parties.
Claims of this nature, particularly when contrasted with conventional war ethics, highlight the complex and often contentious interplay between collective and individual responsibilities. This tension becomes notably amplified in large-scale conflicts, where the actions of a few can resonate broadly. Moreover, in an era of globalization, where actions often have repercussions transcending borders, the notion of innocence becomes increasingly complex. When a nation or group engages in acts perceived as aggressive or unjust, to what degree can its citizens be held morally accountable, especially when they may have had no direct involvement or even awareness of such decisions?
The position that entire communities or nations can be deemed complicit based on the actions of a few undermines moral justice by oversimplifying the multifaceted nature of human societies, where dissent, diversity of opinion, and varying levels of political engagement coexist. To hold all accountable is to disregard these nuances and to venture down a path that can readily justify widespread harm under the guise of retribution. Although one might argue that individuals, by virtue of their political or social affiliations, share in the collective responsibility for the actions of their communities, a more nuanced approach, recognizing the moral agency of individuals, aligns better with the ethical foundations of IHL, promoting a more just assessment of innocence and culpability in conflict settings.
War blurs the line between complicity and innocence. Philosophical introspection compels us to evaluate these terms beyond their superficial understanding. Blanket attributions of culpability, often leading to collective punishment, undermine the essence of individual responsibility and moral agency. When we suggest that entire communities or nations can be deemed complicit based on the actions of a few, we overlook the multifaceted nature of human societies. To say that such blanket attributions undermine the essence of moral justice is to argue that it denies the complex interplay of individual and collective responsibilities inherent in human societies. It’s essential to understand that these broad generalizations erode the moral fabric of society. Treating individuals as moral agents, capable of independent thought and action, rather than mere extensions of their affiliations or geographies, upholds the very essence of moral justice by recognizing their capacity for moral agency.
By adhering to IHL, parties in conflict fundamentally affirm every individual’s inherent worth and dignity, even amidst hostility. This doesn’t mean that IHL is the sole solution, but it does act as a bridge between the ethical commitments we hold and their expression in the midst of conflict. For entities like Israel and Hamas, mired in mistrust and historical animosities, re-evaluating the understanding of innocence through the ethical underpinnings of IHL presents a path forward, emphasizing the imperative of distinguishing between combatants and non-combatants based on a more nuanced moral framework.
Embracing IHL can serve as a catalyst for negotiation and the exploration of shared truths. Through genuine dialogue, adversaries can discover common ground, shared aspirations and perhaps a route to enduring peace. Highlighting this point is essential, as our commitments to IHL can rapidly erode in times of desperation. Our cognitive biases and tribal prejudices emerge when faced with crises (e.g., 9/11, and recent attacks in Israel), allowing our primal instincts to prevail. IHL can be viewed as a corrective measure to formalize and reaffirm our dedication to human rights and dignity.
Hossein Dabbagh
Hossein Dabbagh is an assistant professor in applied ethics at Northeastern University London. His research interests extend to political philosophy and public policy. He is the author of The Moral Epistemology of Intuitionism: Neuroethics and Seeming States (2022).
An interesting essay, with some logical and rhetorical errors. First, the IHL is a legal and not an ethical document. Trying to apply ethical rules to such a document is an error. The law constitutes a separate way of logical thinking, and involves compromises not found in ethics. Second, the author betrays his prejudices when he includes unfounded premises such as this: “mere residence in Hamas-influenced areas.” The fact is that the residents of Gaza voted Hamas into office. This can now be seen as a terrible mistake. But starting a war can also be seen as a terrible mistake. Actions have consequences. If the people of Gaza did not want to suffer the consequences of war, they should not have started one. This position provides them the agency that the author says has been taken away from them. While it is true that “parties in conflict fundamentally affirm every individual’s inherent worth and dignity,” they also have the power to make terrible mistakes. Even if their agency had been taken from them in an act of paternalism (which the author seems to want), they could not have been prevented from starting this war. At points, the author wants to individualize the Palestinians in Gaza. But at the same time, much current discussion is of the aspirations of the Palestinian people and Gazan people. Can the author have it both ways? He provides a hypothetical, “to what degree can its citizens be held morally accountable, especially when they may have had no direct involvement or even awareness of such decisions?” But most indications, especially seen in videos of celebrating ordinary Gazans when Israeli hostages were paraded and abused in the streets of Gaza, are that they had direct involvement and approved of warlike and unethical decisions.
In universities you head to the philosophy department to study ethics. One trick to avoiding loosing your job by taking a position on this situation is to relegate the discussion to the law department. Many people have argued that, historically, the zeal for analytic philosophy has to do with this sort of non-involvement strategy (I am thinking about John McCumber’s “Philosophy in the Ditch.”) Alternatively, people like Judith Butler, for example, actually do take positions. At least the American Philosophical Association had one article on, perhaps, the greatest massacre in our time. The word “genocide” is a term that comes up in international law, and the case is fairly straightforward, with a catalogue of genocidal statements from Israeli leadership which establishes intent. I will spare the readers the details, but Craig Mokhiber who resigned from the UN lays it all out.
Our common hero Socrates was willing to drink hemlock to defend his positions. He also had a rich concept of courage. As university presidents are made to step down and other professionals loose their jobs, only solidarity will address this crisis. As far as stating that the people of Gaza are targets for collective punishment as the previous commenter argued, this is a war crime. Under international law, occupied people have a right to armed resistance. Israel does not have a right to cut off water, food, electricity, destroy desalination plants, wastewater treatment facilities, crops, graveyards, hospitals, UN facilities, ambulances, 3 universities, and on and on and on and on.
If you want to then doubt the Geneva conventions, etc., I think this would place the West into complicity given how the veto has been endlessly used in the Security council to prevent a ceasefire, along side the direct funding of Israel by the US of billions of dollars in military aid, let alone the public embrace Biden gave Netanyahu while the killing is happening.
The zionist lobby has been exposed to the general public. It’s anti-democratic and in many cases illegal, as the New York Times pointed out when they covered the story that not one but two senate candidates were offered 20 million dollars to run against US-Palestinian congresswoman Rashida Tlaib.
We judge Heidegger for his involvement, his complicity with the Nazi party. But we don’t throw his work away. This is a good thing. Let’s not all be Heideggers at this moment. Let us turn to the courage of the Bertrand Russells in our shared tradition. Your former APA president of 1979, Richard Rorty, believed in solidarity — he believed in standing awkwardly with student protestors. There are now requests from administrators to destroy the careers of students who are protesting.
Erin McKenna and Scott L. Pratt’s book “American Philosophy: From Wounded Knee to Present,” weaves together a history of resistance that places Indigenous intellectuals in common with female suffrage, labour movements, civil rights activists, and the pragmatist tradition. This form of struggle stands against the lobbies that undo the democratic institutions that such interest groups incessantly attempt to dismantle. James Tully’s recent collection of essays by various contributors titled “Democratic Multiplicity,” is built on his earlier work “Public Philosophy in a New Key.” This sort of positioning of practical involvement asks us theorists to get down on all fours and transform the ideas of our forebears into real projects that impact actual communities. It is not that we do not have the tools to intervene in productive ways. We must care for these tools by putting them to use, as the people who contributed essays to that volume have done.
Step out of the tower and do your duty. This is what will be meaningful.