The Order of War

I assume the definitions of ‘power’ and ‘authority’ here.

Just war is, in a sense, power applied to bring social order out of social disorder. War is understood to involve at least two contrary powers. In order for war to be possible, there must be an order to which both powers actually belong.

An analogy to war is competitive sports, in which two opposing teams compete against each other. Each team tries to accomplish two goals at once; to score points against its opponent and to prevent its opponent from scoring points against itself. There are intrinsic and extrinsic common goods proper to each team: Individual athletes must work well together as a team, and they all share in their team’s victories. There are, however, common goods proper to the sport in general; goods in which all teams share even as they compete against each other.

With respect to the intrinsic common goods of the sport, if there were no rules of play, then there would be no game; and, if it were not assumed that both teams would honor the rules equally, then competition would not be possible. As for the extrinsic goods of the game (the goods for which those who compete), were there none to be enjoyed, there would be no purpose for playing.

War is similar in the sense that there is an extrinsic common good that is supposedly exclusive to one party in the conflict: viz., the terms of victory and the driving motives for declaring war. However, if there were no fundamental order that was shared by all opposing forces, there would be no war: It would at most look like war, but would more appropriately be called suppression or interdiction if done well; a riot or massacre if not.

So, what is the order that enables man to wage war? Primarily, man desires to live and to live well. War is waged on this assumption; that death and needless suffering is to be avoided. However, peoples wage war by means of those who actively risk death and suffering on their behalf: The essence of a warrior is to undergo such risk for the sake of victory.

The relation between the warrior and the authority which empowers him to wage war implies the common nature of victory: Even fallen warriors can share victory. However, the good to which the warrior consecrates himself is greater than the admittedly thin consolation of posthumous victory and honor. If it were not the case that the warrior’s risk is itself a testament to the greatness of his cause, a good that encompasses his whole community, then military service should have no honor attached to it. In other words, if individual life and prosperity is the greatest good to which a man can aspire; if the commonweal is nothing greater than the totality of individual goods; or if the warrior’s moral calculus simply means gambling his life for a greater number of potential beneficiaries, then the warrior is reckless by nature, because such an outcome is far from certain. Rather, it is more likely that not only the warrior suffer, but the whole nation.

The nature of war includes sacrifice for a higher good, viz. the peace and order of the nations involved.

Thoughts on Civic Liturgy

 The Catholic Encyclopedia describes the archeology of liturgy as follows:

At Athens the leitourgia was the public service performed by the wealthier citizens at their own expense, such as the office of gymnasiarch, who superintended the gymnasium, that of choregus, who paid the singers of a chorus in the theatre, that of the hestiator, who gave a banquet to his tribe, of the trierarchus, who provided a warship for the state. The meaning of the word liturgy is then extended to cover any general service of a public kind. In the Septuagint it (and the verb leitourgeo) is used for the public service of the temple (e.g., Exodus 38:27; 39:12, etc.). Thence it comes to have a religious sense as the function of the priests, the ritual service of the temple (e.g., Joel 1:9, 2:17, etc.). In the New Testament this religious meaning has become definitely established. In Luke 1:23, Zachary goes home when "the days of his liturgy" (ai hemerai tes leitourgias autou) are over. In Hebrews 8:6, the high priest of the New Law "has obtained a better liturgy", that is a better kind of public religious service than that of the Temple.

So in Christian use liturgy meant the public official service of the Church, that corresponded to the official service of the Temple in the Old Law.(1)

The liturgy of the New Law is primarily indicative of the Celebration of the Eucharist (called the Sacrifice of the Mass in the Roman Rite, and the Divine Liturgy in the Eastern Rites). There are several important aspects of this perfect and sacred Liturgy: It has four ends, viz. adoration, thanksgiving, propitiation, and petition; all members of the Church participate in it, though only the Priest alone is its minister; and the Eucharist, as Pope St. Paul VI says, "contains the entire spiritual boon of the Church, that is, Christ Himself, our Pasch and Living Bread, by the action of the Holy Spirit through His very flesh vital and vitalizing, giving life to men who are thus invited and encouraged to offer themselves, their labors and all created things, together with Him."(2)

With the Sacred Liturgy as the perfect model, we can define liturgy in general according to certain essential characteristics: It is a ritual, performed on behalf of a community, which is at once the expression of a common good of that community, and is a common good itself. These characteristics are entirely possible to achieve on a natural level, in what I shall term 'civic liturgy'. 

So, setting aside the supernatural economy of grace made known in the revelation of Divine Law, what does civic liturgy look like?

We have examples of civic liturgy from the world and from history. The simplest and most common is the parade: Its purpose is usually to commemorate some event, honor a holiday, or to celebrate a personal achievement that has redounded to the benefit of the community (e.g. the Roman Triumph). In any event, a parade is always held for a reason, and that reason often assumes the parade itself: The anniversary of a nation's founding, for instance, is established as a commemorative festival; the parade commemorates the event, and becomes a part of the event. Parades also follow a set ritual, albeit a very simple one; the members of a parade march or process down a public avenue. Moreover, parades are held for the community, though not every member of the community is a part of the parade; yet it would be absurd to hold a parade without a spectating public. Hence, there is common participation, though relatively few liturgical "ministers."

The distinction between participant and minister is more drastic in liturgies wherein one assumes public office. The most extravagant and fitting example is the coronation, though any ritual in which a citizen is sworn into office is certainly liturgical. The ritual aspect is essential to these events. Precise actions must be performed for the purpose of the liturgy to be consummated: A hand is raised, words are recited, a crown is donned, etc. It is obvious that these rituals are performed for the good of the community. By such a ritual, a leader is appointed and the ritual is the appointment: The common good is expressed through the ritual, and the common good contains the ritual. Moreover, the entire community participates in this ritual insofar as they are implicated in it: Their leader is appointed, and the order of the community in which they share is continued.

A third example of civic liturgy is the award ceremony; usually academic, military, or occupational. Such ceremonies celebrate the achievement of an individual insofar as it has served the common good of his community (e.g. a medal of merit or Nobel prize), or has elevated the mode by which he participates in the community (e.g. a school graduation or military promotion).

Is civic liturgy needed under the reign of Christ? All of the above examples, and indeed any civic liturgy that is originally secular are, simply put, celebrations of the highest natural goods. As such, they are good in their own right; they affirm a good to which we are ordered by nature and which we receive ultimately from God, Who is the source of all good. Civic liturgy, then, is not competitive with Christian liturgy, because it belongs to a different "tier," as it were. Even so, any civic, secular liturgy can be "baptized," and history provides us with countless examples of Christianized civic liturgies.

Unfortunately, the popular sense and understanding of liturgy is weak. Just as the Divine Liturgy is mocked by "neo-pagan" or satanic "masses" which invert the purpose and significance of sacred liturgy, there are perversions of civic liturgies which express not the common good of the community, but its affliction and fragmentation. Examples of such perversions can be seen in "pride parades," which are more like a foreign army's show of force in a conquered city than they are a common celebration of a shared good (albeit even a conquering army expresses a good that is intrinsic to its own community, despite offense to the native public), and certain awards ceremonies (such as the Academy of Motion Pictures Awards) which are focused on individual achievements specifically to the exclusion of others.

Nevertheless, the proliferation of  (good) liturgical practice can increase the goods which those liturgies express. Just as a healthy body rejoices in its health by engaging in physical activities which in turn contribute to its good health, so too is a healthy community replete with ritual expressions which spur its members to participate more fully in their community.

(1) Fortescue, Adrian. "Liturgy." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 9. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1910. 5 Sept. 2020 <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09306a.htm>.

(2) Presbyterorum Ordinis, 5.

Ethics, Politics, and the Common Good

Aristotle identifies politics as the chief architectonic science, as it deals with the ultimate end of human life. Yet this description is given at the beginning of the Ethics. Indeed, ethics and politics are intimately connected. In order to understand this relation fully, we must determine how they are distinct with regard to their origin, method, and end. Once properly distinguished, the conclusion follows that politics makes use of the principles of ethics, but for a greater and more noble end, the common good.

Ethics
In beginning of the Ethics, Aristotle discusses the ultimate end of man:

If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which we desire for its own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of this), and if we do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for at that rate the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire would be empty and vain), clearly this must be the good and the chief good[...] We must try, in outline at least, to determine what it is, and of which of the sciences or capacities it is the object. It would seem to belong to the most authoritative art and that which is most truly the master art. And politics appears to be of this nature… (NE I.2)

Aristotle then lays out the method of this “most authoritative art” and concludes the first part of the Ethics with a brief discussion of the “chief good.” The chief good is the end of ethics, so ethics may be defined as “the art which is pursued for the sake of man’s ultimate end.” Sometimes Aristotle calls ethics an art, sometimes a science. This dual characterization is possible because ethics is a practical science.
The sciences are divided into the speculative and the practical. The speculative sciences are pursued for the sake of knowledge itself, and thus do not have their end in operation. For example, mathematics is a speculative science, because the process and the conclusions of mathematics are inoperative: That is, perfect mathematics does not involve praxis. The method of the speculative sciences is resolutory, which means that knowledge proceeds from effect to cause, resolving complex truths into simple truths. For example, the mathematician may deduce a single function from a complex set of discrete data.
The practical sciences, on the other hand, are ordered to operation. For example, carpentry involves a method and acquisition of knowledge, but carpentry is not complete if it does not involve the activity of making things from wood. The method of the practical sciences is compository, which means that they proceed from simple to complex truths. For example, a carpenter, knowing that the height of a 45-degree angle is identical to its width, discerns the correct pitch of a roof and decides to cut the webs at equal lengths.
Ethics is a science that is, in a sense, both speculative and practical, and therefore its method is variable. In ethics, one may resolve complex truths into the simple, such as when one derives from the relationship of persons the principle of justice. But the speculative aspect of ethics is subordinated to the practical: That is, the principles derived in ethics must be put into practice in particular cases. In other words, ethics is not complete if it is not practiced, and so it is primarily a practical science. Therefore, ethics is a science insofar as it involves the attainment of knowledge, and an art insofar as this knowledge is put into practice.
Every art is done for some end, and the end of ethics is happiness. Aristotle defines happiness as, “an activity in accordance with virtue,” especially “the highest virtue… of the best part in us.” We know that the intellect is the best part of man because it is by his intellect that he participates in the natural law and is able to become virtuous at all. Moreover, the intellect is what distinguishes man apart from the other animals; it is the intellect which is the most human part of him. Thus the activity of the intellect, which is the contemplation of truth, is man’s greatest happiness, and the end of the virtuous life.

Politics
So, how does politics differ from ethics? Aristotle notes in the beginning of the Politics: “Observation shows us, first, that every polis is a species of association, and, secondly, that all associations come into being for the sake of some good -- for all men do all their acts with a view to achieving something which is, in their view, a good.” Therefore, as the good is the end of ethics, the good of the community is the end of politics.
The method of political science is also similar to that of ethics. Politics is a practical science, as St. Thomas explains, “since the practical sciences are distinguished from the speculative sciences in that the speculative sciences are ordered exclusively to the knowledge of the truth, whereas the practical sciences are ordered to some work, [politics] must be comprised under practical philosophy, inasmuch as the city is a certain whole that human reason not only knows but also produces.”
Because politics is a practical science, its method is therefore, like ethics, compository. Thomas explains, “since human reason has to order not only the things that are used by man but also men themselves, who are ruled by reason, [politics] proceeds in either case from the simple to the complex.” However, though the method of politics as a science is similar to that of ethics, the practice of politics as an art is quite different. Because it is ordered not to the happiness of one person, but to the happiness of the whole community, it is necessary to have political activity beyond the scope of ethics.
Aristotle notes that most men are not capable of pursuing a moral education because they are not well disposed to practice virtue by their own inclination. And, though a man be eager to pursue the good, and learns how he might attain it, he will not attain the good until he acts. Likewise, St. Thomas observes:

A man needs to receive this training from another, whereby to arrive at the perfection of virtue. And as to those young people who are inclined to acts of virtue, by their good natural disposition, or by custom, or rather by the gift of God, paternal training suffices, which is by admonitions. But since some are found to be depraved, and prone to vice, and not easily amenable to words, it was necessary for such to be restrained from evil by force and fear, in order that, at least, they might desist from evil-doing, and leave others in peace, and that they themselves, by being habituated in this way, might be brought to do willingly what hitherto they did from fear, and thus become virtuous. Now this kind of training, which compels through fear of punishment, is the discipline of laws. Therefore in order that man might have peace and virtue, it was necessary for laws to be framed… (ST Ia-IIae, q.95, a.1)

Hence the activity of political art has two chief characteristics; the didactic, which educates citizens in virtue, and the coercive, which disciplines citizens in the practice of virtue.

Law
This dual activity of politics is called government, and is done by way of legislation (the creation of laws). Law in general has four essential characteristics; it is “[1] an ordinance of reason [2] for the common good, [3] made by him who has care of the community, and [4] promulgated.” The natural law governs all moral activity, as it is the rational creature’s participation in the Eternal law. Politics, however, makes use of human law.
The human law manifests the dual method of moral science; its resolutory derivation of principles and compository application to particular cases. As Thomas explains:

Something may be derived from the natural law in two ways: first, as a conclusion from premises, secondly, by way of determination of certain generalities. The first way is like to that by which, in sciences, demonstrated conclusions are drawn from the principles: while the second mode is likened to that whereby, in the arts, general forms are particularized as to details[…] Accordingly both modes of derivation are found in the human law. But those things which are derived in the first way, are contained in human law not as emanating therefrom exclusively, but have some force from the natural law also. But those things which are derived in the second way, have no other force than that of human law. (ST Ia-IIae, q.95, a.2)

Thus, the human law is a rational participation in the natural law, and is therefore an ordinance of reason.
But, while the natural law is a participation in the eternal law promulgated by God, the human law is promulgated by human authority. Thus there is a distinction between ethics and politics in its relationship to authority. The man who acts virtuously obeys the natural law from God. But citizens are also bound to obey laws that are enacted by human authority in the art of politics. Human authority participates in God’s authority insofar as it derives its principles from the natural law and seeks to attain the end for which the natural law itself is promulgated.

The Common Good
Ethics and politics are further distinguished in their relation to the end for which all law is promulgated. Ethics instructs man in virtue, the end of which is his own happiness. But because virtue is necessarily in accord with the natural law, it also contributes to the common good. Yet ethics is concerned with human acts and happiness simply. Politics, on the other hand, governs the whole community with the explicit end of attaining the common good. Therefore, the greatest distinction between ethics and politics is their relation to the common good. So, in order to understand this distinction well, the common good itself must be well understood.
The common good is called “common” because it is participatory. Strictly speaking, every good is common insofar as it is participatory, as Thomas says, “in the whole created universe there is not a good which is not such by participation.” This is not to say that there is no such thing as a “private good,” but that every good is ordered to some end, and to have a good is to participate in this order.
The common good is therefore defined as the good of the whole for which its parts are ordered. Because the common good is the end toward which its members participate, it is manifested primarily in the peace and order of its members. The most immediate example of the common good is the end of the domestic household; the peace and order of the family. For the peace of the family, the husband must provide for the good of his wife and children, the wife must care for her husband and children, and the children must respect one another and obey their parents. Each well-lived role has the character of virtue, and redounds to the happiness of each person, but the end of domestic virtue is not the happiness of any one person, but of the whole household.
Because all personal goods are ordered to the common good, the common good is better. The primacy of the common good over that of one person is summarized by Aristotle:

If the end is the same for a single man and for a state, that of the state seems at all events something greater and more complete whether to attain or to preserve; though it is worth while to attain the end merely for one man, it is finer and more godlike to attain it for a nation or for city-states. (NE I.2, 1094b)

The primacy of the common good over the personal is not quantitative but categorical. That is, the common good is not the total sum of all personal goods: A pie, for instance, is not the common good of all who have a slice, because each slice that is taken from the pie diminishes the good available to others. Rather, the common good only increases by added participation; as the citizens grow in number and virtue, so grows the peace and order of the city.
That the common good is greater and prior to personal good does not imply that the common good is detrimental to the person. As Aristotle explains, it is quite the contrary:

The city is prior in the order of nature to the family and the individual. The reason for this is that the whole is necessarily prior to the part. If the whole body is destroyed, there will not be a foot or a hand, except in the ambiguous sense… All things derive their essential character from their function and their capacity; and it follows that if they are no longer fit to discharge their function, we ought not to say that they are still the same things, but only that, by an ambiguity, they still have the same names. (Pol I.2, 1253a18)

That is, a single person cannot attain the good apart from the whole to which he is ordered. Man, being a political animal by nature, attains his good by participation in the community of which he is a part. As Charles De Koninck argues, the common good is in fact each man’s highest good:

The highest good of a man belongs to him not insofar as he is himself a certain whole in which the self is the principal object of his love, but "insofar as he is part of a whole," a whole which is accessible to him because of the very universality of his knowledge[…] Thus it is indeed as part that we are ordered to this greatest of all goods which can only be ours most completely through being communicable to others. (De Koninck, 30)

The community to which man is ordered is not limited to the civitas. There is a variety of common goods which exist in a hierarchy, as there is of particular goods, and the degree to which man participates in each good determines its greatness. Therefore, God Himself is the greatest common good, because man participates in God by virtue of his very being.

Objections to the Primacy of the Common Good
We will consider three objections against the common good’s primacy over the person. Firstly, though politics is necessary for the governance of the human community, the individual who is well disposed to contemplate needs no human governance. The contemplative man has attained moral excellence and is led by his own knowledge. Thus, it would seem that the act of contemplation falls outside the purview of politics. Secondly, while it is necessary to pursue virtue in communion with others, contemplation itself is a solitary act, and so the highest good for the person is not the common good. Thirdly, appeal might be made to the dignity of the person, which is primary to the common good on account of its inviolability. That is, the dignity of the human person cannot be violated for the sake of another good.
To the first objection, we respond that politics is necessary not only because many persons are ill-disposed to pursue virtue by their own inclination, but because participation is impossible without an external governing principle. The good of the whole, as its end, is external to whatever participates in it. For example, the good of a man, though it involves a well-functioning hand, is not limited to the good of the hand itself: A man’s good is external to the good of his hand, because his hand is ordered to the good of the whole man. Moreover, because the good of the whole man is external to that of his hand, his hand is incapable of attaining this external good of its own principle.
Therefore, even if every member of the community were perfect in virtue, an external governing principle would be necessary to attain peace and order, as Etienne Gilson summarizes:

This or that man’s reason, though qualified to guide his actions for his welfare, is not, therefore, qualified to shape them for the good of the community to which he belongs, and to subordinate them to it. Here is the basis of the exteriority, so far as the individual is concerned, of the principle which obliges his activity. Law, then, will express the demands of reason ordering the individual’s life in view of the common good of his group and speaking from the outside in the name of that group. (Gilson, 195)

The exteriority of the human law to each person is a reflection of the natural law from which it is derived. Man’s participation in the eternal law, while it orders him as a part of the Eternal law, is ordered to God Himself, who is external to man.
To the second objection, it should be noted that, though the end of ethics is the contemplation of Truth, contemplation is itself a special participation in the highest Good common to all things. Truth is not made private by man’s grasp of it. Though a solitary act by outward appearance, the activity of man’s intellect is itself a participation in the light of the Divine Intellect. Therefore, when one contemplates, he does not ascend from a good shared by the community to a noble personal good; rather, he ascends from a lesser common good to a greater common good.
To the third objection, we reply that personal dignity itself is derived from participation in the common good. Any attempt to elevate the singular person above the common good of which he is part only diminishes personal dignity, as De Koninck explains:

Through disordered love of singularity, one practically rejects the common good as a foreign good and one judges it to be incompatible with the excellence of our singular condition. One withdraws thus from order and takes refuge in oneself as though one were a universe for oneself, a universe rooted in a free and very personal act. One freely abdicates dignity as a rational creature in order to establish oneself as a radically independent whole. (De Koninck, 35)

To assert that personal dignity is something greater than its source is to say that the part, which is good insofar as it is ordered to the whole, is also good without the whole. This is absurd.

Conclusion
We may therefore conclude that ethics is not distinct from politics as an “individual” rule from a communal rule, but as the practical science of man’s good from the practical science of the common good. Ethics is ordered to the common good implicitly, and politics makes use of the principles of ethics in ordering man to the common good. Therefore, while ethics may be considered to be a “self-sufficient” science with respect to each person, it is essentially a part of politics.

Bibliography
Aristotle. Nichomachean Ethics. trans. David Ross. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Aristotle. Politics. trans. Ernest Barker. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995.

De Koninck, Charles. On the Primacy of the Common Good. 1997. At https://thomasaquinas.edu/pdfs/aquinas-review/1997/1997-dekoninck-common-good.pdf

Gilson, Etienne. Moral Values and the Moral Life: The Ethical Theory of St. Thomas Aquinas. trans. Leo Richard Ward. (reprint by Kessinger publishing).

Oesterle, John A. Ethics: The Introduction to Moral Science. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1957.

Thomas Aquinas. Commentary on the Nichomachean Ethics. trans. C.I. Litzinger, O.P. Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1964. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/Ethics.htm

Thomas Aquinas. Sententia Libri Politicorum. trans. Ernest L. Fortin and Peter D. O’Neill. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/Politics.htm

Thomas Aquinas. Summa Theologiae. trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Benziger bros., 1947. At https://dhspriory.org/thomas/summa/index.html.