What is the relation between moral goodness and intellectual insight? The modern assumption is that there is no connection, that ethics inhabits a different realm altogether from knowledge- a view that would have been incomprehensible to the great sages of both the ancient West (whether “Ecclesiastes” or Socrates) and the East (Buddha or Confucius). In the Hebrew Bible, for example, “the fool” is a moral category more than an intellectual one.
History is littered with examples of brilliant scientists, mathematicians, artists and musicians who inflicted deep misery on those who had to live with them and whose chauvinist or racist beliefs would shock us today. The Royal Society or the Nobel Committee do not look at the moral character of the individuals it chooses to reward for their intellectual achievements. A mathematician’s proof of a theorem is weighed on its own merits and not by any financial corruption or marital infidelity that may have given him his academic position. His personal character and relationships are fitting subjects for his biographer, not for evaluation in professional math journals. We can gratefully receive, as gifts of God’s common grace, the artistic creativity and scientific genius of men and women whom we would not care to present as moral exemplars for our children and societies.
However, can the absence of moral goodness leave unaffected any person’s claim to be a great theologian or moral philosopher?
This question was raised in a paper, written some forty years ago, by the Cambridge theologian-philosopher, Donald Mackinnon. He begins his paper with the examples of the outstanding logician Gottlob Frege- who was not only “a racialist of the most bigoted sort”, but “obsessively anti-Catholic as well as anti-Semitic” – and Gerhard Kittel, initiator of the widely-used Theological Wordbook of the New Testament and a noted authority on the text and historical context of the New Testament, who had no qualms about developing a theological apologia for the Nuremberg racial laws. He showed no remorse for his support for the Nazis after the war ended.
But the occasion for Mackinnon’s reflections was the “deeply disturbing” revelations concerning the celebrated German-American theologian, Paul Tillich, stemming from the pen of his wife, Hannah, and his personal friend, the psychiatrist Rollo May. Tillich fled to the USA as a refugee from Nazi tyranny, and established himself after the war as perhaps the most famous philosopher-theologian of the Anglo-American world. He emerges from his wife’s book as a man who used his intellectual charisma to attract women into his orbit and seduce them. He comes across as coldly cruel towards his wife. His children were also the victims of his wilful promiscuity. When Hannah in desperation sought divorce, he threw himself on the floor, begging her not to, and enlisting his friends to tell her that it would ruin his career. This was the author of a best-selling existential classic, Courage to Be. Mackinnon notes wryly: “Sadly, we must conclude that at that time the ‘courage to be’ of which Tillich wrote did not extend to risking his career, his status, his reputation, his security.”
Colleagues of mine in Singapore recently told me of how they had invited a well-known evangelical theologian from the U.S to visit Singapore for some public meetings that they planned to host. They were shocked when this man demanded U.S $2,000 as his fee for each talk, plus a business-class airfare. They had to revoke the invitation as they could not afford it. I was incensed when I heard this. My last “experience” of the same theologian was in a conference on reconciliation in South Korea, when he flew in just before the talk he was to give and flew out again after he had finished, not waiting to hear responses, leave alone listen to other peoples’ talks. I remember thinking at the time, “Typical academic prima donna”. I lost all interest in reading his books anymore.
Am I wrong to feel this distaste? No doubt he continues to have interesting and important things to say. And I don’t doubt that God continues to use us despite our moral flaws. But if theological and moral positions are not embodied in the lives of those who advocate them, why should we take them seriously?
I feel the same distaste over the cult of “apologetics” books and courses emanating from conservative American circles and marketed worldwide. More than the simplistic arguments, what troubles me is the profoundly unChristian style- inattention to context and history, caricatures of other viewpoints, self-promotion, the reduction of Christian witness to winning arguments, etc. Knowing a preacher’s political stance and what he does with his fees tells me more about his “Christianity” than any of his theological arguments. And I think I am not alone. It is why secularised young people are more likely to listen to Pope Francis explain what it means to be a Christian than to clever evangelical “apologists”.
In the early Church, before the onset of Christendom, those seeking baptism were given moral instruction (how they should live as Christians) before they were taught the doctrines of the faith. (See the last chapter of my book The Recovery of Mission, 1996). Church leaders assumed that people don’t think their way into a new way of living; rather, they lived their way into a new way of thinking. Some truths can only be perceived by people who live in a certain way.
Were they- and I- wrong? If so, I would welcome correction. But, if not, what are the implications for theological and spiritual formation?
Google’s unofficial boardroom motto is “Don’t be evil”. But how is “evil” understood by a company which surrendered information about its searchers to the US National Security Agency in 2010 but withdrew from China a year later complaining about that country’s state surveillance?
I have been reading a fascinating account of the Internet (Untangling the Web) by Aleks Krotoski, a journalist and academic researcher with the Oxford Internet Institute. I find many of her judgments well-balanced and thoughtful. She partakes neither in the “hype” about the web nor in the fear-mongering over its potential for evil. She reminds us that no technology is “neutral” but reflects the priorities, values, worldviews, and concerns of the human context in which it is developed.
She writes: “The truth is that software, from computer games to web services, from Amazon to Match.com, is suffused with the principles decreed by the context in which it is produced… Spaces like Facebook, places like Second Life or World of Warcraft and technologies like Google permit and discourage certain kinds of uses, and these are being designed by the people behind the machines. The ways in which these web services fulfil our needs to connect, play or search for information and products are coloured by their developers’ personal backgrounds, life circumstances, social circles, hometowns, financial wealth and many other things. We are critical of the news we read, the programmes we watch, the movies we see and the art we appreciate. We are aware that they are constructs of their creators. We can point to liberal newspapers and conservative TV. Yet we seem to forget that the web is a network that is entirely human-produced, and primarily created by people who live in a small area of Northern California.”
The web has become an indispensable part of our lives. We upload enormous amounts of personal information to the web, mostly to social networks and e-commerce, because it serve our needs and we cannot imagine the vastness of the potential audience who may have access to what we communicate and how they will use the information we share. Even what is not explicitly shared, such as indirect references to other people, events or groups, is stored in gigantic databases (called Big Data) where complicated pattern-matching and cross-referencing algorithms reveal connections that would otherwise have remained invisible. Bits of personal data extracted by a website or social media page for one purpose can easily be deployed by others for another purpose.
Surveillance is endemic to the new technologies that we use (or use us). People choose to carry mobile phones, even though the phones’ geolocation feature makes them prime tracking devices. Every click of the mouse, every webpage visited, every purchase on eBay or Amazon, every “like” button pressed on Facebook, leaves an information trail and builds up an online digital version of oneself that is open to commercial manipulation. When Wall Street puts a value on Facebook or Google, it is not for the services they provide, but for the data they collect and its worth to advertisers, among others.
Online, it is our friends (and not our enemies) who are likely to betray us- even if we ourselves are offline or very circumspect in how we enter our privacy settings. Your friends will have photos of you on their Facebook walls, and divulge information about how they saw you last night, or who they saw you with at that party, what you said about so-and-so at that seminar, or where you normally go on holiday. Websites and social media are increasingly connected with other, and mergers and acquisitions mean that what is shared on one site is now available to others all over the web. That’s why if you order roses for your girlfriend through one site, you will see ads for roses appearing on other sites you visit. If you are an American and express online how much you love hummus and Al Jazeera, you may not only see ads for Turkish and Lebanese restaurants appearing on your favourite websites, but you may have your home broken into by a FBI Swat team. Big Data poses an enormous threat to our civil liberties because it gives a disproportionate amount of control to machines.
Krotoski tells the story of how, in early 2012, a 15-year old girl’s shopping behaviour at the US chain Target told the computer system that she was pregnant. It automatically printed and sent coupons for maternity wear and baby toys to her home, where she still lived with her parents. The superstore divulged to her parents the news that she had not told them. Computers cannot replace people in interpreting data and knowing how to use –and not use- that data.
There is so much that is wonderful about the Internet- it is educative, useful, entertaining, lucrative, therapeutic, and fun. But, as the technology commentator Sue Halpern observes, while we were having fun, we happily and willingly have helped to create the greatest surveillance system ever imagined. “The free flow of information over the Internet, which serves us well, may serve others better. Whether this distinction turns out to matter may be the one piece of information the Internet cannot deliver.”
With each new communication technology, we are forced to renegotiate our personal and social boundaries because each new technology makes us vulnerable in a different way.
What reasons can we give for caring about these boundaries? And how do we stop colluding in our own exploitation?
WordPress informs me that this is my 100th Blog post. Isn’t it ironic to be congratulated by a machine just after having written about surveillance technology?
I have also been reflecting recently on C. S. Lewis’s famous essay on The Abolition of Man.
Today happens to be Lewis’s fiftieth death anniversary. I discovered Lewis in my first year as an undergraduate student, and by the time I had graduated from university I had read all his Christian essays, poems and books, including his science-fiction trilogy and the Narnia Chronicles. Only his letters (collected and annotated much later) and his academic work on medieval literature eluded my voracious appetite.
I “outgrew” Lewis, especially after returning to Sri Lanka and finding myself confronted by a wholly different set of intellectual and practical challenges. While I retain a huge admiration for his writings, I am bemused by the cult of veneration that has grown up around him in some part of the evangelical church in the USA. The very people who shun Roman Catholic hagiographies have turned Lewis into a modern-day evangelical saint. If he were alive today, would they invite this pipe-smoking, pub-crawling, beer-swilling Anglo-Catholic to speak in their churches or teach in their seminaries? I very much doubt it.
Further, Lewis would have poured scorn on “inerrantist” views of the Bible. He would also never have read Genesis 1 or Job or Jonah as literal history. As a student of literature, he had no problems with recognizing truth as conveyed by myth and fable, extended metaphor and story, wherever these are found in the biblical writings. He understood also the importance of Church tradition in reading Scripture. He didn’t subscribe to the ridiculous idea that the Holy Spirit disappeared in the Patristic era and the Middle Ages, only to re-appear in the Reformation and the Anglo-American revivals. His view of salvation was not ecclesio-centric but inclusive without being universalist. Is a desiccated Lewis being read in American evangelical circles today?
Of all his writings, the one that I return to regularly, after a day or an evening spent defending, arguing and commending the Christian faith to others, is a little poem called “The Apologist’s Evening Prayer”. I carry it in my Bible. I think it should be enshrined on the doors of all those churches and institutions that place too much emphasis on apologetics and preaching “techniques”:
“From all my lame defeats and oh! much more
From all the victories that I seemed to score
From cleverness shot forth on Thy behalf
At which, while angels weep, the audience laugh;
From all my proofs of Thy divinity
Thou, who wouldst give no sign, deliver me.
Thoughts are but coins, let me not trust, instead
Of Thee, their thin-worn image of Thy head.
From all my thoughts, even from my thoughts of Thee,
O Thou fair Silence, fall, and set me free.
Lord of the narrow gate and the needle’s eye,
Take from me all my trumpery lest I die.”
I began Blogging in February 2009 and my first post drew attention to the war crimes being committed by all sides in the closing weeks of Sri Lanka’s bloody war. Four years later, those events are coming back to haunt the ruling regime. The latter’s lavish attempt to showcase Sri Lanka on the international stage at the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting in Colombo last week failed miserably. The President’s smooth talk about post-war “development” was swept away by David Cameron, the British Prime Minister, who issued an ultimatum vis a vis a serious investigation of war crimes. The state-controlled media has fallen back on the usual rhetoric of “foreign conspiracy” and the hypocrisy and double standards practised by Western governments when it comes to talk of human rights abuses and war crimes.
I have said enough on my Blog about these hypocrisies and double standards, and the frustration we feel that Christians in the US and Europe are not more outspoken about these. At the same time, we are frustrated by large sections of the international media (and especially American TV channels like CNN and Fox) who, if they ever talk about Sri Lanka at all, narrowly focus on war crimes committed in the past and the lack of “ethnic reconciliation”. But the latter are only symptoms of the wider political malaise in which we find ourselves (nepotistic rule, emasculation of the judiciary, suppression of dissent and targeting of journalists and human rights activists) that I have chronicled, from time to time, on this Blog in recent years.
I often tell people that those who have had the biggest influence in my life are those, like Lewis, whom I never met. That is the simple power of the written word. It has an influence across space and time that the author never imagined possible. Lewis never travelled beyond the UK and Ireland. Perhaps the venerators of Lewis today can help us by wielding their pens (and computer keypads) as courageously as he did in exposing falsehoods, dispelling ignorance and opening up the imagination of their contemporaries to other societies/worlds that impinge on their own.
The continuing disclosures, thanks to Edward Snowden, of the global extent of American spying programs are faintly humorous. One would love to know, for instance, what possible benefits American governments have gained from ten years of listening in to Angela Merkel’s phone-calls, and how it has served the public interest (which, after all, is what governments are for)?
This is the kind of question that should be raised in the media, let alone in introductory university classes in moral philosophy. A truly fascinating question has to do with the central (and sometimes exclusive) place many ethicists and moral philosophers give to the notion of individual “autonomy”. This, it is often claimed, is what grounds the language of human rights. However, Ms. Merkel’s autonomy was in no way violated by the secret surveillance on her. She was not constrained or restricted in any way. And, yet, most of us sense that she was morally wronged. Is it possible to make sense of that sense of being wronged by invoking “autonomy”? Or does it require a robust notion of intrinsic personal dignity?
Wherever dignity is abused, trust decays and relationships suffer. Questions about dignity are what come to the fore in all discussions about technology. Does the development and use or this particular technology respect or diminish personal dignity? A broader question is an old one, but nevertheless one that takes us to the core of moral reasoning: does our capability to perform an action obligate us to do so? This is more than asking whether the end justifies the means. It is asking whether the means are all that exist.
It is technological development which lies at the heart of advanced economies. Technology carries a seductive momentum of its own; and in the absence of any countervailing social vision to the idolatries of “national security” and “economic growth”, how is it possible to resist that momentum, or even divert it towards greater goals? The NSA is a vast data-gathering bureaucracy. With its supercomputers and myriads of private security firms to which “intelligence” is outsourced, no single human being know what is going on. Assigning responsibility becomes difficult if not impossible. All we have is a vast impersonal system that assumes a life of its own as the technology it has developed takes over the mindless quest towards absolute security.
These questions about technology move us beyond the politics of “right” and “left” which have been largely irrelevant in the advanced economies. Technology is no longer about gadgets and machines. It is a totalizing system, the environment in which the citizens of these countries (and any of influenced by the forces of globalization) conduct their lives. We are all cyborgs now; not in the biological sense of carrying devices implanted within us, but in the functional or cultural sense of being totally dependent on devices all the time (try going for 24 hours without a wristwatch, cell-phone, car or computer). Technologies shape and control us more than, it seems, we do them.
George Orwell’s Big Brother metaphor and Jeremy Bentham’s Panopticon are often mentioned in discussions on surveillance. But I suggest that a more fitting image to describe the NSA comes from the novels of Franz Kafka, particularly The Trial and The Castle. Writing a generation or so before Orwell, Kafka hauntingly depicted the helplessness and uncertainty experienced by the individual before an all-encompassing, faceless bureaucracy. The system has grown to such proportions that the boundary between human and machine has disappeared. Bureaucracy and technology are thus intimately linked. Both exalt the spirit of techne, the reduction of life and work to rule-following behaviour.
I mentioned, in my last Blog post, the frustrating experience of obtaining visas to rich countries, where the entire process is “outsourced” to intermediaries. The latter are taught to blindly follow a set of procedures in dealing with applications but cannot respond to individuals in exceptional situations. Nothing would be missed if these intermediaries were to be replaced by robots, and that is probably how things will develop, given the cost-cutting ambitions of Western governments today. It is not surprising that the Pentagon is pouring huge sums into the production of robots and drones for battle field use- the ideal soldier of the future will be another Adolf Eichmann, but made of electronic circuits not blood vessels.
I write this on the day the Indian Space Agency has launched a satellite to Mars. It is the latest manifestation of the Indian technocratic elite’s infantile understanding of what makes for a “Superpower”. While India’s Constitution is liberal and democratic, its politicians and military-industrial establishment share the same mind-set as the North Korean regime when it comes to national priorities.
India is a country rich in innovative talent, but “imitating the West” is what the middle-classes aspire to in their consumption habits. There are plenty of amazing technical inventions that the poor in India have come up with and which could be marketed around the world (See http://www.ted.com/speakers/anil_gupta.html). But thinking “outside the box” is not the long suit of India’s military-funded technologists; so much easier to be propelled along by the momentum of a politics that identifies “national prestige” with imitating hi-tech US industries.
Once again, the “why” questions get buried under the “how”.
Australia is a strange country. Vast in size, small in population; and yet its recent elections were dominated by the theme of preventing refugees and asylum-seekers (the so-called “boat people”) from entering the country. The two major political parties vied with each other as to who would be “toughest” on these people, variously dubbed “economic migrants” or “criminals” (indeed, the two terms are often used inter-changeably).
Australia is not only a new country, its politicians seem to have short memories. All their ancestors, unless they sprang from the indigenous aborigines, were immigrants from Europe or Asia. Many of them were also criminals from Britain sent to the Australian outback to serve their penal servitude.
The Australian government openly recruits professionals from nations like Sri Lanka. There is a vast number of Sri Lankan doctors, engineers, accountants, and others who have been encouraged to migrate by Australian governments over the past thirty years or so. Many of them were educated in local state universities which do not charge tuition. The Australian government does not compensate Sri Lankan taxpayers for this “brain drain”, nor do other Western countries. Our universities have become training schools for foreign employment. The trickle of “aid” that flows the other way is wholly disproportionate to what the country loses in terms of skilled human resources.
Such economic migrants are deemed acceptable. So are the thousands of Australians who emigrate to the US in search of higher-paid jobs. The poor are told that they must follow “proper channels” in applying for travel visas. But the application procedures are so complex and expensive, that few middle-class people can navigate their way around them, leave alone the poor. Even well-traveled people like myself feel humiliated at Western embassies by the meaningless questions we have to answer every time we have to travel. What makes it worse is that many Western countries, including Britain and Australia, now outsource the visa application process to local companies whose employees are little bureaucrats who cannot think “outside the box” when it comes to dealing with individuals. All this is about reducing costs. So what chance do the poor have in climbing these bureaucratic hurdles? So much less cumbersome to borrow money from loan sharks and be smuggled across borders.
I observe that it is the recent middle-class migrants to Australia and Britain (from places like India or Sri Lanka) who tend to become most fiercely “anti-immigration”. It is as if they have to guard their privileged positions. One rarely reads in the British or Australian media stories of poor refugees or economic migrants – who were once dubbed “criminals” or “welfare cheats”- now contributing massively to their new nations. It is the negative image that is routinely displayed in the tabloids. (Is Mohammed Farah, Britain’s most famous athlete, called “Mo” in the media to downplay his Somali Muslim origins?).
During a recent visit to the south of Sri Lanka I talked with a neurologist who serves in the Outpatients Department of a major government hospital. She told me she sees about 40 patients an hour and has to decide which of them are the most serious cases vis a vis treatment and admission. A nightmare scenario, but one that is common in most parts of the Majority World. It provides excellent training for doctors, but the patients obviously get a raw deal. The rich, of course, can go to private hospitals.
There are probably more Sri Lankan neurology specialists in Australia than there are in Sri Lanka. That will also be the case with most other medical specialities. And you will not find many of them serving in poor communities or volunteering to help refugees and asylum-seekers. (I would love to hear stories of exceptions to this).
The situation in the US is not very different. Did you know that two-fifths of all foreign-trained medical doctors in the US come from three poor Asian countries- India, Pakistan and the Philippines? Rarely do we find anyone from relatively affluent Asian minorities in the US speaking out for the abused and marginalized, or exposing the blatant hypocrisies in debates about “undocumented workers”. The latter contribute hugely to the American economy, and are even among the janitorial staff of American government agencies and the World Bank; yet they are often vilified as mere spongers on social benefits.
An American friend of mine working in Indonesia wrote recently in his newsletter: “If Indonesian bureaucracy is corrupted by money and poverty, US bureaucracy is corrupted by fear of the ‘other’. My wife and I waited in line as we applied for her visa in the bunker-like US Embassy in Jakarta. Ten wealthy, well educated, English-speaking Indonesians ahead of us, were all rejected (after paying hefty application fees). The poor could not even get in the door. As my own anxiety simmered, the words on the Statue of Liberty kept running through my mind like a bad joke:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shores.
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
That was just a dream some of us had, a long time ago.”
I don’t normally reproduce other people’s writings or newsletters on this Blog. But the short piece below from an Egyptian friend deserves a wide readership, not least because it highlights an important aspect to the troubles in that nation which the so-called “international media” almost totally neglect. It is also a challenge to Christians living in more comfortable circumstances. My friend writes:
“When more than 85 Churches and institutions were viciously attacked and burned (a profound blow of disgrace and humiliation in this culture of ‘honour’), the non-retaliation of Christians was both unexpected and unprecedented.
Immediately following these attacks, the leader of the Coptic Church, Pope Tawadros II said that if the destruction of these properties was the price Christians in Egypt have to pay to get a free Egypt, then that sacrifice is worthwhile! His – and all other Christian leaders’ messages – have helped the Christian spirit of forgiveness to be powerfully demonstrated in Egypt.
This practical application of Christ’s teaching by millions of Egyptian Christians should have made worldwide headline news!
Many Egyptian Christian leaders are reminding their flock that the Church consists of the people of God, Christ’s body, and not the buildings in which we worship. Thus the Church can never be destroyed!
Egypt is not on the verge of civil war! On the contrary, most Egyptian Muslims and Christians are more united than ever in their common vision for the future, as together they have rejected extremist ‘Political Islam’, and are working towards the noble task of establishing a civil society which recognizes all Egyptians as equal citizens.
Egypt, however, faces incredible social, economic, cultural and political challenges as it tries to rebuild after three years of radical change and confusion. As a result many Egyptians are weary and pessimistic about the present situation in their country.
Most of our leaders, however, see beyond these difficulties towards a better Egypt.”
The Internet tempts us all to become instant “experts” on every issue we read about. It is a temptation that Bloggers find difficult to resist- but resist we must. For even the professional analysts who are invited to pontificate on TV news channels and chatshows seem to have no more wisdom as to what should be done right now in Syria than the rest of us. But, unlike us, they get paid fat fees for looking wise and spouting clichés.
So, in response to people asking me what should be done in Syria, my answer is simple: “I don’t know”. And how am I expected to know when I have little idea of what is happening in a country that I have never visited, and about which I have to depend on a global news media that is selective and prejudiced most of the time? As for trusting Western governments and their “intelligence” agencies, enough has been said on this Blog over the years about the idiocy of such a suggestion. Liberal democratic governments lie to their citizens as much as do despotic regimes.
What, then, should ordinary citizens be doing long before situations become intractable, like in Syria today?
They should be asking questions in letters to the newspapers or directly to their elected representative, or in Internet forums. (I am addressing readers living in relatively democratic countries, where access to media and politicians is possible). This is more demanding than offering half-baked solutions.
Following the horrendous chemical weapons attacks on the 21st August, trying to find the right questions to ask is a challenging exercise. But here are my own, given in the hope that readers of this Blog will also offer theirs:
(1) Why do we express moral revulsion at chemical weapons only after they have been used? Why are those governments (or private companies sponsored by governments) which have developed these weapons not the target of international sanctions? (The former head of Syria’s chemical weapons unit defected and is now living in Turkey- is he not also morally culpable for the 21 August attacks?)
(2) Which countries have deployed chemical weapons in the past, and why have their heads of state not been prosecuted before the International Criminal Court?
(3) If chemical weapons are intrinsically evil (as I agree they are), because they do not discriminate between combatants and non-combatants and because they are designed to torture and not just kill, does not the same apply to nuclear and biological weapons? If so, should all those governments that possess these weapons of mass destruction not be labelled “terrorist states” from a moral point of view?
(4) Are not all those states which have fuelled the civil war in Syria with their arms shipments to both sides morally culpable?
Some of the commentary in the media, and even among academics, is quite ludicrous. London’s conservative Daily Telegraph called Obama “a reluctant warrior” forced to deploy US military might to protect civilians in Syria (but not, apparently, in Afghanistan, Pakistan or Somalia). On the other side, some of the anti-American rhetoric is equally pathetic. American “unilateralism” is condemned, but not France’s unilateral military interventions in Mali, Ivory Coast and other former French colonies. And are we not grateful, with hindsight of course, for India’s military intervention to prevent genocide in East Pakistan in 1971 and the Vietnamese invasion (albeit belatedly) in Cambodia to stop Pol Pot? Neither of the latter actions were authorised by UN resolutions.
I also find irrelevant the argument about the “illegality” of any Western intervention. The argument, voiced in several eminent circles, is that what makes an act of war legal, apart from self-defence, is the Security Council, acting under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, authorising the use of force in response to a threat to international peace and security.
However, what may be illegal can still be moral. International law is slowly catching up on what would be considered normal moral practice (e.g. using force to protect a neighbour whose life is threatened). A more serious criticism of any military intervention in Syria is the possible widening of the conflict; as well as the lack of clarity in the aims of such an intervention. That is why I said it is a difficult decision and not as clear-cut as many armchair pundits on either side seem to think it is.
As long as the five permanent members of the Security Council have a right of veto on any UN resolution, and they remain the biggest arms dealers in the world, the UN will remain a dysfunctional organization. It is beyond reform. It needs to be replaced by new international institutions comprising democratically elected representatives and a global law enforcement capacity.
Finally, should not populous democracies like India and Brazil be urged to take on a more global role when it comes to international diplomacy? India has been a disastrous “superpower” in the South Asian region, largely because of self-serving politicians and an expensive but poorly-trained army. But it does have some competent civil servants and academics. And if it could be persuaded to take an active peace-making role in areas of the world where it does not have any vested interests, economic or military, would not this reduce the perception of “Western hegemony”? As long as India and Brazil only posture on the world stage as “major economies”, their criticisms of the US ring hollow.