“Am I my brother’s guardian?” (Gen 4:9, my trans.)

The recent series of mass shootings, especially those at public schools, have brought the issue of gun control to the fore in public discussions. Many of the evangelical Christian voices in this discussion speak of the “right” to gun ownership, which obviously derives from the “right” to self-defense, as though both were “God-given.” I am increasingly dissatisfied with “rights” language as a sufficient, even suitable, medium for the discussion of Christian ethics. Many Christians, it seems to me, should reconsider the logic underlying their avid support for gun ownership in light of the Gospel’s emphasis, not on human rights, but on human dignity and human responsibility.

Since some readers of this blog may draw, or may have already drawn, an image of me as a tree-hugging, pacifist, socialist, anti-Israel, lefty, I think it may be important to point out that my father was a weapons instructor and an MP in the Marine corps, that my maternal grandfather was a gunsmith, and that I grew up around guns. Indeed, I learned the basics of gun repair from my grandfather and more than the basics of gun safety and marksmanship from my father.  Guns are no mystery to me.  I know how to use them and how to misuse them.

This entry will not deal with guns at first, however.  Instead, it will examine the notion of a “right to self-defense” from the perspective of biblical theology and more specifically the Christian Gospel. In sum, I will assert that there are no grounds for “self-defense” as a God-given right in Christian theology.

The concept of “rights” operates in the realm of what philosophers term natural law and Christian theologians call general revelation.  Simply put, both argue that one can derive deontological principles (what “ought” to be or to be done) from ontology (what is, the way things are).  Before turning directly to the Gospel, however, I think it important to point out that, even as defined by natural law, the right of self-defense is inherently flawed.

Ethicist Richard B. Miller agrees: “…rights do not provide a comprehensive or unified account for addressing the ethics of self-defense” (“Killing, Self-defense, and Bad Luck,” Journal of Religious Ethics [2009]: 132).  Miller contemplates a series of typical cases that move from the clear assignment of guilt and a clear “right” to self-defense to those in which rights arguments become muddled.  Two cases, in particular, raise practical concerns that seem particularly relevant to current claims that view violence in our society in the simplistic, binary terms of “a good guy with a gun” versus “a bad guy with a gun” or to current proposals to arm public school teachers.

Miller’s case of the “justified attacker” contemplates a bomber pilot given a mission in a “just war” to drop her bombs on a clear military target in the midst of a certain city. On the ground, a person who objects to his country’s policy (i.e. sides with the bomber’s just cause) knows that some of her bombs may go astray, endangering him, his family, and his neighbors – innocents in the international dispute.  He has access to anti-aircraft weapons.  Is he justified in defending himself?  Similarly, Miller’s case of the “innocent bystander” envisions a thug who mistakes a person for an enemy and begins shooting.  This person sees an opportunity to grab the thug’s niece to serve as a shield.  Is the thug’s target justified in bringing an innocent into danger in order to defend himself/herself? Does the thug’s enemy not become an attacker from the perspective of the innocent niece?  Does she not have the right to defend herself?

To be sure, the so-called “wisdom” tradition in the Bible, often neglected in Protestant theology, involves a variety of general revelation: by careful observation, it contends, one can observe how God created the world to be and derive from these observations some idea of how God intends the world to function.  Having identified these principles of order, “wise” persons should adhere to these principles. Even within the biblical wisdom tradition, however, the books of Job and Ecclesiastes problematize the universal applicability of this approach. In essence, Job and Ecclesiastes point out that the observable world does not, in fact, perfectly reflect God’s intention for the world. Sin has corrupted and perverted the original order, which means that wisdom observers study a world in which disorder obscures their vision of God’s original intention.  To derive from this adulterated world absolute ethical principles is to make disorder normative. Consequently, the “right to self-defense,” based on the more fundamental “right to life,” reflects the fact that, in the fallen order, someone or some group may want to cause others harm, even to take life.

From the perspective of the Christian Gospel, norms based on the current state of being hinder the force of “norms” derived from God’s intention to redeem, to restore the world to the intended order. Whereas disordered human social interactions may be characterized by hierarchical relations between the sexes (Gen 3:16), in Christ, “there is neither male nor female” (Gal 3:28), just to name one example.  In the Bible, even more fundamental than the “right to life” is the dignity of being human. Rights are selfish; they demarcate boundaries; they separate; they acknowledge competition between rather than communion with the other; they establish disorder as normative. Christians – called to make peace (Matt 5:9), to turn the other cheek (Matt 5:39; Luke 6:29), to take up their crosses and lay down their lives (Mark 8:34; Matt 10:38; 16:24; Luke 9:23; 14:27), and to love their enemies (Matt 5:44; Luke 6:27, 35) – can only assert the “right to self-defense” in an admission of their own inability or unwillingness to combat force with love.

Yet, the Gospel does not call upon believers to despise their own dignity and worth, foolishly risking God’s gift of life, seeking out meaningless martyrdom. Furthermore, the requirement for Christians to function as salt and light in the world, to exert influence in the public realm, implies the necessity of influencing a society that will not embrace the Christian call to place the dignity and worth of others (even enemies, aggressors) on a par with one’s own.  In other words, violence, madness, and meanness have so corrupted the world that Christians, who may be willing to follow Christ’s admonitions fully but who appropriately do not wish to suffer unredemptively, cannot expect others to follow the call of Christ. In this case, Christians should advocate practical notions that may at least curb the vengeful urges that drive contemporary assertions of the fundamental character of the “right” to self-defense.

It may be helpful, at this point, to draw analogies between a private ethics of “self-defense” and elements of the medieval doctrine of “just war.” I propose that the “right” to self-defense, especially as it relates to the current discussion concerning gun ownership, should be restricted under natural law, itself, in the following ways, which, although they may not actively seek peace, at least limit violence.  Typically, “Just War” theory requires that war be waged:  (a) by a proper authority, (b) for a proper cause, (c) with a proper motivation (i.e. not out of revenge, but with peace as the goal), (d) only as a last resort, and (e) with a reasonable probability of success (so as not to waste lives on either side to no end).  One could add (f) with reasonable force (an eye for an eye, not a life for an eye). In terms of gun ownership and the individual “right to self-defense,” these principles can be applied to restrict (yes, restrict) ownership and use: (a) to mentally healthy adults with gun safety training, (b and c) to exclude military-style assault rifles, since their only reasonable purpose is to kill en masse, (d) to discourage by legislation the use of force that is disproportionate to the threat (deadly force is not appropriate against an unarmed aggressor or for the protection of land or chattels, for example) or when flight represents an alternative course of action, and (e) to weigh carefully the possibilities of the unintended consequences of public policy (an armed teacher mistaken for an aggressor or the mayhem of multiple armed “good guys” mistakenly shooting one another are but two examples that come to mind).

Although I would hope to have the strength to eschew violence, I admit that in cases in which my I or my family were to face threat to life, I would probably be willing to cause injury. I am unwilling to kill. My profound concerns involve the eagerness to kill “the bad guy,” the unwillingness to seek ways to diminish threats posed by “bad guys” (mental health policy, background checks, restrictions on clip size, etc.), and the valorization of revenge that I hear in the ongoing debate. At least in the US, “good guys” and “bad guys” seem equally enamored of the violence that God once described as filling the earth (Gen 6:11).