Few events in American history inspire as much pride as World War II.I would like to thank Dr. James Halstead of DePaul University for his generous and invaluable help on this chapter. Dr. Halstead regularly takes students to Hiroshima, and knows this issue as well as anyone. Though his conclusions differ from my own, this chapter would not have been possible without him. Movies like Saving Private Ryan depict the tremendous sacrifices that American soldiers made in this war, and the powerful sense of purpose that guided those involved. Recently books like The Greatest Generation chronicle not only the heroic acts of those who fought for us in World War II, but also argue that such bravery must be understood in the context of a generation of people who were truly virtuous in their love of country, grasp of justice, and willingness to sacrifice. Many families proudly tell stories of their own members’ contributions and sacrifices in World War II. In my own family, we repeatedly recount the story of my maternal grandfather driving a landing craft to the beaches of Normandy on D-Day, and joining Patton’s army in the race across Europe after the successful invasion.

For many—myself included—World War II serves as a model, or paradigm, of the just war. Nazis were ravaging Europe and exterminating people by the millions. Japan was building an empire in East Asia that included the brutal subjugation of conquered peoples. Concentration camps and Hitler on the one side, Pearl Harbor on the other. What could be more just? It is easy in this context not to question any actions of the United States. It is understandable in the context of the horror of war in general, and of this war in particular, to regard any moral analysis of the actions of war as an ivory-tower academic luxury secured by precisely the actions of those willing to get things done. Moral analysis may appear to be Monday-morning quarterbacking, where in the safety and knowledge of hindsight we make judgments to which it is not reasonable to hold people in the heat of battle.

This hesitance is especially present among people with regard to analyzing the United States’ decision to use atomic bombs to attack Japan at war’s end. In the context of a just war, it is difficult for many to consider whether an act that clearly hastened the end of the war was not morally justified. Given the horrible loss of life at places like Iwo Jima and Okinawa, anything that could halt such carnage seems best. Individual families tell stories about how the bomb impacted their lives. In my own family, my other grandfather, who could not serve in battle due to a physical problem, was taught Japanese by the military in Hawaii, and was slated to be among the first wave of troops as an interpreter should the U.S. invade Japan. Given the projected casualty rates for such an invasion, members of my family commonly claim that without the atom bomb we would not be here, as my grandfather would most likely have been killed. For many reasons such as these, people are understandably hesitant to subject to moral analysis the decision to drop the atom bomb.

But we must resist the urge to avoid moral analysis for two reasons. First, decisions need to be made in these trying circumstances, and no matter what decision is made it will observe some rule, even if the rule applied is simply win a just war in whatever way protects as many of one’s own as possible. (Note that this already includes a limit on the use of force, since it must occur in a just war.) As explained in chapter 7, war is a rule-governed activity. The refusal to reflectively subject our decisions to analysis is often an implicit decision to do whatever we want, or at least what is seen as necessary at the time to achieve a virtuous goal, without concern for the ways that force should be limited. True, it is difficult to do this sort of thinking at the time of the conflict. But it is not impossible, as evidenced by the classic essay by John Ford, SJ, “The Morality of Obliteration Bombing,” where he subjected the United States’ policy of obliteration bombing in Germany in 1944 to moral scrutiny as it was happening.See John Ford, SJ, “The Morality of Obliteration Bombing,” Theological Studies 5 (1944): 259–309. This classic article on a very practical just-war issue was enormously influential on this chapter. Furthermore, even after-the-fact analysis, when done with proper consideration of how things were at the time of the act, can presumably aid our decision making in such situations in the future. Obtaining a more accurate view of the past, so as to direct our future action, may be the most important reason for this analysis.

Second, recall that from the morality-of-happiness perspective endorsed in this book, moral reflection about the use of force is not primarily a matter of adjudicating where and how restrictive rules apply or not. Deliberately following a policy like noncombatant immunity may indeed entail tough decisions about limiting how force is used on occasion. But those limitations should be understood in the context of the larger endeavor of restoring and preserving justice. Though they may be experienced as obligations limiting the use of force, they are most rightly understood as the best, even most effective, way to achieve the stated goal of restoring true justice. How this is so will be explained below.

Unsurprisingly, much of the terminology in the questions driving this chapter’s sections comes from the ius in bello part of the just-war theory explained in chapter 7. The chapter proceeds as follows. The first section has two goals. It will simultaneously offer a rudimentary sketch of the situation in the summer of 1945, when the United States made the decision to drop the first atom bomb on Hiroshima, and examine whether or not those conditions justify the use of the atomic bomb according to the just-war criterion of proportionality. (Though much of what is examined in this essay obviously applies to Nagasaki, the focus will be on the initial decision whether to use the atom bomb or not, and the first use of the bomb occurred at Hiroshima.) The caveat stated in the first test-case chapter is repeated here, namely, that reading this chapter should be supplemented by other texts that will provide more data about the case under consideration. The second section of the chapter explores whether noncombatant immunity (or discrimination) even applies to Japan in the summer of 1945. The third section defines and employs a classic tool in moral theology—the doctrine of double effect—to scrutinize the intention behind dropping the atom bomb and determine whether noncombatant immunity, assuming it did indeed apply to Japan in 1945, was violated or not by dropping the atom bomb.

The criterion of proportionality in discussions of ius in bello is an attempt to ensure that only the force which is necessary to restore justice is employed in a just war. So, whether or not the use of the atomic bomb was a proportional use of force depends on the situation at the time. It is difficult to describe a situation objectively and then morally evaluate it. One’s description of a situation is often shot through with evaluations. For instance, deciding what facts to present, and the order in which to present them, reflects one’s position on how to best act in a situation. This makes sense, since how we see things indicates how to act rightly. People who disagree on how to act often see things differently.

Yet despite how intricately related the tasks of description and evaluation are, it is not the case that we have no ways to adjudicate who sees a situation more accurately. For instance, not all facts of the situation in the summer of 1945 are contested. Furthermore, claims about the situation that are contested can be substantiated in better or worse ways by careful examination of the historical data we have. In other words, despite the recognition that how we see things is not simply a matter of opening our eyes, there are indeed more or less accurate ways to describe the situation in which the decision was made to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. Here is yet another indicator of the moral importance of prudence and seeing things rightly.

This section seeks to achieve two goals at once: first, to describe the context for the decision to drop the atom bomb on Hiroshima in the summer of 1945, and second, to evaluate that decision in the terms of proportionality. In recognition that it is not possible to give a complete and objective account of the facts of the situation in which the decision to drop the bomb was made, and then subject those facts to moral scrutiny, the two tasks of description and evaluation of proportionality are treated together here. Being no historian myself, the research of historians, often accessed through the research of moralists writing on this topic, is relied on here for describing the situation in 1945. This section will note the uncontested claims about the situation, and recognize where there are competing accounts of what that situation was. An evaluation of proportionality will be offered based on what is understood here to be the best account of that situation. Unsurprisingly, we will find that differences in evaluations of proportionality often result from different assessments of what exactly the situation was.

By the summer of 1945 the tide of World War II had clearly turned. The European theater had ended in May 1945. In the Pacific, the Americans were steadily defeating the Japanese on islands the Japanese had captured during and before the war. It is also clear that these battles were happening at tremendous cost to both sides, American and Japanese. To give some indication of the human cost of this fighting, one author reports that in 1945 Allied casualties were approximately 7,000 per week.See Paul Fussell, “Thank God for The Atomic Bomb,” in Thank God for the Atomic Bomb and Other Essays, ed. Paul Fussell (New York: Ballantine Books, 1990), 18. Note this does not even include Japanese casualties, which would surely be comparable, or even worse.This is obviously not to discount the importance of Japanese casualties. But American casualty figures are given here since only those are found in the sources cited here.

Invasion plans for Japan were already well under way. Preparatory bombardment had begun by July of 1945, and the anticipated beginning of a full-scale invasion was November 1945. No one contests that planning for such an invasion was underway, or that it would have resulted in an enormous loss of both American and Japanese lives. The most commonly cited figure for anticipated American casualties alone to fully secure Japan was one million people.See, for instance, Fussell, 15. Another author reports that approximately 760,000 American soldiers were to be sent to the southern Japanese island of Kyushu to initiate the invasion. Given the 35 percent casualty rate suffered by American forces in invading Okinawa, this phase of the invasion alone could reasonably be expected to result in over 250,000 American casualties.See Charles Landesman, “Rawls on Hiroshima: An Inquiry into the Morality of the Use of Atomic Weapons in August 1945,” Philosophical Forum 34, no. 1 (2003): 25.

The standard justification given for the use of the bomb at Hiroshima was that Japan was unwilling to surrender without being defeated militarily, and the only alternative to the use of the bomb was a full-scale invasion of Japan. The argument continues by saying that as horrific as killing 100,000 people at Hiroshima was, it actually saved lives.This 100,00 figure is taken from Douglas Lackey, “Why Hiroshima Was Immoral: A Response to Landesman,” Philosophical Forum 34, no. 1 (2003): 39. If using the atomic bomb brought the Japanese to surrender, as the Japanese in fact did, then despite the horrible devastation it wrought, things would have been worse for both sides had it not been dropped. Therefore, granting the context of a just war, the use of the atomic bomb in this particular situation was justified since it helped restore the order of justice in a proportional manner. It not only achieved U.S. victory in a just war, but did so in a manner whereby less lives were lost than had an invasion been necessary. (The question of which lives were lost is taken up in the following section.)

The most common way this standard justification for the atomic bomb is attacked on grounds of proportionality is in its assumption that the only options available to the United States in early August 1945 were full-scale invasion or using the atom bomb. There are reasons to suspect that this is not true. First of all, by this point in the war the Soviet Union had joined the United States in the war on Japan. Soviet forces had soundly defeated Japanese forces on the mainland of East Asia.For a helpful and brief article that argues against the use of the atomic bomb solely on the grounds of proportionality, see Douglas Lackey, “Why Hiroshima Was Immoral: a Response to Landesman.” Given the formidable forces surrounding the Japanese in early August of 1945, it is reasonable to claim that they might well have surrendered without a full-scale invasion.

Others retort that the samurai culture so ingrained in the Japanese mentality precluded any such dishonorable surrender, and that the Japanese as a people were committed to fight to the last man, woman, and child, with whatever weapon was available, to resist any invading forces.See Fussell, “Thank God for The Atomic Bomb,” 16–17, for an argument like this. See also Landesman, “Rawls on Hiroshima,” 23–24, for his borrowing of the phrase “samurai culture” from John Rawls. It is of course impossible to know with certainty what the Japanese response would have been.

Two other options to end the war are often suggested. First, Japan could have been blockaded rather than invaded. One author suggests that given Allied exhaustion at the conclusion of the war in the European theater, there was hesitance on the part of the Americans for such a drawn-out strategy. There was also the hope on the part of the Japanese that Allied resolve would crumble, and peace could be negotiated on terms for more favorable than any which included, for instance, occupation.See Landesman, “Rawls on Hiroshima,” 23. Whatever the merit of this decision, it seems clear that the United States military in the summer of 1945 was preparing for an invasion of Japan, and not simply a blockade.

Mention of peace negotiations raises the second suggested option to secure Japanese surrender without invasion or atom bomb. It is uncontested that negotiations for peace had been underway between the United States and Japan throughout 1945. As noted above, it was clear by 1945 that the United States would win the war in some way or other. Apparently the main sticking point in these negotiations was the insistence on the part of the Japanese that their emperor be given immunity rather than be prosecuted, should the Japanese surrender. For its part, the United States insisted that the Japanese surrender be unconditional. This difference halted peace negotiations between the nations. Yet immediately after the second atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, the United States accepted a peace agreement with Japan that included precisely the protection and immunity for the emperor that the Japanese had earlier sought. Some wonder why this term was acceptable after the bomb if it was unacceptable before the bomb.See Lackey, “Why Hiroshima Was Immoral,” 4–41. The reason that this is an argument of proportionality is that it suggests the United States could have restored the order of justice without recourse to the bomb that killed 100,000 in Hiroshima.

Though these are the main arguments advanced in debates over the proportionality of the use of the atomic bomb, other points have been raised. Some supporters of the use of the bomb at Hiroshima claim that the bomb had a shock effect that not only made the Japanese desire surrender, but also made the United States more inclined to grant the emperor immunity. Some opponents contest whether such a shock was really needed to reach a peace agreement before the atomic bomb that was like the one reached after the bomb. Other opponents grant the need for such a shock, but claim it could have been delivered by dropping the bomb in a more desolate area of Japan first.Ibid., 41. Perhaps these latter people think that had Japan not surrendered after such a display of power, the bombing would have been justified based on proportionality.

Note that all of these arguments concern proportionality. They all assume that winning the war was a just goal for the United States, and that the United States was morally justified in pursuing that goal, but only in a way that used no more than that force necessary to achieve the goal. As noted in the previous chapter’s discussion of different versions of just-war thinking, attending to proportionality is essential in any just-war argument. Making determinations of proportionality relies on the most accurate assessment of the situation possible. In other words, it relies on prudence. Based upon the assessment of the situation presented in this section, it is my position that the use of the atomic bomb can be justified if one examines solely the proportionality of its effects. In other words, if the whole of the question of the morality of the atom bomb were determined by whether or not it ultimately saved more lives, then its use was justified, and virtuous in accordance with the criterion of proportionality. Of course, this can only be the end of a moral analysis of the bomb if one adopts a “just-war proportionality alone” approach to just war reasoning. Yet, as argued in that chapter, there are other essential elements of just-war theory to attend to, particularly concerning noncombatant immunity. It is to these that we now turn.

Having addressed proportionality and acknowledged that the atom bomb could be justified if examining solely the proportionality of its destructive effects, there are two criteria of ius in bello that remain: noncombatant immunity and intention. Recall that an act of war must satisfy all three criteria in order to be virtuous. These last two criteria are both addressed in the following section. But before we can do that, we must ask a prior question: were there noncombatants in Hiroshima, Japan in the summer of 1945?

This may sound like an odd question. Surely in Hiroshima there were babies, and elderly, and invalid people who could not count as combatants in any conventional sense of the term. Of course this was true. But those who are more familiar with the Japanese people and culture in 1945 describe a society that was thoroughly militarized.This is what is meant by Landesman’s citation of Rawls on the Japanese samurai culture. For a powerful description of this mentality, see Fussell, “Thank God for The Atomic Bomb,” 26–27. There he cites one U.S. military intelligence officer as proclaiming publicly, “there are no civilians in Japan” (27). They describe a nation of one heart with the military, and so proud and protective of their nation that they would fight to the very last person to defend it against, say, an invasion. Indeed, policies were in place to enable people who would normally be described as noncombatants, such as children, elderly, and others on the home front, to help defend the nation against any invaders. Those knowledgeable with this culture at the time describe a militarized mentality that blurs, and perhaps obliterates, any clean distinction between combatants and noncombatants.

In order to thus determine whether or not there were noncombatants in Japan in 1945, we must examine the basis of this ius in bello criterion. What is the rationale behind noncombatant immunity? One of the foundational principles of Christian and non-Christian approaches to just war alike is that innocent people must never be intentionally killed.Recall this criterion of ius in bello from the U.S. bishops document, “The Harvest of Justice Is Sown in Peace,” examined in chapter 7. For an example of a just-war theorist who holds this criterion while not writing from an explicitly Christian perspective, see Michael Walzer’s response to Fussell in the essay “An Exchange of Views,” in Thank God for the Atomic Bomb and Other Essays, ed. Paul Fussell (New York: Ballantine Books, 1988), 23–28. See also his important work on just-war theory entitled Just and Unjust Wars, 3rd ed. (New York: Basic Books, 2006). Why? The purpose of the use of force is to restore ius, a truly just peace. One of the defining features of such a state of affairs is the protection of innocent life. So the violation of that principle in the attempt to restore ius does not just open one to charges of intellectual inconsistency or moral hypocrisy. It is actually counterproductive to the very state that one seeks to establish.

Now this does not mean that no persons can be targeted for attack in warfare. It means no persons can be targeted who are innocent of the aggression which has triggered the just war. Just-war theory rests on the assumption that the order of justice is under attack by those who violate it. These aggressors are not innocent, and sacrifice their immunity to attack (granting all the conditions of ius ad bellum are met). Therefore, attacking only those determined to be guilty of, rather than innocent of, aggression is fundamental to just-war theory. The combatant/noncombatant distinction is precisely the attempt to determine who is guilty and who is innocent. Those who actively participate in the armed aggression of a nation are considered combatants. Those who do not are labeled noncombatants and are, according to just-war theory, not to be intentionally attacked.

There are several challenges to this basic explanation. First, the ascription of guilt or innocence is a corporate rather than an individual one. Determining a person’s guilt in some individual act of aggression or crime (theft, murder, etc.) may require an investigation, but it is relatively straightforward. We look at the act performed, search for a motive (intent) on the part of the accused, and make a determination. On the corporate level of, say, a nation, this is far more complicated than individual criminal cases, since the guilt is corporate and individuals may have stronger or weaker ties to the corporate mentality and aggression. Therefore, in affording the status of combatant or noncombatant, it is impossible to look at individual attitudes or intentionality. Rather, the determination is made based upon what actions different civilians perform. People engaging in actions that are more directly tied to the corporate aggression (soldiers, base staff, munitions workers, etc.) are considered combatants, while others not so directly connected by their actions to the nation’s aggression are considered off-limits. Of course, this could mean there exist people, for whatever reason, unable to fight who hate the enemy, would love to fight, and support the nation’s aggression, but who are actually noncombatants. Conversely, there could be soldiers on the front lines who are drafted, hate the nation’s cause and perhaps even its leaders, but who are combatants due to their status as soldiers. This is a clear tragedy of war, in that determinations of one’s status as combatant may neglect individual circumstances that could otherwise affect that determination. Yet granting that aggressors may be justly resisted, it is difficult to see how this could be otherwise.

The second problem with noncombatant immunity concerns the difficulty of determining what sorts of activities are integral to a nation’s aggression to grant the person who does them combatant status. In other words, what actions are “combative enough” to make one count as a combatant? Some authors note how this is particularly the case with modern warfare, where civilian contractors, power-grid employees, and scientists doing weapons research are all examples of people whose work is crucial for a nation’s ability to wage war, even if these people are not soldiers in the traditional sense. So who count as combatants?

Clearly, soldiers in fighting units are combatants. People who do non-combat related work (custodial, food service, etc.) on bases are also generally considered legitimate targets, since they so directly support combat. We could say the same of mechanics working on the weapons of war, or even those civilians who work in munitions plants where arms are built. It is easy to see how quickly the lines determining who is a combatant expand. Some have concluded from this that really all citizens in a nation are rightly considered combatants. After all, doctors heal people who later fight. Farmers grow food that feeds the troops, and cobblers make shoes they wear to battle. Children write letters of support to their parent soldiers, and eventually grow into soldiers themselves. Particularly if we include moral support as a contribution to the war effort, it is difficult to see who would not count as a combatant. Given the myriad ways that citizens contribute to a nation’s war-making efforts, it is difficult to determine who exactly counts as a noncombatant.

But despite the difficulties posed by having to draw such lines, many just-war theorists insist that draw such lines we must.For a fine example of this line of thinking, see Ford, “The Morality of Obliteration Bombing.” It is not the case, as is often nostalgically suggested, that premodern warfare made it easy to delineate combatants from noncombatants. Many of the war supporters identified in the last paragraph clearly existed in premodern warfare: farmers, cobblers, children, and moral supporters. These people did make indirect contributions to a nation’s war efforts, but were nonetheless deemed noncombatants. It is certainly true that modern styles of warfare make these determinations more difficult: soldiers are often not uniformed and hide among civilians; research and development people seem to be direct contributors; and civilian contractors and pilots may be called upon to directly assist soldiers. These examples may reveal occasions where noncombatant immunity lines need to be redrawn to recognize that there are new forms of activity that directly contribute to the war effort. But what must not be sacrificed is the burden of explaining why those who are targeted are implicated directly in the nation’s aggression. To do otherwise would be to subvert the very justice that one claims to attempt to restore in warfare.

What is the relevance of this issue for the specific issue of whether or not there were noncombatants in Hiroshima in the summer of 1945? Many people cite the militarized culture of Japan in this time period as a reason for claiming that the entire nation’s people were combatants. This is a dangerous error. It makes some sort of internal attitude the feature that determines whether or not one is a combatant or not. When we see anti-American portrayals in 1945 Japan, and hear stories of pledges by civilians to defend their nation with every last drop of their blood, it is understandable to wonder whether these people should be afforded the protection of noncombatants. It is especially understandable when some have suffered at the hands of soldiers who demonstrated this same attitude with vicious intensity. Nonetheless, it is people’s actions, and more specifically how directly people’s actions are related to a nation’s war making, that should determine their status as combatants or not. Of course, should such civilians pick up arms and indeed fight, this status has changed, but only because the actions have changed. The same applies to children who will one day fight. Though this is obviously true, they have not fought yet. When they do cross the line and participate in the military, they are legitimate targets.

Americans who are wounded by terrorism, especially after the events of September 11, 2001, should be particularly wary of arguments that obliterate any distinction between combatants and noncombatants. Nations or non-national peoples may differ, and have differed, as to when there is just cause to use force against another people. But one way to assess the justice claims of people’s willingness to use force is to examine their willingness to kill the innocent. This willingness surely belies one’s supposedly just cause.

In the absence of noncombatant immunity, any person in a targeted nation is a legitimate target, including people who participate in a capitalist system by working in the World Trade Center, or who are simply American citizens on board an airplane. This is not at all to say that terrorists who kill such people have a just cause. That is a separate question. But terrorists clearly violate noncombatant immunity understood in any conventional sense. We should be wary of how we expect noncombatant immunity to be respected among our enemies when we consider whether to respect it ourselves, or how stingily we will grant its protection.

Several conclusions can be culled from this section. First, noncombatant immunity is an essential component of fighting a just war. As noted in chapter 7 and in the previous section of this chapter, there are just-war theorists who limit the use of force by proportionality alone. Yet that position is rejected here. Refusing to intentionally kill innocent noncombatants is necessary if one genuinely seeks to restore a just peace that would of course be characterized by protection of innocent life. To kill the innocent to protect the innocent is logically inconsistent, hypocritical, and counterproductive. Therefore, it is argued here that acknowledgement of noncombatant immunity must be part of any virtuous war-making.

The second conclusion concerns Hiroshima directly. Even if one grant that noncombatant immunity must be respected, one could argue that there were no noncombatants in Hiroshima in 1945. This position is also rejected here. Given the corporate nature of warfare, determinations of guilt or innocence which underlie designation as a combatant or noncombatant must be based on a person’s particular activity, and the extent to which the activity directly contributes not simply to the war-makers (in terms of their health, stomachs, or moral support) but to their war-making activity. Munitions workers, pilots who shuttle soldiers to battle, and civilian contractors who erect an invading military’s barracks may all be legitimate targets. But even with this recognition, surely a great majority of a nation’s non-fighting persons remain noncombatants.

Efforts to redefine all a nation’s inhabitants as combatants should be seen for what they are: a self-protective and deluded way to justify the desire to kill the innocent among the enemy, despite an unstated recognition that the innocent should not be intentionally killed. Americans do well to remember our justified outrage when our enemies make just such self-deluding claims.

The previous section offered two conclusions. First, noncombatants should be granted immunity in warfare. Second, though changing conditions of contemporary warfare warrant the rethinking of who is afforded this protection, the protection should not be practically eliminated by such a broad understanding of what constitutes a contribution to war-making that nearly every person among the enemy is a legitimate target. Based on these claims, it is further concluded here that noncombatant immunity should have been respected by the United States in 1945, and it should have been understood in a reasonable manner such that a significant portion of the population of Hiroshima, indeed a majority of the population, were understood as noncombatants.

Given these conclusions, it would seem that the atomic bombing of Hiroshima was a clear violation of ius in bello. But we are actually unable to make that determination just yet. Even those who respect noncombatant immunity, and respect it in a manner that recognizes that many people are actually noncombatants, may be justified in purposely engaging in war-making activities that tragically kill substantial numbers of noncombatants. How can this be? And is Hiroshima an example where this is the case? To determine these answers, we must define the traditional doctrine of double effect and then apply it to the dropping of the atomic bomb.

In every war noncombatants are killed. If “not killing noncombatants” were required to wage war justly, no war would be just. (Indeed, this is one reason why some insist that nonviolent resistance is the only virtuous response to aggression.) So what does noncombatant immunity mean if it does not mean “do not kill any noncombatants?” If you review every use of the term noncombatant immunity thus far in this book, you will see that it is defined as not intentionally killing noncombatants. Is it possible to kill people unintentionally? The answer to this question invokes the principle of double effect.

In moral theology there has always been a distinction between what effects we cause with our actions, and what we intend by our actions. Both are morally relevant, and we may even be praiseworthy or blameworthy for both, but these are not the same. Consider some examples to make this point. First, a silly example. My wife was often sick and tired when she was pregnant. Yet what sense would it make if someone said to me, “your wife intended to be sick”? This is not true. It is true that she intended to get pregnant. It is also true that she knew ahead of time that being pregnant generally entails being extra sick and tired at times. But though being sick and tired was a foreseen consequence of her becoming pregnant, it would not be accurate to say that she intended to be sick and tired. What’s the difference being intending something, and choosing something with foreseen consequences? Recall from chapter 2 that intentions are action-guiding. They are why we do what we do, and thus give meaning to our actions. They not only explain our actions but also shape our very selves. Who we become is in large part determined by what we intend.

If my wife were to have gotten pregnant to become sick and tired, she would shape herself to be a very different sort of person (perhaps an attention-seeking person, or a masochistic person) than if she intended to have a child with her husband and to endure the side-effect consequences she knew were entailed with being pregnant, like getting sick. So it should be clear that what we intend and what we foresee as consequences are indeed importantly different. Consider some more morally relevant examples. You can break up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, even though you know it will hurt him or her, either because you believe that is truly best for you both, since the relationship has no future, or because you intend to hurt him or her. These are two very different acts. It is possible to intend to end a relationship knowing it will hurt the person, but still not intend to hurt the person.

As one final example, consider a professor who fails a student, even while knowing that the student will be kicked off her sports team due to the failure. Would it be accurate to say the professor intended to get the student kicked off her team? Perhaps, if that is what drove the professor to give the failing grade. That would be a very different sort of act than if the professor gave the grade because it is what the student truly deserved, even if the professor knew the athlete would be kicked off a team.

Sometimes our actions have effects that extend beyond those we seek in intending the action. We often call these side effects. They may be foreseen, but they are not intended because they are not what is driving the action. (If they were, they would be intentions.) Of course, one can be blameworthy for unintended side effects. For instance, if you drive under the influence of alcohol and—God forbid—kill someone with your car, you did not likely intend to kill someone. But you should have foreseen the effects of driving under the influence, and so you are still guilty of a crime. It is not murder, which is intentional, but it is manslaughter. In fact, our legal system, with its various ways of holding people responsible for acts (murder one, murder two, manslaughter, etc.) recognizes the varying ways we can intend acts or do acts with foreseen—or foreseeable—consequences.

How can we determine if we are morally justified in proceeding with an action that has both good and bad effects (hence double effect), such as becoming pregnant, or breaking up with a significant other, or driving under the influence? The doctrine of double effect is used in precisely such situations to determine whether an act with double effect is virtuous or not. In order for any such act to be virtuous, it must pass all three conditions of the doctrine of double effect:

1. The intention must be good.

2. The bad effect cannot be the means to the good effect.

3. Proportionality: The good gained must outweigh the evil effect.Most formulations of the doctrine of double effect include one more criterion, and place it first. It is “the object of the act chosen must be good or indifferent.” However, that condition is omitted here because it seems to beg the question. The doctrine of double effect helps us determine whether the object is good or indifferent. If we already know it is bad, there is no reason to proceed with considering whether or not to do it! Furthermore, I know of no action that fails solely this first (omitted) criterion of the doctrine of double effect without failing at least one of the other three. Hence, that omitted first criterion is at the very least superfluous.

If you think this sounds arcane, or overly academic, I would suggest that this sort of reasoning actually happens all the time, even if we do not use this terminology or name it “double effect.” It is precisely this sort of thinking that would explain why it could be virtuous for my wife to get pregnant, or a professor to give an athlete a grade that will get her kicked off her team, but why it is not virtuous to drive under the influence.

This sort of thinking is also done all the time, even in warfare. Assume the United States is in an armed conflict that is a just war. A bomb goes awry and strikes a hospital or school, killing dozens of innocent noncombatants. The American response is never, “too bad!” or “we think it is good to kill noncombatants.” Rather, the response is that it was not intended. The intention was to hit a military target. We cite statistics to show how the vast majority of our weapons did just that, showing that we really were not intending to kill civilians. Of course, any time a bomb is dropped the military knows there is a chance that unintended side effects will occur, namely, innocent people will be killed. This is often called “collateral damage.” It is the bad effect which goes along with the good effect of waging a just war. It of course could be avoided. Not dropping a bomb would result in no civilian deaths (good effect), but it also would not use an available method to fight a just war, thus threatening the possibility of restoring justice (bad effect). What should one do when there are good and bad effects that follow, no matter what one chooses? That is precisely what the doctrine of double effect helps one ascertain.

As an example of using the principle, let us apply it to the case of bombing military targets in a city in a just war. In such cases there will most likely be collateral damage. Can one use such bombs in a virtuous manner? First, we must ask if there is a good intention. Since we are assuming a just war here, and assuming we can show through the results of other weapons that killing noncombatants is not the goal (intent) of the use of the weapon, then the first condition is met. The intention, or purpose driving the particular action, is destroying a military target. Second, are the bad effects the means, or path, to the good effects? The good effect intended here is the destruction of military targets. Not only is the death of noncombatants not the path to such success, but given the political costs of such deaths, it is clearly not desired in itself. The second condition is passed.

The third condition generally poses the biggest problem. Are the deaths of dozens of noncombatants acceptable losses, given the value of the objective sought in the particular strike? What if it were hundreds? Thousands? This depends on many factors. What is the objective targeted? How likely are civilian casualties? What alternative methods, or times, of attacking the target are available? The assumption in each of these questions is that one is trying to minimize the unintended deaths while maximizing the likelihood of achieving the objective. Presumably there are some objectives that warrant the risk of great loss. (The question of who risks the loss is often key.) And presumably there are some atrocities that are so awful one must never risk them. All of these are questions of proportionality.

Let us use the principle of double effect to evaluate the bombing at Hiroshima. The common argument in support of the bombing runs something like this. The atom bomb had good and bad effects. The good effect was an earlier end of the war and the resulting saving of hundreds of thousands of lives. The bad effect was the tragic deaths of 100,000 Japanese. These numbers make the bombing proportionate (criterion three). After all, if the bomb were not dropped, the 100,000 from Hiroshima would have been saved (good effect), but hundreds of thousands of other Japanese and Americans would have been killed (bad effect). Thus, reminiscent of the first section of the chapter, the atomic bombing of Hiroshima can be justified on the grounds of proportionality.

As for intention, the argument continues, it was not the civilian deaths (which were in fact terrible but proportionate side effects) that were intended, but rather the destruction of military installations in Hiroshima that was sought. That good intention, combined with the proportional reasoning justifying the bomb as ultimately saving lives, renders the act permissible under double effect.

This reasoning, however, is seriously deficient as it regards the first two conditions of double effect. What is the exact intention of dropping the atom bomb on Hiroshima? Note first that this standard justification is at least accurate in not naming “ending the war more quickly” as the intention behind dropping the bomb. That may indeed have been the ultimate goal. But recall an intention is a goal that drives a particular action. And winning the war does not suffice to describe this act. Some stated intention is needed to describe what particular act (in this case, dropping an atom bomb) one is doing to win the war. And so the above rationale claims the intended target was killing military personnel. As an example of this stated intention, see how one author, in response to a critic’s claim that this was not truly the intent of the atom bomb, writes:

I think Walzer’s not right when he says: “Though there were soldiers in Hiroshima, they were not the targets of the attack (or else we would have attacked a military base).” But Hiroshima was a military base, the headquarters of the Japanese Second Army, and soldiers were the [intended] target of the attack: we dropped the bomb accurately on the corner of their parade ground and killed thousands of them.See Paul Fussell’s portion of the essay “An Exchange of Views.”

If this reasoning were accurate, that soldiers were the intended target, then the first criterion of double effect could be passed, and this act could be justified at least on that criterion.

This is actually a question of fact. What was the intent of dropping the atomic bomb? It is hard to deny that the intent was destroying the city and its inhabitants, the majority of whom were noncombatants. If the goal were really to destroy a military base, the United States already had the technology (short of an atomic bomb) to achieve such a goal. It would hardly justify the mammoth commitment of intellectual and financial resources, given to the Manhattan Project (as the development project to make the atom bomb was called). No, the purpose of an atom bomb is to destroy a city, and not discriminate between combatants and noncombatants. It may be the case that thousands of soldiers were killed. But if that were the true intention, then other methods would have been employed to achieve it. The intention was clearly the destruction of a city, for the further purpose of demoralizing a people into surrender. If you hold a “just-war proportionality alone” position, this makes perfect sense. But if you think it immoral to intentionally kill civilians (as the previously cited author must think in order to justify the act in the way he did), then this act fails the first criterion of double effect with its bad intention.

It seems clear that the immediate intention of dropping the atomic bomb was to destroy the city and all its inhabitants, including noncombatants, to secure a further goal of ending war more quickly and saving lives. This leads us to the second criterion of double effect, and reveals why dropping the atom bomb also fails that condition. The terrible suffering inflicted on the civilian population was not a side effect in achieving the further goal of ending the war more quickly. It was the path, or means, to that goal. In other words, the war was only going to end more quickly if the bomb inflicted such suffering on the Japanese population that the nation’s leadership decided it must stop the war. This is what happened. If targeting military personnel were truly the intent, not only could this have been achieved with already available means (as noted above), but it also would not have ended the war as quickly as the atom bomb did. The atom bomb only worked to end the war so quickly by killing so many civilians. And the doctrine of double effect’s second criterion states that this must not be the case.

The third criterion of double effect, proportionality, was addressed in the first section of this chapter. I believe that the atom bomb could be justified if examined solely in terms of proportionality. This obviously reveals just how crucial the just war tenet of noncombatant immunity is for analyzing the morality of the atom bomb at Hiroshima. Note that the doctrine of double effect, according to which the use of the atom bomb was not justified, is unable to establish the grounds for noncombatant immunity. That was done in the second section of this chapter. In other words, if you do not think purposely killing innocent people is wrong, the application of the doctrine of double effect will look different than it does in this section. The doctrine of double effect is not a magic formula that immediately and convincingly determines the morality of any act. It is rather a reliable principle that helps people sort out what acts are justified when there are good and bad effects no matter what one does. In the case of the atomic bomb, it is only helpful in replying to those people, like the author quoted in this section, who at least implicitly recognize that intentionally killing the innocent is wrong.

We can now summarize the conclusions of the preceding questions. First, a standard feature of examining just-war issues is proportionality. In other words, the evil caused by either entering a war (ius ad bellum) or, as in the case of Hiroshima, waging a just war (ius in bello) must not outweigh the good caused by those acts. Since deliberations of proportionality by definition involve projecting things like casualties, alternative paths of action not taken, and different enemy responses, these deliberations are subject to criticism on these assumptions. This is seen in Hiroshima when opponents ask things like, “need there have been an invasion?” or “would an earlier offer of immunity to the emperor have made the bomb unnecessary?” These are reasonable questions. Nonetheless, the position is taken here that as horrible as it was, dropping the bomb on Hiroshima can be justified as proportional when we consider how quickly it ended the war and what we could have reasonably expected to happen otherwise.

For those supporters of just-war theory based on proportionality alone (as outlined in chapter 7), this is really the end of the moral analysis. The atomic bomb was justified. However, the analysis is not complete for those who support just war theory based on both proportionality and noncombatant immunity. For reasons explained in chapter 7, and seen again here, the U.S. bishops endorse only the latter just-war theory, and the consistent witness of the Christian tradition is that the intentional killing of innocent person (i.e., noncombatants) is gravely wrong and never justified. Unsurprisingly, given that Christians regard this as a natural law moral norm, many non-Christian thinkers also adopt this view of just war.See, for example, Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars (New York: Basic Books, 1992). So further questions remain: were there noncombatants in Hiroshima in 1945? If so, were they intentionally killed when the bomb was dropped?

As for the first question, the argument is made here that it is essential, even given the challenges posed by modern warfare, to maintain a sharp distinction between combatants and noncombatants. The very notion of combatant is based on a determination of guilt, though in the case of war it is a corporate assessment of guilt. The way individuals are implicated in the corporate acts of a nation is by their actions, not their attitudes. Furthermore, determinations of whether an individual’s actions can be considered part of a nation’s aggression should not be established merely by some sort of causal relationship between someone’s act and some ultimate assistance to a nation’s military. If this were the case, surely such causal relationships could be established between military activities and almost anyone— medical staff, town bread-makers, grandparents writing letters, and even children who are simply growing up. This would destroy any conventional use of the term combatant. It suggests the person deliberating may be trying to justify precisely an act against noncombatants. Of course there are tough cases in determining noncombatant status. But if the tough cases are those just mentioned, surely there are no clear noncombatants.

Finally, granting that there are indeed a significant number of noncombatants in cities like Hiroshima, the last question to answer is whether or not the atomic bomb was an act of intentionally killing these noncombatants, or whether it may be justified by the principle of double effect. Granting that the criterion of proportionality is met, the dropping of the atomic bomb still fails the doctrine of double effect’s second and even first conditions. The second condition is breached when we acknowledge that the ultimate goal of ending the war quickly was sought by the means or path of killing noncombatants. Even the first criterion is breached if we look at the nature of the weapon developed and the manner of its use, both of which clearly show the intention to be the destruction of a city without any discrimination between combatants and noncombatants.

It is with some trepidation that I come to this conclusion, realizing the ramifications of it for my countrymen, and even for the family reasons I mentioned in introductory section of this chapter. I should note that the primary goal here is not assigning blame, a task that would require the sort of analysis offered here and a consideration of things like duress and the formation of conscience (to determine, for example, whether there was invincible ignorance). Nor is the main goal here to determine whether dropping the bomb was some sort of cosmic or religious no-no, or artificially imposed restraint. The main goal here is to determine whether the act of using atomic bombs at the end of World War II best served the goal of restoring a just peace, or ius, which is certainly the goal of any just war. Despite the fact that precisely such a peace ensued, we rightly ask ourselves if that just peace was attained by dropping the atomic bomb, or whether the just peace ensued despite an act which may have ended armed conflict sooner, but which actually was not consonant with the generally otherwise just actions of the United States in a just war.

From this perspective, the rule of noncombatant immunity is not some artificial or externally imposed restriction on the actions of a corporate body (like a nation) seeking to restore and guard justice. It is a necessary requirement of those acts if the goal is truly to restore a just peace. Though it may seem like some odd rule about noncombatant immunity is the only thing keeping the atom bomb from being just, the claim here is that that noncombatant immunity is not some odd or random rule, but constitutive of pursuing ius justly (which is purposely redundant!). You may be able to stop a child’s bad behavior by an occasional brutal beating, but we rightly wonder whether such beatings corrupt not only the peace that ensues, but also the very characters of both the parent and child. The same is true of intentionally killing those who are to be protected by the very peace we are trying to establish.

In World War II, and certainly before and since, the United States generally observes noncombatant immunity, and rightly so. This should make us question anomalies like the atom bomb at Hiroshima (and obliteration bombing in Germany) even more. We should also beware the dire ramifications of deciding that noncombatant status is to be observed, except in drastic situations when one’s very way of life is threatened, a possible justification for events like the atom bomb.For more on this position, research John Rawls’s extreme-crisis exception. His discussion of it in the context of Hiroshima can be found in “Fifty Years After Hiroshima,” in his Collected Papers, ed. Samuel Freeman (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999) 565–72. Some today perceive precisely such a threat to their people, and respond to that perceived injustice by targeting innocent persons to kill. The United States suffered dearly at the hands of such people recently. What is most blatantly unjust about terrorism is the targeting of civilians, an ius in bello issue. We may also claim that the overall cause of these enemies is unjust, and it may well be. But surely the justice of their cause is further corrupted, if not eliminated, by intentionally killing innocents. And surely peoples of all nations would be better off if what governed their responses to perceived injustices were not only the conditions of ius ad bellum (which may indeed be contested), but also the conditions of ius in bello, including noncombatant immunity. The United States would do well to consider if the peace it pursues is one where noncombatant immunity can be suspended at times, and if we as a nation are willing to suffer at the hands of others who would similarly suspend this crucial portion of just-war theory.

Of course, a commitment to stand fast in observance of rules such as noncombatant immunity may entail more suffering before right relations are reestablished by means which are not antithetical to that peace. Living virtuously, even from a morality-of-happiness perspective, can entail great cost and suffering in our present condition. Acting in a manner constitutive of right relations renders one vulnerable to others who do not observe the same rules. Nowhere is this more evident than in questions of warfare, where the immediate cost of observing rules such as noncombatant immunity may imperil the lives of soldiers charged with defending the common good. Yet the difficulties posed by living virtuously are not limited to warfare. In fact, they are present in everyday life. And so it is fitting to turn now to the last of the cardinal virtues, fortitude, which deals precisely with facing difficulties and enduring suffering well.

1. According to the discussion of the situation in the summer of 1945, would you agree with this chapter’s claim that dropping the bomb was a proportionate use of force? Why? What conditions or factors do you think most morally relevant?

2. Why are there noncombatants in war? On what basis is noncombatant immunity determined?

3. Define the principle of double effect and give its conditions. Use it on an easy case to show how it works.

4. Does the bombing at Hiroshima pass or fail the doctrine of double effect? Explain your answer.

doctrine of double effect (including its conditions), noncombatant immunity, proportionality

1. Based on your position, how would you defeat or strengthen the argument of the first section?

2. How would you determine who counts as a noncombatant? Give some tough cases and say whether the person would be a legitimate target or not.

3. Do you think it is ever justifiable to intentionally kill noncombatants? Why or why not?

4. What difference, if any, is there between the terms enemy and noncombatant?

The most influential writing on this chapter is easily John Ford’s essay cited above, “The Morality of Obliteration Bombing.” Though written in 1944, and thus obviously not addressing the atom bomb, it is a model of clear moral analysis, and also addresses an issue that is very closely related to the dropping of the atomic bomb. It rewards close reading.

The literature on World War II in general, the development of the bomb, and the delivery and aftermath of the bomb is literally immense. The most formative pieces on this chapter include the exchange between Paul Fussell and Michael Walzer in the collection of essays entitled Thank God for the Atomic Bomb and Other Essays, and the exchange between Charles Landesman and Douglas Lackey in the 2003 volume of Philosophical Forum.