In the Crusades, getting the Holy Land back was the goal, and
In the Crusades, getting the Holy Land back was the goal, and any means could be used to achieve it. World War II was a crusade. The firebombing of Tokyo by Doolittle and the carpet bombing in Germany, especially by the British, showed that.
O children of the future, heed the words of Stanley Hauerwas, a man who speaks with the weight of history and the understanding of human nature. He said, "In the Crusades, getting the Holy Land back was the goal, and any means could be used to achieve it. World War II was a crusade. The firebombing of Tokyo by Doolittle and the carpet bombing in Germany, especially by the British, showed that." These words, though blunt, offer a profound lesson about the nature of war, the righteousness of causes, and the costs that come with pursuing even the noblest of goals. Let us reflect on their meaning, for within them lies a truth that spans the ages.
To understand Hauerwas’ words, one must first turn to the Crusades, that ancient series of wars fought in the name of religion, in the hope of reclaiming the Holy Land. The Crusaders, driven by a sense of divine purpose, believed that their mission was just, that they were fulfilling a sacred duty to recover the lands of Christ from the infidels. In their minds, the goal justified the means, and the horrors they inflicted upon those in their path—whether Muslims or fellow Christians—were seen as necessary sacrifices in the pursuit of a holy cause. Bloodshed, deception, and violence were all deemed acceptable tools, for the end was righteous, and the path to the end, however dark, was of secondary concern.
Now, look to the words of Hauerwas as he compares these ancient wars to World War II, the most devastating conflict the world has ever known. World War II, in its own way, became a kind of crusade for the Allied powers, particularly the United States and Britain, who fought against the forces of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. The goal was clear: to stop the spread of fascism, to defeat the forces of evil, and to ensure that tyranny did not reign across the globe. But, like the Crusaders of old, the allies were forced to ask themselves: at what cost? In their pursuit of victory, they resorted to firebombing, to the destruction of entire cities, to the killing of thousands of innocent civilians in their quest to break the will of the enemy.
Consider, O children, the firebombing of Tokyo by General James Doolittle, the first American raid on Japan in 1942. Though the raid was small in scale, it marked the beginning of an era of devastating aerial bombings. As the war progressed, these attacks would escalate into the carpet bombing of cities like Dresden and Berlin by the British. The intention was to break the morale of the German people, to bring the war to their doorstep and force them to surrender. The destruction was immense, and thousands of innocent lives were lost, including women, children, and the elderly. The question that haunted the minds of the leaders was this: was it worth it? The war had to be won, but at what cost?
Hauerwas’ comparison between the Crusades and World War II is not to suggest that the Nazi regime or Imperial Japan were justified in their actions, but to make us confront a harsh reality: in war, even the noblest of causes can lead to atrocities when the goal becomes so urgent that the means to achieve it are no longer questioned. The righteousness of the cause—the desire to stop tyranny, to preserve freedom, and to end suffering—can blind even the most noble hearts to the moral cost of their decisions. In their pursuit of a victory that would preserve civilization, the allies, in their own way, repeated the mistakes of those who had gone before them, believing that the end would justify the means.
Now, O children, the lesson for you is clear: never lose sight of the means by which you pursue your goals, no matter how noble those goals may seem. The cost of victory is not always measured in the bloodshed on the battlefield, but in the soul of the nation that wages the war. Each bomb dropped, each life lost, takes a piece of humanity from us all. Even in the most justified of wars, there is always a line between the necessary and the inhumane. You must understand that the path to peace is as important as the goal of peace itself. Victory, when achieved through moral compromise, can leave scars that never heal, that linger long after the battle is won.
Therefore, children, let these words echo in your hearts: when you face a challenge, a conflict, or a cause, ask yourself not just what the end is, but what path you will take to get there. Just as the Crusaders were forced to face the darkness of their actions, so too must you always question the methods you use to achieve your goals. Seek not only victory, but justice; not only success, but humanity. Remember, the greatest leaders are not those who win at all costs, but those who find a way to preserve the dignity of all while striving for a better future.
In the end, O children, the true lesson is this: war is not just a clash of armies, it is a test of the very soul of a people. The battle for peace, for justice, must be waged with care, for the consequences of our actions can echo for generations. Let your victories be won not through the compromise of values, but through the strength of your moral compass. And in all things, let it be your guiding star.
TTTran Tong
Reading this, I feel torn. On one hand, World War II was a fight against tyranny; on the other, Hauerwas is right that it involved moral compromises. The phrase 'any means could be used' captures the dangerous power of certainty. Once a war becomes a crusade, restraint disappears. It makes me question how societies remember such wars—do we honor the cause while ignoring the suffering inflicted in its name?
NQHuynh Ngoc Nhu Quynh
I think Hauerwas is forcing readers to confront uncomfortable truths about human nature in war. Even when fighting evil, nations can adopt the same logic of 'any means necessary' that once justified religious violence. It’s a sobering thought. Are we ever really past the mindset of the Crusades, or do we simply replace divine authority with national righteousness? His words invite us to reflect on how easily morality becomes a weapon itself.
THLE THI THAO HUYEN
This quote unsettles me because it blurs the line between holy zeal and national warfare. By calling World War II a 'crusade,' Hauerwas implies that moral certainty can lead to moral blindness. I find myself asking: when a cause feels absolutely just, do we become less willing to question the cost? The firebombing examples he gives make it clear—good intentions can still produce monstrous outcomes when framed as moral absolutes.
QBNguyen Quoc Bao
Hauerwas’s comparison between the Crusades and World War II is provocative. It challenges the idea that the latter was purely a 'good war' fought for freedom and justice. As a reader, I’m struck by his moral framing—suggesting that even righteous causes can justify horrific means. It makes me wonder: can any war truly be called moral if victory requires the destruction of entire cities? Or does necessity erase ethics in times of total war?