Chapter 8 seeks to untangle various issues in addressing when and how a state might be able to resort to the use of force in self-defence against non-state actors. It firstly raises some important general considerations in relation to self-defence against non-state actors, before moving on to examine the situation of self-defence measures which target both the non-state actors and the host state, as was the case with the United States’s response to the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001. A distinction needs to be made between self-defence taken against both the non-state actor perpetrators of the attack or those posing a threat and the state within which they are located, and those actions that are more limited in only specifically targeting the non-state actors. The chapter finally addresses the particular phenomenon of so-called targeted killing, which engages not only the jus ad bellum, but also the legal framework of international human rights law and, potentially, international humanitarian law.

The purpose of this chapter is to examine the use of force under the auspices of the UN, in particular the Security Council. Chapter 3 first sets out and examines the relevant provisions of the UN Charter and the division of competence between the various organs of the UN – the Security Council, the General Assembly and the Secretariat – to provide an understading as to how force was originally envisaged as being employed under the auspices of the UN. Given the Security Council’s primacy both within the Charter and in practice, the chapter goes on to examine the specific powers of the Council in relation to the use of forcible measures within the Charter and the limitations imposed upon these. Following this it then examines how these powers and responsibilities have been implemented in practice in both the Cold War and post-Cold War era. In particular, it has developed the practice of ‘authorising’ states, coalitions of states and regional organisations to use force to implement its mandate. The chapter finally addresses the relationship between the UN and regional – and, by extension, collective defence – organisations in the context of the use of force.

James Rebanks’s grandfather took pride in the careful way he watched and judged what was occurring each day with the land and livestock he farmed. Rebanks writes that when his grandfather stood looking over a gate, “he was figuring these things out by close and thoughtful observation.” In a meditation on the changing nature of the relationship British farmers have with the land they till and the animals they keep, Rebanks notes that this kind of deep attention is disappearing. “Managing animals the traditional way required specialist knowledge and judgment, and skilled people to care for them and understand their needs.” In an age of factory farming, such expertise “didn’t scale up easily for mass production.”

When my father died, my family and I needed a way to house and express our grief, bury his body, and gather with others to remember him. We could not conjure funeral practices out of nothing for ourselves; and even if we could have, we did not have the energy to do so. We were also confronted with having to navigate a vexed and primal moral question: What constitutes good care for the dead? Our tradition gave us words (Scripture and prayers), a ritual process (liturgies and funerary rites), institutions (the church and municipal cemetery), practices (bedside visitation by the priest, last rites, burial and memorial services), and virtues (truthfulness, hospitality, faith, hope, and love) for answering this question. It provided us with moral means to fulfill moral ends in a time of trouble.

Chapter 6 provides an overview of the general aspects of the right of self-defence. It first examines the concept of an ‘armed attack’ as found in Article 51, with the aim of shedding some light on the difficult issues and questions raised by this prerequisite for the invocation of the right of self-defence. It then goes on to provide an examination of the twin customary principles of necessity and proportionality, including a specific look at the controversial concept of armed reprisals, before moving on to examining military action for the protection of nationals who are located abroad. The right of self-defence exists in both individual and collective forms, and the chapter takes a specific look at the right of collective self-defence. Finally, it examines the role of the UN Security Council in the invocation and implementation of the right of self-defence, an aspect of the right which is prominent throughout Article 51.

Many students I’ve taught have been subject to legalistic and harmful forms of judgmentalism in either their church, community, or online interactions. In reaction against that legalism, they tend to practice a relativistic “you do you” approach to moral questions. In the name of tolerance and freedom, they see morality as a purely personal matter and are hesitant to make moral judgments about their own actions, let alone those of others. Yet this “live and let live” mentality undermines the pursuit of love and justice.

This chapter introduces the second general class of bargaining failure: information problems. If one side does not know how costly the other side views war, it may make an onerous demand. Opponents that have low costs reject, leading to war. Although this explanation for conflict is well known, many of its implications are misunderstood. The remainder of the chapter dispels some of them, showing that the probability of war can change as a function of the distribution of power and that more information might cause more conflict.

During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, doctors dealt with scarce resources and overwhelming need. In such situations, they had to engage in triage. A decision must be made, for example, about how to allocate ventilators. But should doctors allocate ventilators on a first come, first served basis? Or do they prioritize the sickest patients? Do they give ventilators to the essential personnel whose presence is most needed (e.g., medical staff or those required for maintaining critical infrastructure)? Or do they grant them to those most likely to survive? In the face of equally terrible possibilities, medical practitioners are still required to discern a morally responsible course of action. And they must act in real time without knowing what the outcome will be. Their actions are constrained both by their own limited knowledge and capacity and by a system that can’t or won’t give them the resources they need to solve the problem.

Chapter 4 addresses some of the issues that have arisen in connection with the ‘authorisation method’ that was set out in Chapter 3. It first examines some of the initial ways the Council has attempted to obtain a balance between multilaterialsm and unilateralism in the design and implementation of its resolutions which have authorised ‘all necessary means’. One issue that has not been resolved, and is apparent in many sections of this chapter, is the authority to interpret resolutions of the Security Council. In this respect, the chapter addresses the possibility of ‘reviving’ past authorisations, something that has thus far been restricted to the use of force in Iraq betweem 1991 and 2003. The chapter then examines the issue of determining the breadth and scope of an authorisation and the issues of ‘implied’ authorisation, in particular in attempts to enforce what might be perceived as the ‘collective will’ of the Council, as well as the Council providing what might be seen as retrospective or ex post facto authorisation or approval for military action. Finally, it addresses the issue of the forcible implementation of the ‘Responsibility to Protect’ concept by the Council.

This chapter introduces the canonical crisis bargaining model. Two states negotiate over a zero-sum good. If they fail to reach an agreement, they fight a costly war. The key insight is that, due to those costs, a range of settlements mutually preferable to war always exists. Thus any good theory of war must first explain why states did not reach one of those negotiated settlements.

This chapter applies the commitment problem logic to situations where it seems unrelated. More specifically, it applies when states can take more of the bargaining good than agreed to, when the size of the bargaining pie depends on pre-war investments, when the bargaining object cannot be cleanly divided, when the parties have risk-acceptant preferences, and when they can incur debt to gain an advantage in war.

Some years ago, I was involved in a community organizing coalition called London Citizens and its response to the financial crisis of 2007–2008. The coalition, which addressed issues ranging from street safety to the need for a living wage, was made up of churches, mosques, synagogues, trade unions, schools, resident associations, and universities. In the wake of the crisis, the coalition engaged in a process of listening to the folk who were part of the membership institutions to hear how the crisis, and the economic recession that came in its aftermath, was affecting them and what issues needed to be addressed. What became clear was that many were negatively affected by extortionate rates of interest charged by credit card companies, banks, and subprime lenders who at the same time were being bailed out by taxpayers’ money.

This chapter focuses on a particular type of commitment problem known as preventive war. When one side slowly grows more powerful over time, the declining state may prefer fighting a costly war in the present to enduring an efficient but disadvantaged peace later. However, the basic version of this logic only works when states cannot control their future power levels. If they can, and the opponent can monitor those decisions, peace prevails. Moreover, the states may wish to negotiate no power shift whatsoever to avoid paying the costs of weapons.