by Josef Steiff
Let’s say a state or group of states goes through the jus ad bellum criteria (for the moment, even lump in the problematic comparative justice) before initiating a conflict to make sure the war itself, as well as the political goals of the war, is just. This state (or group of states) will then have a clear vision about what it is fighting for. It will also have a clear vision about how it should direct its broader battlefield actions to achieve those larger political goals—the theater of war level strategy it will pursue to achieve those political goals (“We want to occupy this region and add it to our territory”). Now, there is still the requirement to ensure that the tactical battlefield actions are within jus en bello (“Let’s bomb that military facility, but make sure we don’t hit that museum two blocks away”), but it’s probably a safe assumption that if the proper homework has been done prior to getting into a war, this will be a manageable situation. This state, or group of states, will then have the ability to ensure that their efforts are consistently geared towards achieving the political goals and, more importantly, that when it has met its goals, it can stop the conflict. The war then would be constrained within just bounds and cannot become disconnected from the political goals that the state is attempting to achieve. If there is a disconnect in execution (a deliberate violation of jus en bello) or the goals are allowed to slip away from the initial just criteria (and so a loss of jus ad bellum) due to the force of war seeking an absolute state, then how will anyone be able to tell when the goals of the war have been met and victory is achieved?
Isn’t this where the Duchy of Zeon finds itself? A lot of the actions can’t easily be linked to achieving the political goals of independence. Within the first month of the One Year War, Federation forces were crippled by Zeon action: the vast majority of the Federation space combatant ships were destroyed or too heavily damaged to sail, many naval, air and land forces were destroyed in the environmental aftermath of the colony drop in Operation British.
Militarily, there was no way the Federation could oppose the Zeon, and at the negotiations about weapons of mass destruction in Antarctica, independence for the Duchy could have been established—achieving the political goal. Instead, the Zeon Earth Attack Force is formed and within a week of the conclusion of talks, Zeon forces begin to invade Earth itself, occupying two thirds of the planet within two months. Earth is too tempting to not invade: there would be access to additional resources for building more machines of war, and those resources would be denied to the Federation. But it does not help the Zeon achieve the goal of independence they initially claimed. Just the opposite, in fact: they now have to control and govern all of the land they now occupy, a resource intensive undertaking which sucks away people, materials, funds, and other resources from achieving their political goal.
The force of war has disconnected the military goal from the political goal and made it pre-eminent, shifting actions towards achieving military goals that are nested only within themselves and do nothing to achieve the political end. Soon the Zeon find themselves overstretched with no clear vision for what victory will look like. A small group of space colonies, taking on the rest of the human race in war should probably make sure that it knows what it wants and how it will go about getting it, or it can find itself in a vulnerable position. Because the One Year War is itself unjust when examined through Just War Theory, it’s not surprising that the Zeon did not use military force to achieve political goals, but instead had their goals used by that force for its own ends.
It has weaknesses, but Just War Theory provides a framework to ensure the limits placed on war by a state constitute something as close as may be possible to a morally justifiable position. And though the Just War Theory can be exploited by a state in the throes of militarism, it also provides a useful framework for identifying when a state in war may have drifted away from such a position, either as a result of the pull towards total war or the immorality of its leaders.
The Duchy of Zeon and the Neo-Zeon movement both demonstrate this, with their attempts to corrupt the Just War Theory for their own uses. The defeat of both of these elements in the One Year War and Second Zeon War respectively can’t be directly attributed to their inability to adhere to Just War Theory, but their attempts to corrupt the theory indicate a lack of understanding of the nature of war itself, as well as what they truly sought to accomplish by starting wars in the first place.
11
The Search for Vengeance
IAN M. PETERS
Of the characters that run to excess, he that exceeds in fearlessness has no name . . . but a man would be either a maniac or quite insensible to pain who should fear nothing, not even earthquakes and breakers, as they say is the case with the Celts.
—ARISTOTLE, Nicomachean Ethics, Book III, Chapter 6
What is courage? Is it defined by what motivates us to perform certain actions or is it found in the actions themselves? It is often said that one man’s hero is another man’s coward. How, then, do we determine what acts are courageous, and what acts are cowardly? Definitions of each are largely open to interpretation and are usually defined differently by everyone. In Book III, Chapter 6 of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle explores these concepts and proposes a possible means of determining each state of being. Aristotle argues that courage is determined by how we balance feelings of confidence and fear in relation to death, pain, and loss. It is through experiencing these concepts without giving in to their negative influences that the actions of both a hero and a coward emerge. This struggle for balance, and Aristotle’s debate, epitomizes Colin MacLeod’s journey in Yoshiaki Kawajiri’s Highlander: The Search For Vengeance.
In a post-apocalyptic New York, Colin MacLeod searches for Marcus Octavius, a former Roman general and fellow Immortal, who murdered his beloved wife Moya two thousand years ago. In this dark depiction of mankind’s future, the twenty-second-century world has fallen into chaos and ruin after a century of terrorism, pollution, and disease. Petty dictators have set up nation states where countries used to thrive, and civilization—as we currently know it—is gone. Tyrants like Marcus Octavius govern over a state’s elite, providing them with a clean golden castle to live in, while the lower classes are forced to scavenge in the ruined (and diseased) remains of the surrounding city. Using an army of human soldiers and samurai spider-robots, Marcus governs his kingdom, the remains of New York City, with an iron fist, wiping out any insurrection that may threaten his new “Rome.” It was he that released a virus that killed most of the population, and he plans to finish the job with a new, deadlier strain, with any survivors under his control for all time. MacLeod, however, does not care about the state of this new world or anyone living in it. All he cares about is finding the person who killed his wife.
Courageous Crusader or Avenging Coward?
In the Highlander universe, first depicted in live-action movies before it was taken up by anime in Highlander: The Search for Vengeance, Immortals participate in what is referred to as “the game,” where they fight other Immortals in combat to the death (which can only occur through decapitation). By decapitating their opponent, the winner experiences what is known as “the quickening,” where the strength, knowledge, and experience of the loser flows into the victor and makes him stronger. The ultimate goal is to be the last Immortal on the planet, where the victor has the strength, knowledge, and experience of every Immortal who has ever lived. Immortals can sense the presence of other Immortals, which acts as a defense mechanism so that one cannot sneak up on another using surprise attacks.
While the majority of the live-action Highlander films, TV series, and even the animated series, feature an Immortal descended from the Clan MacLeod, Colin MacLeod is unique to Highlander: The Search For Vengeance and has not been seen in any of the franchise’s earlier incarnations. This first anime entry in the franchise also presents a vision of Highlander that is quite different from most of its previous incarnations, incorporating commonly utilized anime constructs. Kawajiri states t
hat he wanted to “bring out the best . . . that the writer [of the original Highlander] had offered . . . while still adding [his] own interpretation” that incorporates the Highlander universe into the realm of the anime experience (“A Talk with Kawajiri,” Highlander: The Search For Vengeance, DVD, 2006; Stars Home Entertainment, 2007).
Colin MacLeod is undeniably a skilled warrior and has overcome great obstacles in his search for Marcus, but is his two-thousand-year quest for vengeance an act of bravery or cowardice? His entire existence for the past two millennia has been focused solely on a quest to track down Marcus and kill him, as he clings to the memory of what he has lost instead of striving to find new purpose in his life. MacLeod continually throws himself into harm’s way, risking his immortality in his seemingly never-ending quest. Whether MacLeod’s actions are motivated solely by his need to avenge the death of his wife or are a sign that he is too cowardly to live his life without her is open for debate.
Is seeking vengeance for thousands of years an act of bravery or cowardice? Immediately it can be argued, as Aristotle does, that an act of vengeance, which is a product of rage and pain, is not the action of a courageous man. There are, however, other factors that need to be considered before any final conclusions can be drawn regarding MacLeod’s situation, as he is unlike any mortal being that Aristotle discussed. Specifically, is Colin MacLeod truly motivated by pain (to seek vengeance) or can his cause be seen as something nobler? Aristotle’s argument on courage and cowardice requires an understanding of not only the actions of a person, but of the motives that drive a person to take those actions. For instance, performing certain courageous and “noble” actions, such as fighting in a war, cannot be seen as being courageous if the motivation behind those actions is not “noble” (such as fighting for glory, to escape some other pain, run away from problems, etc.). Therefore, the courageousness or cowardice of MacLeod’s quest for vengeance cannot be fully assessed until his motivations are revealed.
War and the Pursuit of Vengeance
Everyone has different ways of defining courage and cowardice, and what one person perceives to be courageous may be seen as cowardly by someone else. Such is the case with Colin MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, where his perception of himself is oftentimes the opposite of what others see. After spending thousands of years focusing on nothing other than avenging Moya’s death, MacLeod is seen as single-minded, selfish, and (sometimes) dangerously insane by those around him. While it is possible that he could be killed if Marcus or another foe cuts off his head, Colin MacLeod is virtually indestructible and therefore his quest for vengeance does not have the same physical implications as it would for a mortal. Death, time, and mortality do not mean the same thing to an Immortal like MacLeod, since he has it within his power to—most of the time—cheat death, the aging process, and the passage of time. So, can his never-ending quest be a courageous act if he is not susceptible to the same mortal conditions as everyone else?
The concept of mortality and how we face its consequences and implications plays an important role in Aristotle’s debate on courage and cowardice. He argues that courage is determined by how we balance feelings of confidence and fear, specifically when facing an honorable death. Fear, Aristotle says, is “excited by evil of any kind” and courage is found in walking the line between the “good” that inspires confidence and the “evil” that destroys it.
Since notions of courage and cowardice are oftentimes open to interpretation, Aristotle argues that courage can only be found in facing the most universal fear: the fear of death. Death, which is identified as the most “terrible” fear, “is our limit” since when we are dead, “there is no longer good or evil” inside of us. A courageous person is therefore someone “who fearlessly faces an honorable death and all sudden emergencies which involve death,” and the greatest emergency, in this sense, is war. To act courageously in war is to commit oneself to the battle willingly and acting nobly in complete understanding that such a situation could lead to your death.
Can Colin MacLeod’s quest for vengeance be contextualized as a war; a great emergency? If nobility can be found in risking your life in what Aristotle argues as a noble cause, then determining the status of MacLeod’s battle with Marcus is paramount to understanding whether it is an act of courage or cowardice. MacLeod’s quest against Marcus Octavius began during a war, when MacLeod was fighting to protect his people from Marcus’s invading Roman forces two thousand years ago. This situation, when applied to Aristotle’s criteria, would qualify as being a prime opportunity for courageous action on the part of Colin MacLeod. However, this war is short lived (as MacLeod’s army was wiped out during the first skirmish) and MacLeod spends the next two thousand years trying to kill Marcus for what he has done. Can MacLeod’s actions qualify as being a continuation of the war that began it all? Others may see MacLeod as fighting not out of a willingness to face an honorable death but out of pain inspired by the loss of his wife. MacLeod, however, may see things differently.
Death, Pain, Rage, and Loss
When determining whether or not MacLeod’s quest is courageous or cowardly, we have to look at several specific factors (death, pain, rage, and loss), and how they each affect the Highlander’s actions and his uniquely immortal life.
First let’s look at the concept of death. MacLeod is virtually immortal, and therefore his “death” is contextually a bit different than what Aristotle had considered in his initial debate on the subject. Colin MacLeod is not restricted to the same limited lifespan of ordinary humans, and his quest therefore can continue indefinitely (unless his head is cut off). Unlike the situations examined by Aristotle, MacLeod’s journey began with his death, although that death was not permanent, and he didn’t fully understand his immortal status until after the destruction of his village and his initial post-first death attack on Marcus.
In the Highlander stories, all Immortals are foundlings who have no knowledge of their origins. They continue to age normally until they experience their “first death,” which is the first time they are killed. To become an Immortal, they need to die a violent death (which does not include disease, old age, or other natural causes). After this event, they are revived by whatever mystical forces that give Immortals their power, and from that point on they do not age again. If they’re killed (apart from having their head cut off), Immortals come back to life after a few moments (or hours, days, or longer, depending on the extent of the damage) and show no physical sign of their injuries. The only exceptions are if a limb gets cut off or if they experience a major wound to their head, such as the scar running down Colin MacLeod’s face.
After having his head nearly cut in half, MacLeod is informed by his spirit guide, Amergan, that he is an Immortal. Since MacLeod first attacks Marcus without knowing of his special ability, is it not possible that MacLeod, at least at the beginning, entered into his quest fully believing that his actions could lead to his own destruction? When it is revealed that he can only permanently die after being decapitated, MacLeod still continues to fight Octavius, knowing that this man has the ability to end MacLeod’s life forever. Does this therefore count as courageously facing death?
Aristotle argues that, in order for an act to be courageous, the person needs to be able to feel pain and, like death, understand its implications. According to Aristotle, “men are called courageous for enduring painful things,” for being “insensible to pain” is the sign of a “foolhardy” braggart who hides their cowardice behind false courage. MacLeod still feels pain, which means he is not “insensible” to such things. However, is his tolerance to pain different than that of a normal man since he knows that, barring decapitation, his wounds will always heal?
While Aristotle argues that a courageous person needs to be able to feel pain and, in turn, face it honorably and without fear, he does not specify as to whether or not that pain actually needs to be lethal. As with everyone who dies in combat, a lethal blow is incomparable to a non-lethal blow, as no other wo
und would carry the same outcome or consequence (being decapitated would bring with it a different type of pain than being stabbed through the chest). While MacLeod will not remain dead from any wound other than decapitation, he still nonetheless feels pain and experiences “death,” albeit not a permanent one. The threat of complete and utter death still remains, and MacLeod faces that possibility every time he goes into combat. Therefore, it can be argued that Colin MacLeod is still capable of dying a hero’s death in the pursuit of his cause because he willingly puts his life on the line.
While physical pain is necessary to behaving courageously, it cannot be the sole driving force behind that person’s intentions. To be moved by pain is to be a “wild beast” or, as Aristotle at one point says, “is the case with the Celts.” At the time Aristotle wrote that book, the Celts were considered by many in Greece to be uncontrollable savages, and their motivations were seen as such. While we know that this is not the case, Aristotle’s argument that it is foolhardy for someone to be “quite insensible to pain” still has its merits (if we ignore the racial slurs). The existence of pain and how susceptible we are to its sting oftentimes helps us contextualize what is truly at stake in a situation (such as war or combat). However, it is important to remember that pain is not solely a physical construct. To fully examine MacLeod’s actions we must also take into consideration how emotional pain can be a driving force in his life and in the pursuit of his quest.
