## 1. The conceptual issue



The history of terrorism is probably coextensive with the history of
political violence. The term "terrorism", however, is
relatively recent: it has been in use since late 18th century. Its use
has repeatedly shifted in some significant respects. Moreover, in
contemporary political discourse the word is often employed as a
polemical term whose strong emotional charge occludes its somewhat
vague descriptive meaning. All this tends to get in the way of
sustained rational discussion of the nature and moral standing of
terrorism and the best ways of coping with it.


### 1.1 "Terrorism" from the French Revolution to the early 21st century


#### 1.1.1 The reign of terror



When it first entered public discourse in the West, the word
"terrorism" meant the reign of terror the Jacobins imposed
in France from the fall of 1793 to the summer of 1794. Its ultimate
aim was the reshaping of both society and human nature. That was to be
achieved by destroying the old regime, suppressing all enemies of the
revolutionary government, and inculcating and enforcing civic virtue.
A central role in attaining these objectives was accorded to
revolutionary tribunals which had wide authority, were constrained by
very few rules of procedure, and saw their task as carrying out
revolutionary policy rather than meting out legal justice of the more
conventional sort. They went after "enemies of the
people", actual or potential, proven or suspected; the law on
the basis of which they were operating "enumerated just who the
enemies of the people might be in terms so ambiguous as to exclude no
one" (Carter 1989: 142). The standard punishment was death.
Trials and executions were meant to strike terror in the hearts of all
who lacked civic virtue; the Jacobins believed that was a necessary
means of consolidating the new regime. This necessity provided both
the rationale of the reign of terror and its moral justification. As
Robespierre put it, terror was but "an emanation of
virtue"; without it, virtue remained impotent. Accordingly, the
Jacobins applied the term to their own actions and policies quite
unabashedly, without any negative connotations.


#### 1.1.2 Propaganda by the deed



Yet the term "terrorism" and its cognates soon took on
very strong negative connotations. Critics of the excesses of the
French Revolution had watched its reign with horror from the start.
Terrorism came to be associated with drastic abuse of power and
related to the notion of tyranny as rule based on fear, a recurring
theme in political philosophy.



In the second half of the 19th century, there was a shift in both
descriptive and evaluative meaning of the term. Disillusioned with
other methods of political struggle, some anarchist and other
revolutionary organizations, and subsequently some nationalist groups
too, took to political violence. They had come to the conclusion that
words were not enough, and what was called for were deeds: extreme,
dramatic deeds that would strike at the heart of the unjust,
oppressive social and political order, generate fear and despair among
its supporters, demonstrate its vulnerability to the oppressed, and
ultimately force political and social change. This was
"propaganda by the deed", and the deed was for the most
part assassination of royalty or highly placed government officials.
Unlike the Jacobins' reign of terror, which operated in a
virtually indiscriminate way, this type of terrorism--as both
advocates and critics called it--was largely employed in a highly
discriminate manner. This was especially true of Russian revolutionary
organizations such as People's Will or Socialist Revolutionary
Party (SR): they held that it was morally justified to assassinate a
government official only if his complicity in the oppressive regime
was significant enough for him to deserve to die, *and* the
assassination would make an important contribution to the struggle.
Their violence steered clear of other, uninvolved or insufficiently
involved persons. Some instances of "propaganda by the
deed" carried out by French and Spanish anarchists in the 1880s
and 1890s were indiscriminate killings of common citizens; but that
was an exception, rather than the rule. The perpetrators and some of
those sympathetic to their cause claimed those acts were nevertheless
morally legitimate, whether as retribution (exacted on the assumption
that no member of the ruling class was innocent) or as a means
necessary for the overthrow of the unjust order. Accordingly, in their
parlance, too, the term "terrorism" implied no censure.
When used by others, it conveyed a strong condemnation of the
practice.


#### 1.1.3 The state as terrorist



The terrorism employed by both sides in the Russian Revolution and
Civil War was in important respects a throwback to that of the
Jacobins. The government set up in Russia by the victorious Bolsheviks
was totalitarian. So was the Nazi rule in Germany. Both sought to
impose total political control on society. Such a radical aim could
only be pursued by a similarly radical method: by terrorism directed
by an extremely powerful political police at an atomized and
defenseless population. Its success was due largely to its arbitrary
character--to the unpredictability of its choice of victims. In
both countries, the regime first suppressed all opposition; when it no
longer had any opposition to speak of, political police took to
persecuting "potential" and "objective
opponents". In the Soviet Union, it was eventually unleashed on
victims chosen at random. Totalitarian terrorism is the most extreme
and sustained type of state terrorism. As Hannah Arendt put it,
"terror is the essence of totalitarian domination", and
the concentration camp is "the true central institution of
totalitarian organizational power" (Arendt 1958: 464, 438).
While students of totalitarianism talked of terrorism as its method of
rule, representatives of totalitarian regimes, sensitive to the
pejorative connotation of the word, portrayed the practice as defense
of the state from internal enemies.



However, state terrorism is not the preserve of totalitarian regimes.
Some non-totalitarian states have resorted to terrorism against enemy
civilians as a method of warfare, most notably when the RAF and USAAF
bombed German and Japanese cities in World War II (see Lackey 2004).
Those who designed and oversaw these campaigns never publicly
described them as "terror bombing", but that was how they
often referred to them in internal communications.


#### 1.1.4 Terrorists and freedom fighters



After the heyday of totalitarian terrorism in the 1930s and 1940s,
internal state terrorism continued to be practiced by military
dictatorships in many parts of the world, albeit in a less sustained
and pervasive way. But the type of terrorism that came to the fore in
the second half of the 20th century and in early 21st century is that
employed by insurgent organizations. Many movements for national
liberation from colonial rule resorted to it, either as the main
method of struggle or as a tactic complementing guerrilla warfare. So
did some separatist movements. Some organizations driven by extreme
ideologies, in particular on the left, took to terrorism as
*the* way of trying to destroy what they considered an unjust,
oppressive economic, social and political system. This type of
terrorism is, by and large, indiscriminate in its choice of target: it
attacks men and women of whatever political (or apolitical) views,
social class, and walk of life; young and old, adults and children. It
shoots at people, or blows them up by planting bombs, in office
buildings, markets, cafes, cinemas, places of religious worship, on
buses or planes, or in other vulnerable public places. It also takes
people hostage, by hijacking planes and in other ways.



As "terrorism" has by now acquired a very strong
pejorative meaning, no-one applies the word to their own actions or to
actions and campaigns of those they sympathize with. Insurgents
practicing terrorism portray their actions as struggle for liberation
and seek to be considered and treated as soldiers rather than
terrorists or criminals. They often depict their enemy--the alien
government, or the agencies of the social, political and economic
system--as the "true terrorists". For them, the test
of terrorism is not *what is done*, but rather what the
*ultimate aim* of doing it is. If the ultimate aim is
liberation or justice, the violence used in order to attain it is not
terrorism, whereas the violence aiming at maintaining oppression or
injustice, or some of the "structural violence" embodying
it, is. On the other hand, governments tend to paint all insurgent
violence with the brush of "terrorism". Government
spokespersons and pro-government media typically assume that terrorism
is by definition something done by non-state agents, and that a state
can never be guilty of terrorism (although it can sponsor terrorist
organizations). For them, the test of terrorism is not *what is
done*, but *who* does it. When a state agency uses
violence, it is an act of war, or reprisal, or defense of the security
of the state and its citizens; when an insurgent group does the same,
it is terrorism. Under these circumstances, one person's
terrorist is indeed another's freedom fighter, and public debate
about terrorism is largely conducted at cross purposes and to little
effect. Attempts of the United Nations to propose a definition of
"terrorism" that could be accepted by all states and
embedded in international law so far have been frustrated by the same
sort of relativism. Islamic countries would accept no definition that
allowed national liberation movements in the Middle East and Kashmir
to be portrayed as terrorist, whereas Western countries would accept
no definition that allowed for state agencies to be guilty of
terrorism.


### 1.2 Two core traits of terrorism and two types of definition


#### 1.2.1 Violence and terror



The evaluative meaning of "terrorism" has shifted
considerably more than once. So has its descriptive meaning, but to a
lesser degree. Whatever else the word may have meant, its ordinary use
over more than two centuries has typically indicated two things:
violence and intimidation (the causing of great fear or terror,
terrorizing). The dominant approach to the conceptual question in
philosophical literature reflects this. Terrorism is usually
understood as a type of violence. This violence is not blind or
sadistic, but rather aims at intimidation and at some further
political, social, or religious goal or, more broadly, at
coercion.



That is how (political) "terrorism" is defined by Per
Bauhn in the first philosophical book-length study in English:



> 
> The performance of violent acts, directed against one or more persons,
> intended by the performing agent to intimidate one or more persons and
> thereby to bring about one or more of the agent's political
> goals (Bauhn 1989: 28).
> 



Another good example of a mainstream definition is provided in C.A.J.
Coady's article on terrorism in the *Encyclopedia of
Ethics*:



> 
> The tactic of intentionally targeting non-combatants [or non-combatant
> property, when significantly related to life and security] with lethal
> or severe violence ... meant to produce political results via the
> creation of fear (Coady 2001: 1697).
> 



Yet another example is the definition proposed by Igor Primoratz:



> 
> The deliberate use of violence, or threat of its use, against innocent
> people, with the aim of intimidating some other people into a course
> of action they otherwise would not take (Primoratz 2013: 24).
> 



These definitions put aside both the question of who the actor is and
the question of what their ultimate objectives are, and focus on
*what is done* and what the *proximate* *aim* of
doing it is. They present terrorism as a way of acting that could be
adopted by different agents and serve various ultimate objectives
(most, but perhaps not all of them, political). It can be employed by
states or by non-state agents, and may promote national liberation or
oppression, revolutionary or conservative causes (and possibly pursue
some nonpolitical aims as well). One can be a terrorist *and* a
freedom fighter; terrorism is not the monopoly of enemies of freedom.
One can hold high government or military office *and* design or
implement a terrorist campaign; terrorism is not the preserve of
insurgents. In this way much of the relativism concerning who is and
who is not a terrorist that has plagued contemporary public debate
(see 1.1.4 above) can be overcome.



Beyond concurring that violence and intimidation constitute the core
of terrorism, the definitions quoted above differ in several respects.
Does only actual violence count, or do threats of violence also
qualify? Must terrorist violence be directed against life and limb, or
does violence against (some) property also count? Does terrorism
always seek to attain some political goal, or can there be
non-political (e.g. criminal) terrorism? All these points are minor.
There is also one major difference: while Coady and Primoratz define
terrorism as violence against non-combatants or innocent people,
respectively, Bauhn's definition includes no such restriction.
Definitions of the former type can be termed "narrow", and
those of the latter sort "wide". Philosophical literature
on terrorism abounds in instances of both types.


#### 1.2.2 Wide and narrow definitions



Should we adopt a wide or a narrow definition? A wide definition
encompasses the entire history of "terrorism" from the
Jacobins to the present, and is more in accord with current ordinary
use. A narrow definition departs from much ordinary use by restricting
terrorist violence to that directed at non-combatants or innocent
persons. Thus it leaves out most of 19th century "propaganda by
the deed" and political violence perpetrated by Russian
revolutionaries which they themselves and the public called
terrorist.



For these reasons, historians of terrorism normally work with a wide
definition, and social scientists do so much of the time. But
philosophers may well prefer a narrow definition. They focus on the
moral standing of terrorism and need a definition that is particularly
helpful in moral discourse. Morally speaking, surely there is a
difference--for some, a world of difference--between
planting a bomb in a government building and killing a number of
highly placed officials of (what one considers) an unjust and
oppressive government, and planting a bomb in a tea shop and killing a
random collection of common citizens, including children. While both
acts raise serious moral issues, these issues are not identical, and
running them together under the same heading of
"terrorism" will likely hamper, rather than help,
discerning moral assessment.



Narrow definitions are revisionary, but (unlike those discussed in the
next section) not implausibly so. They focus on the traits of
terrorism that cause most of us to view the practice with deep moral
repugnance: (i) violence (ii) against non-combatants (or,
alternatively, against innocent people) for the sake of (iii)
intimidation (and, on some definitions, (iv) coercion). In
highlighting (ii), they relate the issue of terrorism to the ethics of
war and one of the fundamental principles of just war theory, that of
non-combatant immunity. They help distinguish terrorism from acts of
war proper and political assassination, which do not target
non-combatants or common citizens. It does not matter very much
whether the victims of terrorism are described as
"non-combatants" or "innocent people", as each
term is used in a technical sense, and both refer to those who have
not lost their immunity against lethal or other extreme violence by
being directly involved in, or highly responsible for, (what
terrorists consider) insufferable injustice or oppression. In war,
these are innocent civilians; in a violent conflict that falls short
of war, these are common citizens.



Talk of involvement of individuals and groups in injustice or
oppression raises the question: is the injustice or oppression at
issue, and thus the standing of those implicated in it, to be
determined by some objective criteria, or from the point of view of
those who resort to violence? Coady chooses the former option. He
approaches terrorism from the standpoint of just war theory and its
principle of noncombatant immunity. "Combatants" is a
technical term designating agents of aggression or, more broadly,
"dangerous wrongdoers" or "agents of harm";
they are legitimate targets of potentially lethal violence. All others
are noncombatants, and enjoy immunity from such violence (Coady 2004).
This approach may not be difficult to apply in war, where the wrong or
harm at issue is either aggression that needs to be repelled, or
systematic and large-scale violations of human rights that provide the
ground for humanitarian intervention. Issues of injustice or
oppression that arise in an internal conflict that falls short of war,
however, tend to be highly contentious: what some consider an
imperfect, but basically morally legitimate political and social
order, others may see as the epitome of injustice and oppression that
must be overthrown, if need be by violence. Under such circumstances,
when a highly placed political official is killed by insurgents, that
may be characterized (and condemned) by many as an act of terrorism,
while the insurgents and those sympathetic to their struggle may
reject this characterization and portray (and justify) the killing as
political assassination.



In order to avoid this kind of relativism, Primoratz puts forward a
view that in one important respect takes on board the standpoint of
the terrorist. The direct victims of terrorism are innocent in the
sense of not being responsible, on any credible understanding of
responsibility and liability, for the injustice or oppression the
terrorists fight against--not responsible at all, or at least not
responsible to the degree that makes them liable to be killed or
maimed on that account. The injustice or oppression at issue need not
be real; it may be merely alleged (by the terrorists). Being
responsible for a merely alleged great injustice or oppression is
enough for losing one's immunity against violence, as far as the
type of immunity and innocence relevant to defining terrorism is
concerned. According to the traditional version of just war theory one
does not lose immunity against acts of war only by fighting in an
unjust war, but by fighting in any war. Similarly, one does not lose
immunity against political violence only by holding office in or
implementing policies of a gravely unjust government, but by holding
office in or implementing policies of any government: as King Umberto
I of Italy said after surviving an assassination attempt, such risk
comes with the job. Members of these two classes are not considered
innocent and morally protected against violence by those attacking
them; the latter view their acts as acts of war proper or of political
assassination, respectively. If the terrorists subscribe to a credible
view of responsibility and liability, then, when they attack common
citizens, they attack people innocent from their own point of view,
i.e., innocent even if we grant the terrorists their assessment of the
policies at issue. (This is not to say that those who consider a
government to be gravely unjust have a moral license to kill its
officials, but only that if they do so, that will not be terrorism,
but rather political assassination. We can still condemn their actions
if we reject their judgment of the policies at issue, or if we accept
that judgment, but believe that they should have opposed those
policies by nonviolent means. But we will not be condemning their
actions *qua* terrorism.)



On this account, not only real, but also merely alleged injustice or
oppression counts in determining the innocence of the victims and
deciding which acts are acts of terrorism; thus such decisions are not
hostage to endless debates about the moral status of contested
policies. Nevertheless, a residue of relativity remains. The account
presupposes a certain understanding of responsibility and liability: a
person is responsible for a state of affairs only by virtue of that
person's voluntary, i.e., informed and free, act or omission
that has a sufficiently strong connection with that state of affairs,
and thereby becomes liable to some proportionately unfavorable
response. Provided the terrorists accept some such understanding of
responsibility and liability, they kill and maim people they
themselves must admit to be innocent. To be sure, some militant
organizations resort to violence which we perceive as terrorist, yet
object to the label. They profess a view of responsibility and
liability based on extremely far-fetched connections between states of
affairs and human choices and actions, and argue that entire social
classes or nations are responsible for certain policies and practices
and all their members are liable to be attacked by deadly violence
(for more on this, see 2.1 below). Such arguments can only be regarded
as preposterous. We should insist on viewing their actions as
terrorist, although they reject this description. It is not clear how
this residue of relativity could be removed (Primoratz 2013:
16-21).



Some object to defining "terrorism" as violence against
non-combatants or innocent persons. They argue that doing so runs
together the question of the nature of terrorism and that of its moral
status, and begs the moral issue by making terrorism unjustified by
definition. We should rather keep these questions separate, and take
care not to prejudge the latter by giving a wrong answer to the
former. What is needed is a morally neutral definition of terrorism,
and that means a wide one (Corlett 2003: 114-20, 134-35;
Young 2004: 57). But it is doubtful that "terrorism" can
be defined in some morally untainted way. The wide definitions these
philosophers adopt contain the word "violence", which is
itself morally loaded. A narrow definition is not completely morally
neutral, as violence against the innocent is clearly morally wrong.
But what is clear is that such violence is *prima facie* wrong.
The definition implies a general presumption against terrorism, not
its sweeping moral condemnation in each and every instance, whatever
the circumstances and whatever the consequences of desisting from it.
The definition does not rule out that in certain circumstances it
might not be wrong, all things considered. Ethical investigation is
not preempted: a particular case of terrorism still needs to be judged
on its merits.



Another way of settling the issue of wide vs. narrow definition is
offered by Georg Meggle. He adopts a wide definition of terrorism, and
goes on to distinguish two different types: terrorism in the strong
sense, which deliberately, recklessly, or negligently harms innocent
people, and terrorism in the weak sense, which does not. Obviously,
the moral assessment of the two types of terrorism is going to be
significantly different (Meggle 2005).


#### 1.2.3 Some idiosyncratic definitions



The vast majority of cases almost anyone without an ax to grind would
want to classify as "terrorism" exhibit the two traits
implied in ordinary use and highlighted by mainstream philosophical
definitions such as those quoted above: violence and intimidation. But
philosophical literature also offers definitions that leave out one or
the other core component.



Some seek to sever the connection between terrorism and violence. Carl
Wellman defines terrorism as "the use or attempted use of terror
as a means of coercion". Terrorism is often associated with
violence, but that is because violence is a very effective means of
intimidation. Yet "violence is not essential to terrorism and,
in fact, most acts of terrorism are nonviolent" (Wellman 1979:
250-51). The last claim seems false on any non-circular
interpretation. There may be many acts generally considered terrorist
that do not involve *actual* violence, but are meant to
intimidate by *threatening* it; but that is not enough to
support the notion of "non-violent terrorism", which seems
odd. So does Wellman's example of "classroom
terrorism": a professor threatens to fail students who submit
their essays after the due date, causes panic in class, and thereby
engages in terrorism.



Robert E. Goodin offers a similar account, emphasizing the political
role of terrorism: terrorism is "a political tactic, involving
the deliberate frightening of people for political advantage"
(Goodin 2006: 49). This, he claims, is the distinctive wrong
terrorists commit. Whereas on Wellman's account one can commit
an act of terrorism without either engaging in or threatening
violence, merely by making a threat in order to intimidate, on
Goodin's account one need not even make a threat: one acts as a
terrorist by merely issuing a warning about the acts of others that is
meant to intimidate. This, too, seems arbitrary, although it makes
sense as a step in an argument meant to show that "*if*
(or *insofar as*) Western political leaders are intending to
frighten people for their own political advantage, *then* (to
*that extent*) they are committing the same core wrong that is
distinctively associated with terrorism" (Goodin 2006: 2).



It has also been suggested that terrorism need not be understood as
inducing terror or fear. According to Ted Honderich, terrorism is best
defined as "violence, short of war, political, illegal and
*prima facie* wrong" (Honderich 2006: 88). This
definition might be thought problematic on several counts, but the
idea of "terrorism" without "terror" seems
especially odd. The two are connected etymologically and historically,
and this connection is deeply entrenched in current ordinary use.
Intimidation is not *the* morally salient trait of terrorism
(*pace* Goodin), but it is one of its core traits that cause
most of us to condemn the practice. We might consider severing the
connection if Honderich offered a good reason for doing so. But he
supports his highly revisionary definition by the puzzling claim that
to define terrorism as violence meant to intimidate is to imply that
terrorism is particularly abhorrent and thereby "in effect
... invite a kind of *prima facie* approval or tolerance
of war" (Honderich 2006: 93).


## 2. The moral issue



Can terrorism be morally justified? There is no single answer to this
question, as there is no single conception of what terrorism is. If we
put aside definitions that depart too much, and for no compelling
reason, from the core meaning of "terrorism" (such as
those cited in 1.2.3), we still need to decide whether the question
assumes a wide or a narrow understanding of terrorism. A narrow
conception of terrorism seems to be better suited to ethical
investigation (1.2.2). Moreover, philosophers who work with a wide
definition typically hold that terrorism that targets non-combatants
or innocent persons is much more difficult to justify than
"selective" terrorism which attacks only those who cannot
plausibly claim innocence of the injustice or oppression at issue (and
which accordingly does not count as "terrorism" on a
narrow definition of the term). The present discussion therefore
focuses on terrorism understood as violence against innocent civilians
or common citizens, intended to intimidate and thereby to achieve some
further (political) objective or, more broadly, to coerce.



One might try to justify some acts or campaigns of violence of this
kind in two ways. One could argue that the victims may be
non-combatants or common citizens, but nevertheless are not innocent
of the wrongs the terrorists are fighting against. Alternatively, one
could concede the innocence of the victims and argue that attacks on
them are nevertheless justified, either by their consequences on
balance, or by some deontological considerations.


### 2.1 Complicity of the victims



If the former line of argument is successful, will it prove too much?
In showing that an instance of violence was justified because those
targeted were not really innocent, we will have shown that the act or
campaign of violence at issue was actually not a case of terrorism.
This may be merely a matter of semantics. There is a much more
damaging objection. A terrorist act is characteristically the killing
or injuring of a random collection of people who happen to be in a
certain place at a certain time. Arguments to the effect that those
people are not innocent of the wrongs the terrorist fights against
will therefore have a *very* wide reach, and accordingly will
be based on some simplistic conception of collective responsibility.
These arguments will be of the sort offered, for example, by the 19th
century anarchist Emile Henry. He planted a bomb at the office of a
mining company which, if it had exploded, would have killed or injured
a number of people who did not work for the company, but lived in the
same building. He also planted a bomb in a cafe that did go
off, injuring twenty people, one of whom later died of his injuries.
At his trial, Henry explained: "What about the innocent victims?
[...] The building where the Carmeaux Company had its offices was
inhabited only by the bourgeois; hence there would be no innocent
victims. The whole of the bourgeoisie lives by the exploitation of the
unfortunate, and should expiate its crimes together" (Henry
1977: 193). When commenting on the second attack, he said:



> 
> Those good bourgeois who hold no office but who reap their dividends
> and live idly on the profits of the workers' toil, they also
> must take their share in the reprisals. And not only they, but all
> those who are satisfied with the existing order, who applaud the acts
> of the government and so become its accomplices ... in other
> words, the daily clientele of Terminus and other great cafes!
> (Henry 1977: 195)
> 



This is an utterly implausible view of responsibility and liability.
It claims that all members of a social class--men and women,
young and old, adults and children--are liable to be killed or
maimed: some for operating the system of exploitation, others for
supporting it, and still others for benefiting from it. Even if, for
the sake of argument, we grant the anarchist's harsh moral
condemnation of capitalist society, not every type and degree of
involvement with it can justify the use of extreme violence. Giving
the system political support, or benefiting from it, may be morally
objectionable, but is surely not enough to make one liable to be blown
to pieces.



Another, more recent example, is provided by Osama Bin Laden. In an
interview in the aftermath of the attacks on September 11, 2001 he
said:



> 
> The American people should remember that they pay taxes to their
> government and that they voted for their president. Their government
> makes weapons and provides them to Israel, which they use to kill
> Palestinian Muslims. Given that the American Congress is a committee
> that represents the people, the fact that it agrees with the actions
> of the American government proves that America in its entirety is
> responsible for the atrocities that it is committing against Muslims
> (Bin Laden 2005: 140-141).
> 



This, too, is a preposterous understanding of responsibility and
liability. For it claims that all Americans are eligible to be killed
or maimed: some for devising and implementing America's
policies, others for participating in the political process, still
others for paying taxes. Even if, for the sake of argument, we grant
Bin Laden's severe condemnation of those policies, not every
type and degree of involvement with them can justify the use of lethal
violence. Surely voting in elections or paying taxes is not enough to
make one fair game.



Attempts at justification of terrorism that concede that its victims
are innocent seem more promising. They fall into two groups, depending
on the type of ethical theory on which they are based.


### 2.2 Consequentialism



Adherents of consequentialism judge terrorism, like every other
practice, solely by its consequences. Terrorism is not considered
wrong in itself, but only if it has bad consequences on balance. The
innocence of the victims does not change that. This is an instance of
a general trait of consequentialism often highlighted by its critics,
for example in the debate about the moral justification of legal
punishment. A standard objection to the consequentialist approach to
punishment has been that it implies that punishment of the innocent is
justified, when its consequences are good on balance. This objection
can only get off the ground because consequentialism denies that in
such matters a person's innocence is morally significant in
itself.



Those who consider terrorism from a consequentialist point of view
differ in their assessment of its morality. Their judgment on
terrorism depends on their view of the good to be promoted by its use
and on their assessment of the utility of terrorism as a means of
promoting it. There is room for disagreement on both issues.


#### 2.2.1 Terrorism justified



Kai Nielsen approaches questions to do with political violence in
general and terrorism in particular as a consequentialist in ethics
and a socialist in politics. The use of neither can be ruled out
categorically; it all depends on their utility as a method for
attaining morally and politically worthwhile objectives such as
"a truly socialist society" or liberation from colonial
rule. "When and where [either] should be employed is a tactical
question that must be decided ... on a case-by-case basis
... like the choice of weapon in a war" (Nielsen 1981:
435). Nielsen has a wide definition of terrorism, but his examples
show that the innocence of the victims of terrorism makes no
difference to its justification--that is, that his conclusions
apply to terrorism in both the wide and narrow sense. In his view,



> 
> terrorist acts must be justified by their political effects and their
> moral consequences. They are justified (1) when they are politically
> effective weapons in the revolutionary struggle and (2) when,
> everything considered, there are sound reasons for believing that, by
> the use of that type of violence rather than no violence at all or
> violence of some other type, there will be less injustice, suffering
> and degradation in the world than would otherwise have been the case
> (Nielsen 1981: 446).
> 



Historical experience, in Nielsen's view, tells us that
terrorism on a small scale, used as the sole method of struggle in
order to provoke the masses into revolutionary action, is ineffective
and often counterproductive. On the other hand, terrorism employed in
conjunction with guerrilla warfare in a protracted war of liberation
may well prove useful and therefore also justified, as it did in
Algeria and South Vietnam. (For an earlier statement of the same view,
see Trotsky 1961: 48-59, 62-65.)


#### 2.2.2 Terrorism unjustified



Nicholas Fotion also uses a wide definition of terrorism. He, too, is
a consequentialist (although some of his remarks concerning the
innocence of many victims of terrorism might be more at home in
nonconsequentialist ethics). But he finds standard consequentialist
assessments of terrorism such as Nielsen's too permissive. If
some types of terrorism are justifiable under certain circumstances,
such circumstances will be extremely rare. Terrorists and their
apologists do not perform the requisite calculations properly. One
problem is the "higher good" to be promoted by terrorism:
more often than not, it is defined in ideological terms, rather than
derived from settled preferences or interests of actual people. But
for the most part Fotion discusses the issue of means. If a terrorist
act or campaign is to be justified instrumentally, it must be shown
(1) that the end sought is good enough to justify the means, (2) that
the end will indeed be achieved by means of terrorism, and (3) that
the end cannot be achieved in any other way that is morally and
otherwise less costly. Terrorists not only, as a matter of fact, fail
to discharge this burden; Fotion argues that, with regard to terrorism
that victimizes innocent people, it cannot be discharged. All direct
victims of terrorism are treated as objects to be used--indeed,
used up--by the terrorist. But



> 
> in being treated as an object, the innocent victim is worse off than
> the (alleged) guilty victim. Insofar as the latter is judged to have
> done a wrong, he is thought of as a human. [...] For the
> terrorist the innocent victim is neither a human in this judgmental
> sense nor a human in the sense of simply having value *as* a
> human being. Of course the terrorist needs to pick a human being as a
> victim ... because [that] brings about more terror ... But
> this does not involve treating them *as* humans. Rather, they
> are victimized and thereby treated as objects *because* they
> are humans (Fotion 1981: 464).
> 



In reply, terrorists can claim that they advisedly sacrifice valued
human beings for a higher good. But for this claim to carry any
conviction, they would have to show that they have no alternative.
Yet, Fotion argues, they *always* have the alternative of
taking on the opponent's military establishment, and often also
have the option of going after government officials responsible for
the wrongs they object to, instead of attacking innocent persons. That
kind of terrorism may sometimes be justified, whereas terrorism that
targets innocent people never is.


### 2.3 Nonconsequentialism



Within a nonconsequentialist approach to morality, terrorism is
considered wrong in itself, because of what it is, rather than only
because (and insofar as) its consequences are bad on balance. But this
is not to say that this approach leaves no room whatever for morally
justifying certain acts or campaigns of terrorism. Indeed,
nonconsequentialist discussions of terrorism also present a range of
positions and arguments.



A nonconsequentialist might try to justify an act or campaign of
terrorism in one of two ways. One might invoke some deontological
considerations, such as justice or rights, in favor of resorting to
terrorism under certain circumstances. Alternatively, one might argue
that the obvious, and obviously very weighty, considerations of rights
(of the victims of terrorism) and justice (which demands respect for
those rights) may sometimes be overridden by extremely weighty
considerations of consequences--an extremely high price that
would be paid for *not* resorting to terrorism. For the
rejection of consequentialism is of course not tantamount to denying
that consequences of our actions, policies, and practices matter in
their moral assessment; what is denied is the consequentialists'
claim that *only* consequences matter.


#### 2.3.1 Basic human rights and distributive justice



Virginia Held operates with a broad notion of terrorism, but her
justification of terrorism is meant to apply to terrorism that targets
common citizens. Her discussion of the subject focuses on the issue of
rights. When rights of a person or group are not respected, what may
we do in order to ensure that they are? On one view, known as
consequentialism of rights, if the only way to ensure respect of a
certain right of *A* and *B* is to infringe the same
right of *C*, we shall be justified in doing so. Held does not
hold that such trade-offs in rights with the aim of maximizing their
respect in a society are appropriate. Yet rights sometimes come into
conflict, whether directly or indirectly (as in the above example).
When that happens, there is no way we can avoid comparing the rights
involved as more or less stringent and making certain choices between
them. That applies to the case of terrorism too. Terrorism obviously
violates some human rights of its victims. But its advocates claim
that in some circumstances a limited use of terrorism is the only way
of bringing about a society where human rights of all will be
respected.



Even when this claim is true, that is not enough to make resort to
terrorism justified. But it will be justified if an additional
condition is met: that of distributive justice. If there is a society
where the human rights of a part of the population are respected,
while the same rights of another part of the population are being
violated; if the only way of changing that and ensuring that human
rights of all are respected is a limited use of terrorism; finally, if
terrorism is directed against members of the first group, which up to
now has been privileged as far as respect of human rights is
concerned--then terrorism will be morally justified. This is a
justification in terms of distributive justice, applied to the problem
of violations of human rights. It is more just to equalize the
violations of human rights in a stage of transition to a society where
the rights of all are respected, than to allow that the group which
has already suffered large-scale violations of human rights suffer
even more such violations (assuming that in both cases we are dealing
with violations of the same, or equally stringent, human rights). The
human rights of many are going to be violated in any case; it is more
just, and therefore morally preferable, that their violations should
be distributed in a more equitable way (Held 2008).



It might be objected that in calling for sacrificing such basic human
rights as the right to life and to bodily security of
*individual* victims of terrorism for the sake of a more just
distribution of violations of the same rights within a *group*
in the course of transition to a stage where these rights will be
respected throughout that group, Held offends against the principles
of separateness of persons and respect for persons (Primoratz 1997:
230-31). In response, Held argues that



> 
> to fail to achieve a more just distribution of violations of rights
> (through the use of terrorism if that is the only means available) is
> to fail to recognize that those whose rights are already not fairly
> respected are individuals in their own right, not merely members of a
> group ... whose rights can be ignored.
> 



An argument for achieving a just distribution of rights violations is
not necessarily about groups; it can be an argument about the rights
of individuals to fairness (Held 2008: 89-90). (For further
objections to Held's argument, see Steinhoff 2007: 125-30; Brooks 2010;
Nath 2011.)


#### 2.3.2 Supreme emergency and moral disaster



In Held's justification of terrorism, it is justice that
requires that inescapable violations of human rights be more evenly
distributed. There is a different way of allowing for the use of
terrorism under certain circumstances within a nonconsequentialist
approach to the ethics of violence. It could be argued that, as far as
justice and rights are concerned, terrorism (or, in Held's
terminology, the kind of terrorism that targets the innocent) is never
justified. Furthermore, considerations of justice and rights carry
much greater weight than considerations of good and bad consequences,
and therefore normally trump the latter in cases of conflict. However,
in exceptional circumstances considerations concerning
consequences--the price of *not* resorting to
terrorism--may be so extremely weighty as to override those of
justice and rights.



Michael Walzer offers an argument along these lines in his discussion
of "terror bombing" of German cities in World War II. In
early 1942, it seemed that Britain would be defeated by Germany and
that its military could not prevail while fighting in accordance with
the rules of war. Britain was the only remaining obstacle to the
subjugation of most of Europe by the Nazis. That was "an
ultimate threat to everything decent in our lives, an ideology and a
practice of domination so murderous, so degrading even to those who
might survive, that the consequences of its final victory were
literally beyond calculation, immeasurably awful" (Walzer 2000:
253). Thus Britain was facing a "supreme emergency": an
(a) imminent threat of (b) something utterly unthinkable from a moral
point of view. In such an emergency--a case of the "dirty
hands" predicament that so often plagues political action (see
Walzer 1973)--one may breach a basic and weighty moral principle
such as civilian immunity, if that is the only hope of fending off the
threat. So for more than three years, the RAF, later joined by the
USAAF, deliberately devastated many German cities, killed about
600,000 civilians and seriously injured another 800,000 in an attempt
to terrorize the German people into forcing their leadership to halt
the war and surrender unconditionally. By early 1943 it was clear that
Germany was not going to win the war, and all subsequent terror
bombing lacked moral justification. But in its first year, in
Walzer's view, the terror bombing of Germany was morally
justified as a response to the supreme emergency Britain was facing.
Walzer then expands the notion of supreme emergency to apply to a
single political community facing the threat of extermination or
enslavement, and eventually to a single political community whose
"survival and freedom" are at stake. For "the
survival and freedom of political communities--whose members
share a way of life, developed by their ancestors, to be passed on to
their children--are the highest values of international
society" (Walzer 2000: 254).



Here we have two different conceptions of supreme emergency. The
threat is imminent in both, but the nature of the threat differs: it
is one thing to suffer the fate the Nazis had in store for peoples
they considered racially inferior, and another to have one's
polity dismantled. By moving back and forth between these two types of
supreme emergency under the ambiguous heading of threat to "the
survival and freedom of a political community", Walzer seeks to
extend to the latter the moral response that might be appropriate to
the former. Yet whereas genocide, expulsion, or enslavement of an
entire people might be thought a *moral* disaster that may be
fended off by any means, its loss of political independence is, at
most, a *political* disaster. If a polity to be dismantled
lacks moral legitimacy, its demise may well be a moral improvement.
But even if a polity does have moral legitimacy, a threat to its
"survival and freedom" falls short of "an ultimate
threat to everything decent in our lives". If so, its military
cannot be justified in waging war on enemy civilians in order to
defend it. (On supreme emergencies see, for instance,
Statman 2006; Kaplan 2011.)



There is another, less permissive position constructed along similar
lines, but based on a more austere view of what counts as a moral
disaster that might justify resort to terrorism. Contrary to what many
fighters against social or economic oppression, colonial rule, or
foreign occupation believe, evils of such magnitude that they can
justify indiscriminate killing and maiming of innocent people are
extremely rare. Not every case of oppression, foreign rule, or
occupation, however morally indefensible, amounts to a moral disaster
in the relevant sense. Nor does every imminent threat to "the
survival and freedom of a political community" qualify, contrary
to what Walzer has argued. However, if an entire people is subjected
to extermination, or to an attempt at "ethnically
cleansing" it from its land, then it is facing a true moral
disaster and may properly consider terrorism as a method of struggle
against such a fate. In view of their enormity *and* finality,
extermination and "ethnic cleansing" of an entire people
constitute a category apart. To be sure, resorting to terrorism in
such a case will be morally justified only if there are very good
grounds for believing that terrorism will succeed where nothing else
will: in preventing imminent extermination or "ethnic
cleansing", or stopping it if it is already under way. Cases
where both conditions are met will be extremely rare. Indeed, history
may not offer a single example. But that does not mean that no
act or campaign of terrorism could ever satisfy these conditions and
thus turn out to be justified. Accordingly, terrorism is
*almost* absolutely wrong (Primoratz 2013: chapter 6).



Both the "supreme emergency" and the "moral
disaster" view will justify a resort to terrorism only when that
is the only way to deal with the emergency, or to prevent the
disaster, respectively. Just how certain must we be that terrorism
will indeed achieve the goal, while no other method will? One might
argue that when *in extremis*, we cannot apply stringent
epistemic standards in deciding how to cope--indeed, if we cannot
really know what will work, we must take our chances with what might.
This is Walzer's view: in such a predicament, we must
"wager" the crime of terrorism against the evil that is
otherwise in store for us. "There is no option; the risk
otherwise is too great" (Walzer 2000: 259-260). It may be
objected that this position highlights the enormity of the threat,
while failing to give due weight to the enormity of the means proposed
for fending off the threat--the enormity of terrorism, of
deliberately killing and maiming innocent people. When that is taken
into account, the conclusion may rather be that even *in
extremis*, if terrorism is to be justified, the reasons for
believing that it will work and that nothing else will must be very
strong indeed.


#### 2.3.3 Terrorism absolutely wrong



Some hold that terrorism is absolutely wrong. This position, too,
comes in different versions. Some philosophers work with a wide
definition of terrorism, and argue that under certain circumstances
"selective" terrorism that targets only those seriously
implicated in the wrongs at issue may be justified (Corlett 2003,
Young 2004). This seems to suggest that terrorism which is not
selective in this way--that is, terrorism in the narrow
sense--is never justified. Yet this does not follow: there is
still room for arguing that terrorism of the latter type can be
justified by further considerations, such as those of "supreme
emergency" or "moral disaster".



Per Bauhn does not leave it at that. He attempts to show that
terrorism that targets non-combatants or common citizens can never be
justified by deploying a slightly amended version of Alan
Gewirth's ethical theory. Freedom and safety are fundamental
prerequisites of action and therefore must be accorded paramount
weight. The need to protect them generates a range of rights; the
right pertinent here is "an absolute right not to be made the
intended victims of a homicidal project" all innocent persons
have (Gewirth 1981: 16). When the absolute status of this right is
challenged by invoking supreme emergency or moral disaster, Bauhn
argues that there is a moral difference between what we are positively
and directly causally responsible for, and what we are causally
responsible for only indirectly, by failing to prevent other persons
from intentionally bringing it about. We are morally responsible for
the former, but (except in certain special circumstances) not for the
latter. If we refuse to resort to terrorism in order not to target
innocent persons, and thus fail to prevent some other persons from
perpetrating atrocities, it is only the perpetrators who will be
morally responsible for those atrocities. Therefore we must refuse
(Bauhn 1989: chapter 5).



Some philosophers base their absolute rejection of terrorism on the
slippery slope argument, and argue that "the appeal to supreme
emergency is too dangerous to be allowed as a publicly available
vindication for terrorism, no matter how rare the circumstances are
meant to be" (Coady 2021: 143-44).



Stephen Nathanson seeks to ground the absolute immunity of civilians
or common citizens and the absolute prohibition of terrorism which it
entails in a rule-consequentialist ethical theory (Nathanson 2010:
191-208). Adopting civilian immunity, rather than adopting any
other rule regulating the matter or having no rule at all, is the best
way to reduce the killing and destruction in armed conflict. Moreover,
the best consequences will be achieved by adopting it as an absolute
rule, rather than as a rule allowing for exceptions in supreme
emergencies. The idea of supreme emergency is vague. The criteria for
proffering supreme emergency exemptions are liable to be applied in
arbitrary and subjective ways. Finally, there is the slippery slope
argument: "permitting [departures from the rule of civilian
immunity, including terrorism] even under the direst circumstances
will lower the bar for justifying such acts ... broadcast the
message that such behavior may sometimes be justified and ...
thus lend its weight to increasing the use of such methods"
(Nathanson 2010: 207).



However, one can adopt rule-consequentialism as one's ethical
theory and yet view the immunity of civilians or common citizens and
the attendant prohibition of terrorism as very stringent, but not
absolute moral rules. Thus Richard B. Brandt and Brad Hooker do not
view this immunity as absolute. They argue that a set of moral rules
selected because of the good consequences of their adoption should
include a rule that allows and indeed requires one to prevent disaster
even if that means breaking some other moral rule. Even such a
stringent moral rule as the prohibition of deliberate use of violence
against innocent people may be overridden, if the disaster that cannot
be prevented in any other way is grave enough. (See Brandt 1992:
87-88, 150-51, 156-57; Hooker 2000: 98-99,
127-36). There is thus some convergence at the level of
practical conclusions between their understanding of the immunity of
civilians or common citizens and the "moral disaster"
position outlined above (2.3.2).