It is the radically different interpretive strategies prescribed by the friend/foe distinction that explains how it is that we can draw such sharp lines in the face of a relatively smooth continuum of possible positions. Consider: on any political or theological question, there are generally a vast range of possible positions that could coherently be taken, which might be mapped on a relatively smooth spectrum from “most liberal” to “most conservative.” But most of us eschew the complexity of this mapping, with all the ifs, ands, and buts that it requires, and gravitate toward the simpler heuristic of the friend/foe distinction to divide up the possible positions into two main camps.

The Friend/Enemy Distinction

What does it mean for someone to be an enemy (not merely a personalenemy, but the enemy of my community in a just cause, or the enemy of the truth itself)? It means someone whom I am bound to oppose and resist; someone whose every weakness I must seek to discover, whose every misstep I must be alert for and ready to exploit; someone for whom I cannot afford to entertain fond feelings or show mercy, at least as long as they are an active threat. It is someone whom I must assume is similarly seeking to exploit my weaknesses and those of my friends; someone whose intentions I must always suspect; whose action I cannot afford to give the benefit of the doubt, but must rather, as a precautionary principle, always interpret in a negative light, as an act of aggression; someone toward whom it is actually a virtue to appear paranoid. The appropriateness of these reactions increases in proportion to the level of threat; there may be a place for rules of chivalry and gentlemanly warfare, but when I am under existential threat, facing an enemy who will stop at nothing, I cannot afford to be naïve and trusting.

What does it mean for someone to be my friend? It means someone whom I am determined to support and encourage; someone whose weaknesses I must seek to shore up and compensate for; someone whose missteps I cover for, ready to spring to their aid; someone for whom I actively cultivate an affection and whom I am quick to forgive. It is someone of whom I try to always think the best, assuming their good intentions and applying a hermeneutic of charity when they speak or act questionably; someone for whom it is a virtue to be trusting to the point of appearing naïve.

These radically different strategies of engagement and rules of interpretation are deeply wired into us; even while they may not be necessary for physical survival in a relatively peaceful and civilized age, they are still necessary for social, intellectual, and spiritual survival in a world filled with evil and workers of iniquity. The friend/enemy distinction is a kind of mental mapping, a shorthand by which we make sense of the chaos around us, determining whom we can trust and how best to deploy our limited powers of empathy and of resistance. In the intellectual realm, it enables us to simplify the vast spectrum of ideas and positions that confront us, which are beyond the power of even the brightest amongst us to dispassionately evaluate one-by-one. Without fully knowing where each individual stands on a wide range of issues, and without being able to determine where exactly the truth lies on each of those issues, we fall back on the question, “Is this person a friend or a foe?”—a question often partly answered on pre-rational grounds—to decide our posture toward them.

It is the radically different interpretive strategies prescribed by the friend/foe distinction that explains how it is that we can draw such sharp lines in the face of a relatively smooth continuum of possible positions. Consider: on any political or theological question, there are generally a vast range of possible positions that could coherently be taken, which might be mapped on a relatively smooth spectrum from “most liberal” to “most conservative.” But most of us eschew the complexity of this mapping, with all the ifs, ands, and buts that it requires, and gravitate toward the simpler heuristic of the friend/foe distinction to divide up the possible positions into two main camps. Having done so, and having adopted opposing strategies toward those on either side of the dividing line, we find that there is now a yawning chasm where once there was a fairly smooth continuum. Those on the “foe” side of the chasm, although on paper their positions may differ only slightly from those a bit closer to us, are perceived to differ categorically and perhaps irredeemably. Toward the one group we apply a hermeneutic of charity, assuming they must mean well even when they argue poorly; toward the other a hermeneutic of suspicion, discerning that some evil scheme lies cloaked under their fair words.

Now you might assume at this point that I would play the part of the moralistic Christian ethicist and implore us to lay aside these Manichaean modes of thought, be like Jesus, and all sit down around a table to engage in meaningful “dialogue.” But I am not going to do that. On the contrary, the friend/enemy distinction is unavoidable. There is real evil and error in the world that must be vigorously opposed, and although this stark dichotomy sometimes grossly oversimplifies the landscape that we must navigate, we cannot do entirely without it. (Indeed, the moralistic prophets of inclusive “dialogue” cannot do without it either, reacting viscerally when confronted with the stubborn holdouts against the tolerance gospel.) Life is too short and our capacities are too limited, as I have said, to evaluate every person and position abstractly on their own merits, and so all of us must to at least some extent rely on these rough-and-ready generalizations of whom to be particularly on our guard against. To be sure, as I have written before, we should try and learn to represent even our enemies as fairly and accurately as possible, since our ultimate goal is to win them over, not to annihilate them—vengeance belongs to the Lord. But in the heat of combat, to extend the right hand of fellowship is to risk having it cut off.

Nor am I even going to tell you that while real wars (just wars, at any rate) are fine, and so is spiritual warfare, we must avoid “the culture war” at all costs. For, as I have already made quite clear, there are real wars in the realm of ideas (and for control of idea-shaping institutions), in which truth—a prize far more precious than any that armies have ever contended for—is at stake. And in these wars as well the blunt instrument of the friend/enemy distinction is indispensable.

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