Appealing the thunderstorm

Last month, it was my privilege to visit South Carolina for the first time. I flew into Savannah and drove north to a gathering of U.S. Army chaplains at Hilton Head Island before visiting with some friends in Charleston. I soon realized that I had unintentionally mirrored Gen. Sherman's 1865 march north from Savannah before he turned northwest and razed South Carolina's capital, Columbia.

Remembering that South Carolina was the first Southern state to secede from the U.S., and that the armed conflict had begun when Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, Sherman wrote at the time: "The truth is, the whole army is burning with an insatiable desire to wreak vengeance upon South Carolina. I almost tremble at her fate, but feel that she deserves all that seems to be in store for her."

One of his soldiers confirmed this feeling, writing: "In our march through South Carolina, every man seemed to think that he had a free hand to burn any kind of property he could put the torch to ... for if South Carolina had not been so persistent in going to war, there would have been no war for years to come."

The war was essentially a contest to decide whether the Bible validated the constitutional Christianity of the Southern states and their slavery, or the maturing pluralism of a union that sought to preserve freedom of conscience for all people.

For O.S. Barten, preaching a widely circulated sermon on the Confederacy's first "fast day" (June 13, 1861) at St. James in Warrenton, Va., the choice was clear. The godless North would be defeated by the Christian South because "God's purposes are bound up with us as a nation!"

Abraham Lincoln had a different view, famously saying that he did not want God on his side, but sought to be on the side of God. During his second inaugural, for example, Lincoln recognized that both North and South "read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other."

Nevertheless, Lincoln's re-election was made possible, in part, by Sherman's victory in Atlanta, destroying everything military and civilian in his path. Lincoln also proclaimed a national day of Thanksgiving shortly after his 1864 re-election, while blessing the continuation of Sherman's total war against Savannah and South Carolina.

All of which suggest some reflections regarding the war in Afghanistan. America has every reason, and perhaps right, to wage total war against the people of Afghanistan who have joined or give support to the Taliban and al-Qaida.

After all, not only did they attack the U.S., their understanding of Islam enslaves both conscience and women (an understanding not shared by the overwhelming majority of Muslims worldwide). And it can certainly be argued that demonstrating the capacity to operate deep within enemy territory, far from home, while crushing everything military and civilian in our way might end the war more quickly while deterring future wars (as did Sherman's campaign).

Every historical analogy fails at some point, however, with three differences between our own and the Afghan civil war.

First, the enemy has sanctuary across the border in Pakistan. During my January trip to Pakistan, every Pakistani I met was concerned that America was going to leave the region (due to President Barack Obama's December West Point speech promising a withdrawal date). Since then, American officials have worked hard to assure the Pakistani government and people that we are in this fight for the long haul. It has yielded results as Islamabad is now working, for the first time, with the U.S. to capture Taliban and al-Qaida leaders in Pakistan.

Second, U.S. forces are fighting in Afghanistan's civil war, perceived as Christian outsiders to a Muslim-on-Muslim conflict (fighting on the more tolerant side). It is all the more imperative, therefore, to engage with nuance, demonstrating to locals that we have common values, rooted in our respective faith traditions, and that we will stay and protect their civilians once we clear out the Taliban, as we just did in Marjah. (Previously, American efforts have cleared out the Taliban and then moved on, leaving towns and villages to be reoccupied by the Taliban as they punished those who worked with the U.S.)

Third, amid this tremendous complexity, America is not waging total war as Sherman did, despite possessing every reason and means to do so. Instead our troops are working with the people, making them the priority, even to the detriment of their own capacity to wage war. For example, The Washington Post reported recently that civilian areas must be observed for at least three days in order to establish whether or not there is a "pattern of life" before an airstrike is authorized. While we are putting more Americans at risk in the near-term, we are saving more American and Afghan lives in the long-term as a result of this boldly careful approach.

As we consider our "surge" into Afghanistan, three lessons stand out concerning the nature of war in a very religious region. Foremost is the need for humility in considering ourselves and those we fight.

It was not so long ago that our own people had a violent disagreement regarding theological conviction.

One believed that Scripture confirmed slavery, the other did not. We must be careful not to "mirror image" and expect Afghans to think and act as we do. Their state and society are evolving, just as ours are.

Next, victory in Afghanistan is only sustainable if our efforts enable a respectful form of Islam that allows for theological and politically difference. This one is more tricky, but our own experience confirms that when people are free to disagree agreeably, society is more stable and prosperous.

Finally, and most remarkable, our men and women in uniform are changing the character of war. After the total subjugation of Atlanta, Sherman reflected that "war is cruelty, and you cannot refine it. You might as well appeal against the thunderstorm as against these terrible hardships of war."

Our men and women are doing the impossible -- appealing the thunderstorm -- as they achieve battlefield success because they embody the very values that will empower a sustainable peace.

Chris Seiple is president of the Institute for Global Engagement, a Washington, D.C.-based Christian, nonpartisan nongovernmental organization that studies the impact of faith on state and society and promotes religious freedom worldwide.