The term ‘hybrid warfare’ is on the lips of many defence specialists worldwide, thus also in Europe. As one can read on its website, the European Community of Interest on Strategy and Defence (part of the European Centre of Excellence for Countering Hybrid Threats) ‘aims at uncovering the essence and nature of hybrid warfare, as well as the logic and pattern of hybrid strategies in order to develop a solid analytical framework as a basis for the assessment of current and future hybrid warfare situations and their practical implications’ (https://www.hybridcoe.fi/coi-strategy-and-defence/).

However, what remains largely unexposed in this endeavour is the connection between violence, power and law and the crucial role of the psychological and ethical dimension in both hybrid conflicts and in the countering thereof. This chapter addresses all these aspects in their interconnectedness, starting with Freud’s basic psychoanalytical insights on war (section “Violence, Power and Law and the Role of Emotional Bonds”), which reveal the connection between violence, power and law and the role emotions play on a political level. This broadened view on war is followed by a discussion of the term ‘hybrid warfare’ in section “Hybrid Warfare”. To better understand this form of warfare and its implications, the term will be contrasted with Kaldor’s notion of new wars, hybrid peace and human security. Kaldor’s ethicopolitical approach helps us to see the importance of a broader focus. It therefore helps us to see the way in which, in hybrid warfare, values and the emotions connected to these values are played upon, influenced, questioned and moulded; in short, used and misused. This way of using and misusing values and norms is what I have called ‘moresfare’ (see Verweij, 2019a). As explained in section “Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law”, the term ‘moresfare’ is derived from the more familiar term ‘lawfare’ (Dunlap, 2009) as a form of hybrid warfare, and can thus be understood as ‘the use or misuse of values and norms as a weapon of war or as a way to achieve a political objective’ (see also section “Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law”). Moresfare points to the manipulation of values and norms and the emotions associated with them. In this article, the concept of moresfare illustrates the interaction between ethics and law in the context of hybrid warfare and therefore contributes to a sound understanding of hybrid conflicts and of ways to counter them. As this chapter will show, this starts with insight into a systemic ethical approach, and thus with a keen eye for the values at stake in the system as a whole. This means that the values and connected interests of all stakeholders are taken into account, as well as the long-term effects of actions taken. If this systemic ethical approach is absent, countering hybrid warfare and, in line with that, strengthening the resilience of a community are doomed to fail. This danger of moral myopia present in lawfare and the detrimental consequences thereof are discussed in section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare”. If this moral myopia, which implies a blind spot for the system as a whole, can also be detected in the use of the concept of resilience, problems will accumulate, since both the EU and NATO call for resilience as a way to counter hybrid warfare (section “Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?”).

Violence, Power and Law and the Role of Emotional Bonds

The raison d’être of the armed forces is directly related to the Weberian notion of the state’s legitimate monopoly on violence. This legitimate use of force is entrusted by the state to the armed forces with regard to ‘enemies’ from outside and to the police with regard to ‘enemies’ from within the state. The entrusted use of legitimate force underlines the connectedness of power, violence and law, as Freud already pointed out in his discussion with Einstein in 1933 in Warum Krieg? This booklet, or rather the exchange of letters, consists of Freud’s answer to Einstein’s question whether there is ‘any way of delivering mankind from the menace of war’ (Einstein & Freud, 2018, p. 31). Freud starts by explaining how violence paved (and paves) the way for power and law. The power of the strongest is supported by ‘brutal or intelligent use of force’ (op. cit., p. 33) and by working together and closing ranks; the power of the strongest alliance determines the law. Law is thus rooted in the power of a community and the violence on which this power is originally founded will turn against any individual or group that opposes this power and its law (op. cit., p. 34). Freud emphasizes that it is a fallacy not to consider the fact that law was originally based on violence and cannot do without the support of coercion and, if necessary, violence (op. cit., p. 40). In the context of this chapter, it is important to note that there is a crucial condition attached to the transition from violence to law. Freud calls this a ‘psychological condition’ (op. cit., p. 34). In order for a community to exist in a sustainable way, emotional bonds (such as feelings of solidarity) are needed; these emotional bonds hold a community together (op. cit., p. 35). However, these feelings of connectedness do not come naturally. Every community contains unequal power relations, and these form the basis of tensions that may be resolved by adjusting the law, or, as a last resort, by the use of force by those who hold power (op. cit., p. 36). Thus, according to Freud, a community is held together by two factors: the emotional bonds of its members and coercion through violence (op. cit., p. 39). Emotional bonds in the sense of solidarity and connectedness therefore have a political dimension. In continuation of his discussion of the relation between violence, power and law, in Warum Krieg Freud addresses the emotions related to two basic human instincts that are typified as Eros (referring to the drive or instinct of life, love and, in a broader sense, the ability to connect to and identify with other people) and Thanatos (referring to the opposite drive or instinct of death, destruction and aggression). Both fundamental instincts or drives coexist in each person, alternating between conflict and harmony in their struggle against each other, a struggle that takes place in and between people. In Warum Krieg, Freud discusses the way war appeals to these fundamental instincts, resulting in hate and aggression. As Freud indicates, these destructive tendencies cannot be abolished, but they can be ‘bent’ (op. cit., p. 44) in such a way that they do not end in war. The best way to do this is to call on Eros for help, since Eros is the counterpart of Thanatos and thus of hate and aggression (op. cit., p. 44). Eros creates the constructive emotional bonds—Freud mentions solidarity and identification (op. cit. p., 45)—between people that forestall destructive conflicts.

What Freud and, in his wake, many other psychoanalysts (and authors) make clear is the important role emotions play, not just with regard to individual issues but also in political contexts. Inspired by Freud, Alford (1998), for instance, analyses the role ‘hate’ can play in the political arena in terms of its ability to create communities. In this context, Moisi’s book on the geopolitics of emotion (Moisi, 2010) can also be mentioned. No matter how convincing the rationalization of political motives may seem, emotions and the values associated with them lie at the basis of every war, including hybrid wars, as many current conflicts are referred to.

Hybrid Warfare

As many authors have indicated, hybrid warfare is not new. However, the fact that the novelty of a concept is contested is not new either. As soon as a new concept is introduced, authors rush to come up with examples from the past that undermine the alleged novelty. This is also the case with the concept of hybrid warfare. On the basis of the often-cited definition by Hoffman (2007), many authors have pointed out hybridity in warfare in ancient Rome, in the Napoleonic era and in the Vietnam War (McCulloh & Johnson, 2013). Even the Trojan Horse is seen as one of the first examples of hybrid warfare (Stoltenberg, 2015). My aim is neither to question nor to underline the novelty of the concept. I do, however, want to point out important similarities between the concept of hybrid warfare and the concept of ‘new wars’ as introduced by Kaldor (2007).

There are hardly any references to Kaldor in the literature on hybrid warfare, yet her definition of ‘new wars’ largely corresponds to the often-cited definition of hybrid war used by Hoffman. He describes hybrid wars as a range of different modes of warfare, including conventional capabilities, irregular tactics and formations, terrorist acts, including indiscriminate violence and coercion, and criminal disorder (Hoffman, 2007, p. 14). Building on Hoffman’s definition, many authors use similar descriptions. These definitions are in accordance with crucial aspects of Kaldor’s definition of new wars as a mix of traditional warfare, large-scale violations of human rights and organized crime (Kaldor, 2007, p. 12). The pre-conflict phases and the post-conflict phases of new wars are very similar, and new wars have the tendency to spread through criminal networks, refugee flows and ideologies (Kaldor, 2007, p. 71). Kaldor calls for a different approach to successfully counter these new wars; an approach in which human rights supersede the rights of states and state power holders in the sense that the focus should be on the security of individuals and communities and not primarily on the security and the interests of the state and its power holders. This so-called human security approach, in which a connection is made between security and development, is closely related to the UN ‘responsibility to protect’ principle, according to which the security of people comes first and the principle of state sovereignty has to give way to the protection of people who are suffering inhumanely and are in need of basic security.

It seems that Kaldor’s ideas on ‘new wars’ and her reports on ‘human security’ (respectively the ‘Barcelona Report’, 2004, and the ‘Berlin Report’, 2016) can make an important contribution to discussions regarding the phenomenon of hybridity in present-day conflicts and wars. This holds particularly for the last report of the Human Security Study Group entitled From Hybrid Peace to Human Security: Rethinking EU Strategy towards Conflict, which proposes a ‘second generation human security approach’ for the twenty-first century. What these reports make clear is that there are crucial differences between Hoffman (and authors of a kindred spirit) and Kaldor in their evaluation of present-day wars and conflicts. Kaldor’s broader focus on ‘human security’ aims to counter the underlying causes of insecurity and human needs in detrimental living conditions; conditions that lead to structural poverty, insecurity and conflict. This is a completely different approach than the one Hoffman takes. Without taking the roots of conflicts into account, he primarily perceives present-day threats as designed to target Western societies and specifically ‘US vulnerabilities’ (Hoffman, 2007, p. 14). The answer both authors formulate with regard to hybrid or new wars also differs. Kaldor argues for a human security force, a mix of military personnel and civilian experts that is capable of addressing problems in a bottom-up approach. She thus starts with the needs voiced by the people living in the detrimental and sometimes destructive living conditions that lead to insecurity and conflict. Contrary to this, Hoffman argues for hybrid warriors ‘capable of […] winning on any type of battle space […]’ (Hoffman, 2007, p. 50). Yet, as Kaldor (2008) maintains in her critique on specific just war principles, the focus should not only be on winning the war or defeating enemies. It should also be on creating ‘just peace’, which implies protection and stabilization and a situation in which legitimacy is related to a growing body of human rights rather than to the rights of states (Kaldor, 2008). The focus is thus not on the other as an enemy or adversary, as Hoffman maintains, but on the people suffering from conflict and therefore on the other as a person in need of peace and security (or to use Roosevelts words, in need of freedom from fear and freedom from want). This difference in their assessment of present-day conflicts is caused by the fact that Kaldor includes a systemic ethical dimension in her analysis and thus addresses the values that are at stake in the (global sociopolitical) system as a whole, whereas Hoffman primarily focuses on the US (and Western societies) as a victim of aggression.

It is important to note that present-day hybrid wars or new wars lean heavily on globalization processes and technological developments. In fact, these processes and developments have made hybrid wars possible. In that sense, the concept of hybrid war cannot be taken out of the broader context in which the phenomenon occurs. Indeed, in order to actually understand this phenomenon and its consequences, insight into its context is crucial, and this context is coloured by geopolitical, social, cultural and moral aspects. The moral aspects in particular are often overlooked, which raise some questions, since values and the emotions related to these values are regularly misused and manipulated in hybrid warfare.

Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law

The Latin ‘mores’ refers to the traditional customs and ways of behaving that are typical of a community (or part of a community). It thus refers to the underlying norms and values on which customs and behaviour are based. The concept ‘moresfare’ that I introduced in a paper in 2019 (Verweij, 2019a, b) is closely related to the concept ‘lawfare’ as discussed by several authors but introduced by Dunlap in 2001. He described lawfare as the ‘use of law as a means to realizing a military objective’ and thus as a weapon of war (Dunlap, 2001, p. 4). In an article written eight years later, Dunlap uses a broader definition: ‘the strategy of using or misusing law as a substitute for traditional military means to achieve an operational objective’ (2009, p. 35). In a similar way, I describe moresfare as ‘the use or misuse of values and norms as a weapon of war or as a way to achieve a political objective’ (Verweij, 2019a, b, p. 1).

One might argue that the introduction of the term moresfare has little added value, since the term lawfare already covers the most important aspects of the phenomenon in question. However, that is not the case. Notably, statements like these are based on the persistent premise that law, as a tangible body of rules, makes ethics superfluous. Apart from this being a rather dangerous presupposition, it is also not adequate. As I have pointed out elsewhere (Verweij, 2007), ethics is the alpha and omega of law, which means that ethics as a critical reflection on morality (values and norms) precedes law in the sense that the moral deliberation of the members of a community leads to consensus about norms (rules) with regard to behaviour (that is, ethics as the alpha of law). Law and more specifically rules of law are thus crystalized morality. However, rules as crystalized morality require critical reflection (thus ethics) precisely because of their crystalized and therefore petrified and immobile character in an ever-changing context (this is ethics as the omega of law). Critical reflection is needed because in a world characterized by multiplicity and change, the petrification of norms will eventually lead to unacceptable and unwarranted behaviour. The abolition of legislation on discrimination and segregation in South Africa when Apartheid ended in 1990 or the abolition of Jim Crow laws in the south of the US in 1965 is a case in point. A similar case in point, leading however to the opposite effect, were the Nuremberg laws of 1935 in Nazi Germany that legalized the discrimination of Jews. According to Arendt, this phenomenon could occur because ‘everybody was sound asleep’ when fundamental human values were replaced by their opposites (Arendt, 2012, p. 227). What these concrete examples of legislation on discrimination demonstrate, apart from their completely opposite intentions and moral implications (or lack of attention for these intentions and implications, as Arendt rightly points out), is that legislation changes because morality changes. And morality changes because of the moral deliberation on the values and norms that the moral agents of a specific community hold and that make a community an actual community. There is no community without the shared values and norms that hold this community together in a performative design of these values and norms. In other words, the values and norms that emerge in behaviour and language constitute the community and form the basis of its legislation. Thus, law is inherently connected to ethics; there is no law without ethics (without a moral basis, however small that may be). There are, however, ethics without law in the sense of morality, or moral deliberation, that has not yet turned into law or will not turn into law. It is precisely this moral deliberation between moral agents that can influence, change, strengthen and weaken legislation and can in fact create it or even kill it, as Arendt’s example of the replacement of values by the Nazi regime shows.

The added value of the term moresfare is therefore that it specifically addresses this dynamic interaction between ethics and law in the context of hybrid warfare and thereby helps us to better understand hybrid warfare and its consequences. Given the fact that some people believe that law is a tangible body of rules that makes ethics superfluous, it may not come as a surprise that this dynamic between ethics and law is often overlooked. This is also the case in discussions on hybrid warfare, and especially in discussions on lawfare as a form of hybrid warfare. As relevant as these discussions may be, they lead to a one-sided and therefore too limited view and interpretation of both lawfare and hybrid warfare. In order to explain my point, I will focus on three texts on lawfare, two written by the author who introduced the concept (Dunlap) and the third written by two authors (Bachmann & Munoz Mosquera, 2018), who discuss the way hybrid warfare challenges the international legal order and who introduce the concepts of a ‘Zeusian’ and ‘Hadesian’ form of lawfare.

The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare

It is interesting to note that both Hoffman’s definition and description of hybrid warfare and Dunlap’s definition and description of lawfare can be characterized as a form of ‘enemy thinking’, which is an effective form of moresfare when the term ‘enemy’ is used to create and stimulate fear and insecurity. As explained in section “Hybrid Warfare”, moresfare implies that values and emotions connected to these values are used, misused, influenced and manipulated. In this case, ‘enmity’ and the subsequent actions of the constructed ‘enemy’ as the extreme other imply a threat to the values held by the community (freedom, security, wellbeing etc.), which leads to emotions such as anxiety, fear and anger, as well as to a willingness to resist and fight back in the community ‘under attack’.

The texts of Hoffman and Dunlap consistently refer to ‘them’ (the enemy with capital letters) against ‘us’ (law-abiding victims). In both his texts on lawfare (2001, 2009), Dunlap focuses on lawfare used against the US. He refers to ‘foes of the US’ (2001, p. 4) that ‘exploit the vulnerabilities of the US as an open democratic society’. Furthermore, he states that there is ‘disturbing evidence that the rule of law is being hijacked’ into another way of fighting (lawfare) (2001, p. 2). He mentions ‘America’s enemies’ (2001, p. 5) who ‘callously capitalize on collateral damage incidents’ (2001, p. 5). To illustrate his point, he refers to heavy weaponry that was sheltered in mosques and the Taliban who placed a tank and anti-aircraft guns under the trees in front of the office of CARE International (2001, p. 5). In his text written in 2009, he mentions the detainee abuse scandal at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, which he calls ‘the most serious setback since 9/11’, and maintains that ‘the exploitation of the incident by adversaries allowed it to become the perfect effects-based asymmetrical operation that continues to present difficulties for American forces’ (2009, p. 34).

Of course, it is true that hybrid warfare implies this form of lawfare, meaning that professional soldiers are challenged to break their own rules. Yet, what Dunlap fails to see is the moral dimension that bears heavily on these situations. He fails to see his own use of moresfare, as discussed above, and the moresfare underlying the lawfare that he accuses ‘the enemy’ of. This last point becomes clear in another example he uses, namely the occupation of a bridge by voluntary human shields that occurred during the war in the Balkans (op. cit., p. 9). By placing themselves on the bridge, people tried to prevent it from being bombed. Dunlap calls this situation ‘politically complex, but not legally difficult’ (op. cit., p. 9). Dunlap has no eye for the ethical dimension of the situation. The situation is not just about loss of face for politicians, it is about the values held by a community and maybe also by the soldiers who are ordered to bomb the bridge, values such as legitimacy, humanity and justice. The situation is morally/ethically complex and is subsequently politically complex because people are aware of the values that are at stake and are in danger of being violated. What is clear is that Dunlap misses or overlooks the ethical dimension of the situation and thus also misses the effects thereof.

This also holds for the other examples, such as Abu Ghraib. As mentioned above, Dunlap calls the detainee abuse scandal at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq the most serious setback since 9/11 and maintains that ‘the exploitation of the incident by adversaries allowed it to become the perfect effects-based asymmetrical operation that continues to present difficulties for American forces' (p. 34). That may be true, but an incident can only be exploited when the values that people attach great importance to are violated. If there were no violation of values in the first place, there would be no incident that could be exploited.

A similar moral myopia is present in the example of air force lawyers who were criticized for questioning the proposal to strike a statue of Saddam Hussein. Dunlap states that ‘no lawyer ever concluded that bombing the statue was illegal; they only recommended that the target was carefully screened for conformance with existing legal standards’ (op. cit., p. 23). Yet, what neither Dunlap nor the lawyers in question seem to acknowledge is the ethical dimension of the situation and thus the value of the statue in the eyes of the Iraqi people. As General Horner aptly stated with regard to the bombing of the Baath Party Headquarters, ‘In the final analysis we looked at it through American eyes, which was wrong’ (op. cit., p. 9). This moral myopia is precisely the point: not seeing all values at stake, especially not the values of the other stakeholders. The same holds for the ‘manipulation’ of values. Dunlap quotes Reisman and Antoniou, who state that ‘public support can erode or even reverse itself rapidly, no matter how worthy the political objective, if people believe that the war is being conducted in an unfair, inhumane, or iniquitous way’ (p. 35). Notably, people have these beliefs when the values that are at stake (in this case justice and humanity) are actually being violated. It is obvious that there is hardly any manipulation necessary when people are already convinced of the injustice of specific acts, or maybe even the war as such. People are moral agents. In that capacity, they by definition have moral judgements. And in a democratic society they obviously also have moral judgements about the political leaders that they elected to serve the community that they belong to and the military leaders that they, as a community, entrusted with the monopoly of violence.

These are important things to keep in mind when lawfare (and thus the underlying moresfare) is looked upon as something that can also be used in a ‘good’ way. Dunlap states that lawfare is not only something that ‘adversaries seek to use’. ‘[A]s the new counterinsurgency doctrine emphasizes’, it is also ‘a resource that democratic militaries can and should employ affirmatively’ (p. 35). He mentions, for instance, legal weaponry to attack the financial networks of terrorist organizations and other sanctions (p. 35). This double use of lawfare—perceived as done in a positive and constructive way or in a negative and destructive way—is also discussed by Bachmann and Munoz Mosquera (2018). They argue that lawfare is ideally suited to be used as part of successful defensive or offensive comprehensive approaches to twenty-first century conflicts (p. 62) and that hybrid warfare offers a platform for the employment of different means of power (pp. 65–66). The use of law as a weapon is one of them, and like other weapons, the law can be used maliciously or affirmatively (p. 65). Bachmann and Munoz Mosquera maintain that there is a so-called proactive, positive ‘Zeusian’ use of lawfare aimed at neutralizing the malicious ‘Hadesian’ use of the law (p. 41).

However, this is more complex than it may seem. Again, this has everything to do with the values that are involved in lawfare. Misusing these values for political and strategic purposes is precisely what is meant by moresfare (see section “Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law”). This becomes clear in the example both authors give with regard to the misuse of the term ‘peacekeeping’, ‘humanitarian catastrophe’ and ‘genocide’ as a pretext to invade a country, whilst the underlying and hidden motives for the invasion are political and strategic gain (p. 69). By using these terms (and thus misguiding people), military deployment is justified and given the appearance of legitimacy. However, there is no legitimacy from a philosophical just war perspective. Although the just war tradition is not mentioned by Bachmann and Munoz Mosquera, just war principles might also be relevant in the context of hybrid warfare, given the just war tradition’s aim of safeguarding peace, security and humanity (regarding the aims and relevance of the just war tradition, see, for instance, Eberle, 2016; Johnson, 2013; Lazar, 2017; Reichberg et al., 2006; Walzer, 1977). The misuse of these terms and their underlying values means putting aside the most important conditions for a just war (‘just cause’, ‘right intent’ and ‘last resort’).

The ‘just cause’ principle implies that a war can only be called just if it is waged to defend against aggression that is disturbing peace and security. The ‘justness’ of a cause is closely connected to the ‘right intent’ principle, meaning that there are no hidden motives (such as economic, strategic or political gain) and that the cause for which a war is waged is actually ‘just’ in the sense that the aim is to restore the peace and security that were destroyed or maintain the peace and security that were at risk of being destroyed. The third principle mentioned above, which also relates to the ‘justness’ of a cause, implies that before actually deciding to go to war, everything must have been done to avoid the destructiveness of a war (such as sanctions, diplomacy etc.). This is precisely what the principle of ‘last resort’ makes clear. As mentioned above, the philosophical just war tradition, to which these three principles—along with some other principles—belong, was established to actually safeguard values such as humanity and peace and security (see also Verweij, 2019a, b).

When considering the defensive or Zeusian affirmative use of lawfare, as Bachmann and Munoz Mosquera call it, it is important to take the original philosophical just war criteria as a guideline. This is because, as discussed above, the moral/ethical foundation of the just war criteria is the best guarantee for justice and legitimacy. Notably, legitimacy is not the same as legality. Moreover, there is a crucial difference between legality and legitimacy that is directly related to the difference between ethics and law as discussed in section “Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law” (ethics as the alpha and omega of law). A legal order can and should obviously be legal, which means that it is in accordance with the law. However, this does not automatically imply that it is legitimate and thus in accordance with the underlying principles of justice (see also Cliteur & Ellian, 2016). Thus, focusing solely on legality, as Hoffman and Dunlap and to a lesser extent Bachmann and Munoz Mosquera do, means missing the broader moral/ethical point of view. This moral myopia leads to what Honneth calls ‘reification’ (‘Verdinglichung’ in German) (Honneth, 2008). Reification, or losing sight of the humanity of the other, undermines the mutual recognition on which respect is based, as Honneth convincingly demonstrates. This is exactly what is at stake in the discussions of lawfare referred to above.

When, as stated by the authors discussed in this section, a community should not only be protected against the lawfare used by ‘adversaries’ but should also use lawfare as a ‘new counterinsurgency doctrine’, it is crucial to acknowledge the ethical dimension and thus have a keen eye for the values that are at stake or will be at stake in the situation one either wants to realize or wants to avoid. Insight into this ethical dimension also implies insight into lawfare and the moresfare that it entails. Both lawfare as ‘the strategy of using or misusing law as a substitute for traditional military means to achieve an operational objective’ (Dunlap, see section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare”) and moresfare as ‘the use or misuse of values and norms as a weapon of war or as a way to achieve a political objective’ (Verweij, see section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare”) are questionable hybrid strategies. They need guidelines and criteria (like the philosophical just war criteria discussed in this section) to keep them from derailing and affecting intrinsic values.

This claim regarding the necessity of keeping a keen eye on the systemic ethical dimension of the hybrid use of force is further substantiated in the next section by a discussion of the concept of resilience, for legitimacy (being in accordance with the underlying principles of justice) is not only a sine qua non for lawfare and moresfare, but, as Pounds et al. (2018) maintain, also for state resilience.

Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?

As indicated in the introduction, strengthening the resilience of a community is seen as crucial in countering hybrid warfare and thus the lawfare and moresfare that it entails. It is interesting to note that the concept of resilience has become a buzzword, and the literature on this concept is enormous. This section does not aim to review all of this literature and the different definitions used. Not only has this been done by many others (see, for instance, Atkinson et al., 2009; Kaplan, 1999; Zolli & Healy, 2013) but it would also miss the intended purpose of this chapter. As explained below, resilience can best be described as ‘the capacity of a system, enterprise, or a person to maintain its core purpose and integrity in the face of dramatically changed circumstances’ (Zolli & Healy, 2013, p. 7). Transferred to a sociopolitical context, resilience is seen as the strength of a community and its members and, in that capacity, it is considered by both NATO and the EU to counteract the hybrid use of force and the effects of lawfare. As discussed below, against this sociopolitical background, the resilience of a community or society implies, amongst others things, ‘a high level of the competence of a society in critical thinking and the understanding of the nature of hybrid war instruments’; ‘the trust of a society in the integrity of the political system’; ‘a strong sense of belonging to a community, citizen empowerment and economic equity’, which will reduce the potential for division and the polarization of a society and the countering of various groups of society against each other and against the nation’s institutions (Filip, op. cit., p. 67).

It is obvious that this kind of resilience is not automatic. This section aims to show that stimulating and maintaining this form of community resilience implies insight into the systemic ethical dimension. When this insight is absent, there is no clear view on the scope and pitfalls of the concept resilience, let alone on the scope and pitfalls regarding the implementation of this concept. When this is the case, the challenges of hybrid warfare will not be countered. Rather, they will increase, which is exactly what happens when the term resilience is used in a thoughtless and uncritical way. As discussed in the last part of this section, a blind spot is created when it comes to the paradox of resilience.

Resilience as a Personal and Systemic Ideal

It is interesting to note that in a military context resilience is often seen as a disposition that a soldier should aspire to, for instance by developing a stoic attitude (see, for instance, Sherman, 2005). Yet, as the EU and NATO make clear, whole communities need to become resilient in our day and age.

The term resilience is derived from the Latin ‘resilire’, which refers to the ability to bounce back. However, what does ‘bouncing back’ imply? As indicated above, there is an abundant use of the term resilience in many disciplines. It is not only used in psychology but also in education, healthcare, the public sector and many other contexts (see, for instance, Atkinson et al., 2009; Kaplan, 1999; Zolli & Healy, 2013). Obviously, this complicates a precise definition of the term. Yet, as different as the descriptions of resilience may seem, they have some essential points in common: continuity, recovery and learning from and in a changing situation. Zolli and Healy, who discuss the concept of resilience in both systems and people, describe resilience in ecological as well as sociological terms as ‘the capacity of a system, enterprise, or a person to maintain its core purpose and integrity in the face of dramatically changed circumstances’ (Zolli & Healy, p. 7). This definition corresponds to that of Atkinson et al. (2009, p. 137), who define resilience as ‘the ability to apparently recover from the extremes of trauma, deprivation, threat or stress’.

As a psychological process, resilience concerns reconstructing and re-modelling the self, which implies learning and changing. Malabou (2011), who discusses the concept of resilience as recuperative power in the work of Cyrulnik, points to the high degree to which learning and change are in fact possible. Cyrulnik studied several cases of Romanian orphans who managed to constructively survive the traumatizing institutions of the Ceausescu period. With the help (care) provided by their foster families, they managed to overcome the severe impact of their tragic experiences. Malabou discusses healing the ‘tracks’ in their brain, the ‘markers’ of premature affective neglect and the contempt of society. This ties in with Zolli and Healy’s comment that recent scientific research suggests that personal, psychological resilience is more widespread, improvable and teachable than previously thought. The reason for this is that resilience is not only ‘rooted in our character, experiences, values, and genes, but critically in our habits of mind—habits we can cultivate and change’ (Zolli & Healy, 2013, p. 14).

As these descriptions indicate, resilience is often seen as a positive disposition. In the words of Meadows (2008, p. 76), who discusses resilience on a broader, system level, ‘Resilience is a measure of a system’s ability to survive and persist within a variable environment […] it arises from a rich structure of many feedback loops that can work in different ways to restore a system even after a large perturbation’.

Against the background of these positive descriptions, it is no surprise that both the EU and NATO have pinned their hopes on resilience when it comes to countering hybrid warfare attacks. During the NATO Warsaw Summit in 2016, cyberspace was added to the traditional areas of operational warfare and, with it, a commitment to ‘increase resilience’. This ‘requires that all the Alliance’s members maintain and further develop their individual capacity and collective efforts to withstand any form of armed attack. In this context, we are today committed to continuing to improve our resilience to the full range of threats, including hybrid threats, from any direction for a credible defense and effective fulfilment of the Alliance’s main tasks’ (Filip, 2017).

According to Filip (2017), NATO’s focus on resilience is based on two trends: the increasing dependence of today’s armed forces on the capabilities and infrastructures that are owned or operated by the civilian sector and, secondly, the vulnerability of this same sector to external attacks or domestic problems that can be exploited by ‘potential opponents’ (op. cit., p. 65). However, this exploitation cannot take place when the adversary in question is dealing with a resilient society. In the words of Filip, ‘Hybrid war strategy—is essentially a strategy designed to cause disturbances, confusion, destabilization, and paralysis (for example, modelling the behavior of the target nation)—and can be countered by demonstrating that all of these goals are not achieved due to the strength of the target’ (op. cit., p. 67).

What does this strength (resilience) imply? Filip mentions, amongst others things, ‘a high level of the competence of a society in critical thinking and the understanding of the nature of hybrid war instruments’; ‘the trust of a society in the integrity of the political system’; ‘a strong sense of belonging to a community, citizen empowerment and economic equity’, which will reduce the ‘potential for division and polarization of a society and the countering of various groups of society against the others and against the nation’s institutions’ (op. cit., p. 67). In a similar way, the EU states the following in its Global Strategy: ‘It is in the interests of our citizens to invest in the resilience of states and societies to the east stretching into Central Asia, and south down to Central Africa. A resilient society featuring democracy, trust in institutions, and sustainable development lies at the heart of a resilient state’ (Shared Vision, Common Action: A Stronger Europe, A Global Strategy for the European Union’s Foreign and Security Policy).

It is thus clear that a resilient society presupposes quite a bit. It can only arise when certain conditions are met. In fact, one can hear the echo of Freud’s emphasis on the necessity of emotional bonds (see section “Violence, Power and Law and the Role of Emotional Bonds”), for what is basically needed is trust in the political system in question and a sense of belonging to society as a community (see also Zolli and Healy [2013] with regard to the critical role of trust and cooperation). Moreover, as was pointed out by Filip, this implies citizen empowerment (including the ability to think critically) and economic equity. So again, when political leaders wish to have a resilient society, an old but highly relevant adage should be heeded, namely the tranquillitas ordinis, as Augustine, the ‘father’ of the just war tradition, called it: ‘peace or tranquility ensured by good governance in the political realm’ (Augustine cited by Reichberg et al., 2006, p. 177). In other words, a society can only be resilient when the people who make a society a community experience it as just and thus well governed. It hardly needs saying that this is not automatic and requires considerable effort in our current Zeitgeist, which brings me to the paradox of resilience.

The Paradox of Resilience

As the previous section shows, the concept of resilience is more complex than it appears to be at first sight. Moreover, an uncritical and thus unreflective use of the term might lead to unwanted and harmful consequences, for resilience might lead to its opposed effect, or might be seen as interchangeable with its counterpart, as several authors have demonstrated. Zolli and Healy (2013), for instance, point out that resilience should not be equated with robustness (op. cit., p. 13) and Meadows (2008, p. 76) maintains that the opposites of resilience are brittleness and rigidity. Similarly, Ogunbode et al. (2019) state that resilience does not imply an absence of vulnerability, and distress and disorder are normal responses to adversity and trauma and do not indicate a lack of resilience (op. cit., p. 705).

Resilience thus implies a certain amount of sensitivity and should not be put on a par with hardness or invulnerability, for this would paradoxically lead to the opposite of resilience and thus to the opposite of what one aspires to. In addition, resilience is a relative concept in the sense that it is related to different contexts and thus to different forms of vulnerability and invulnerability in these contexts. Zolli and Healy (2013, p. 17) rightly point out that resilience is not a virtue in itself, for ‘terrorists and criminal organizations are also highly resilient’. A similar point is made by Atkinson et al. (2009) in their discussion of two groups of resilient nurses in the context of the Second World War. Members of both groups put their nursing skills into practice. However, the first group worked in the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, helping and caring for those in need. The other group of nurses assisted in murdering the patients in their care as part of the ‘euthanasia’ programme for people with physical or mental disabilities. According to Atkinson et al. (2009), both groups can be considered resilient, yet in different and opposite ways. Resilience can be attributed to members of the first group on the basis of their care for and devotion to people in need despite the inhumane working conditions and to members of the second group on the basis of their dutifulness, planning abilities and focus on survival. The care for others, the compassion and empathy (first group), stands in sharp contrast to the absence thereof (second group).

However, since both groups can be considered resilient, and resilience thus seems to refer to two extremes on a continuum, the first form might paradoxically transform into its opposite. In other words, given specific circumstances and influences, the compassionate and emphatic attitude might paradoxically turn into its opposite and thus into ego-focused hardness, at almost all costs. The paradox of resilience can also be detected in the context of climate change. Ogunbode et al. (2019) discovered that the reduction of emotional responses and the capacity to be able to deal with extreme weather conditions (such as floods) might lead to a diminished motivation for and engagement with actions to counter climate change. The ability to accommodate the problem (the resilient ability) seems to stand in the way of solving the problem (or taking action that contributes to solving the problem).

This paradox is also underlined by Diprose (2014), who argues that a focus on resilience might encourage people to accept a life of insecurity and social struggle and can undermine collective action for change. It places the responsibility for inequality, insecurity and detrimental social conditions with the individual and not with the government.

Resilience can thus transform into its own opposite meaning. In certain situations, it can become the opposite of empowerment or the opposite of empathy and compassion, as was the case with the second group of nurses in the example discussed above. Thus, the resilience that people are praised for might at the same time imply an acceptance of detrimental and destructive circumstances and subsequently of pain and inhumanity and other problematic and inhumane consequences, without efforts being made to change these circumstances. It can disenfranchise people and block their ability and willingness for constructive change. Given this paradox of resilience and the negative moral/ethical consequences it may generate, resilience is clearly not the panacea that it is sometimes considered to be. However, this does not mean that the concept is of no use. As was concluded in section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare”, both lawfare and moresfare are questionable hybrid strategies. They need guidelines and criteria to keep them from derailing and affecting intrinsic values; they therefore need a systemic ethical approach. This also holds for resilience as a way to counter hybrid strategies. Only resilience built on this systemic approach engenders the trust, cooperation, compassion and respect that is aspired for by the EU and NATO.

Conclusion

In discussions on hybrid warfare and the countering thereof, the connection between violence, power and law and the crucial role of the psychological and ethical dimension are often overlooked, as section “Violence, Power and Law and the Role of Emotional Bonds” made clear. Emotions and the values associated with these emotions strengthen the bonds between the communities at war, or in conflict, either for better or for worse, yet this crucial role of ethics and psychology on a political level is often put aside, minimized or acknowledged only in a limited or unilateral way, as was illustrated by the different assessments of present-day conflicts by Kaldor and Hoffman in section “Hybrid Warfare”. This difference between the two authors is caused by the fact that Kaldor includes a broader ethicopolitical approach in her analysis and thus addresses the values that are at stake in the (global) system as a whole, whereas Hoffman primarily focuses on the US (and Western societies) as a victim of aggression. Section “Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law” made clear that this broader ethicopolitical approach helps us to better understand hybrid warfare and specifically the way in which, in hybrid warfare, values and the emotions associated with these values are played upon, influenced, questioned and moulded. This way of using and misusing values and norms was called ‘moresfare’ and is connected to the more familiar lawfare, as was explained in section “Moresfare and the Dynamic Between Ethics and Law”. The concept of ‘moresfare’ not only contributes to a sound understanding of hybrid warfare but also helps to reveal the interaction between ethics and law, especially in hybrid conflicts, as section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare” made clear.

The dynamic between ethics and law is often overlooked, which is caused by the fact that legitimacy and legality are put on a par. Legitimacy is not the same as legality, however. Moreover, placing legality above legitimacy means missing the moral/ethical point of view and therefore also the moresfare beneath lawfare. The analysis of the texts of several authors on hybrid warfare and its lawfare strategies in section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare” revealed the moresfare underneath the lawfare and identified them both as questionable strategies that need guidelines and criteria to forestall both strategies from derailing and affecting intrinsic values. The philosophical just war criteria might still be useful in this regard, as was suggested in section “The Danger of Moral Myopia in Lawfare”. This means that insight into the systemic ethical dimension is indispensable, and the absence thereof, or moral myopia, can have destructive consequences. This also holds for the countering of hybrid warfare, as section “Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?” made clear. Moral myopia implies a blindness to the system as a whole and leads to a thoughtless and uncritical use of the term resilience and the absence of a clear view on the paradox of resilience, as was discussed in section “Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?”.

The problems this generates should be taken seriously, for both the EU and NATO have pinned their hopes on resilience as a way to counter hybrid warfare. However, the resilient society they aspire to presupposes the emotional bonds Freud addressed and insight into the political dimension of emotions (as section “Violence, Power and Law and the Role of Emotional Bonds” made clear). It also presupposes trust in the political system and its leaders, citizen empowerment (including the ability to think critically) and economic equity, as was discussed in section “Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?”. Added to that, it calls for attention to be paid to the paradox of resilience, for resilience can develop in its own opposite meaning. The final part of section “Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?” showed that it can become the opposite of empowerment and can disenfranchise people.

In order to forestall this, a systemic ethical approach is needed, since that can guarantee that the values and associated interests of all stakeholders and the effects of actions taken, including the long-term effects, are taken into account. This approach is a way of system-thinking that seems indispensable, for resilience built on this systemic approach can engender the trust, cooperation, compassion and respect discussed in section “Countering Hybrid Threats: Resilience as a Panacea?”. If this systemic ethical approach is absent, countering hybrid warfare and, in line with that, strengthening the resilience of a community are doomed to fail.

However, resilience does not refer to a fixed point that can be reached once and for all. Rather, it seems to be a moment of balance in a continuum stretching from extreme vulnerability and fragility to invulnerability and hardness; from hypersensitivity to insensitivity. Yet, this whole continuum is part of our human condition. Therefore, the best that we can aspire for in our often messy ethicopolitical endeavours are moments of balance—possibly a shaky balance—between the extremes of the continuum. By definition, this balance contains elements of both sides.