Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6

[Sefaria URL: https://www.sefaria.org/Mishneh_Torah%2C_Kings_and_Wars_6]

Hook

Even in the grim calculus of war, the Rambam insists on a universal offer of peace, an unexpected ethical baseline that shapes every subsequent decision. What does it mean for halakha to regulate war so meticulously, even mandating a way out for the enemy?

Context

The Rambam’s Mishneh Torah, completed in the late 12th century, is a monumental work, a systematic codification of all Jewish law drawn from the Torah, Talmud, and rabbinic literature. It’s structured logically, rather than chronologically or by biblical book, making it an accessible and comprehensive legal guide. Within this grand edifice, Hilchot Melachim U'Milchamot (Laws of Kings and Wars) holds a unique place. It outlines the laws pertaining to a Jewish monarch, including the intricate regulations governing warfare, justice, and the ideal Messianic era. For centuries, Jews lived without a sovereign state, yet the Rambam meticulously preserved and articulated these laws, anticipating a future where they would again be relevant. This act of codification itself speaks volumes, transforming what might seem like historical narratives into enduring legal principles.

Crucially, the Rambam distinguishes between two primary types of war, a distinction he defines in earlier chapters (as noted by Steinsaltz on 6:1:1, referencing chapter 5, halakha 1): milchemet mitzvah (an obligatory war) and milchemet hareshut (a discretionary war). Milchemet mitzvah includes wars against Amalek, the conquest of the Land of Israel, and defensive wars. Milchemet hareshut refers to wars waged by a king for expansion or to enhance his kingdom's prestige. This chapter, Kings and Wars 6, begins by stating its principles apply to both types, immediately establishing a universal ethical framework for engagement, even for divinely commanded wars. This universalism is further underscored by the emphasis on the "seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendents" (Steinsaltz on 6:1:2). These Noahide Laws – prohibiting idolatry, blasphemy, murder, theft, sexual immorality, eating flesh torn from a living animal, and requiring the establishment of courts of justice – represent a universal moral code incumbent upon all humanity. The Rambam's insistence that these laws form the basis for peace offers a profound insight: the Jewish vision for universal peace is not about forced conversion, but about global adherence to fundamental moral principles. This context reveals that the Rambam is not merely detailing military strategy, but articulating a profound theological and ethical vision for how a Jewish nation, empowered with sovereignty, should interact with the world around it, balancing divine command with a deep commitment to justice and moral order. The meticulous detail, from the conditions for peace to the rules of siege and even army hygiene, underscores the Rambam's comprehensive and holistic approach to halakha, demonstrating that even in the most extreme circumstances, ethical boundaries and divine mandates remain paramount.

Text Snapshot

"War, neither a milchemet hareshut or a milchemet mitzvah, should not be waged against anyone until they are offered the opportunity of peace as Deuteronomy 20:10 states: 'When you approach a city to wage war against it, you should propose a peaceful settlement.'" (Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6:1)

"If the enemy accepts the offer of peace and commits itself to the fulfillment of the seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendents, none of them should be killed. Rather, they should be subjugated as ibid.:11 states: 'They shall be your subjects and serve you.'" (Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6:1)

"However, if either the seven nations or Amalek refuse to accept a peaceful settlement, not one soul of them may be left alive as ibid. 20:15-16 states: 'Do this to all the cities that ... are not the cities of these nations. However, from the cities of these nations,... do not leave a soul alive.'" (Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6:4)

Close Reading

Insight 1: Structure – The Layered Progression from Universal Ideal to Specific Mandate

The Rambam's presentation of the laws of war in this chapter is a masterclass in systematic legal reasoning, revealing a carefully layered progression that moves from a broad, universal ethical ideal to highly specific, and sometimes stark, divine mandates. This structure is not arbitrary; it's a deliberate pedagogical and legal strategy that allows the Rambam to articulate a comprehensive vision for warfare rooted in both universal morality and particularistic divine command.

The chapter opens with a foundational principle: the universal offer of peace (6:1). This is the initial, overriding ethical imperative, applied to both discretionary (milchemet hareshut) and obligatory (milchemet mitzvah) wars. By starting here, the Rambam establishes a moral baseline, asserting that even when conflict is deemed necessary, the pursuit of peace, or at least a peaceful resolution, is the first and most preferred option. This immediate invocation of Deuteronomy 20:10 ("When you approach a city to wage war against it, you should propose a peaceful settlement") sets a tone of restraint and measured action, challenging any notion of unbridled aggression. The conditions for this peace – acceptance of the seven Noahide laws, subjugation, and tribute – are then meticulously detailed, defining the terms of a new, albeit unequal, relationship (6:1-3). This phase defines the ideal outcome for any war: not annihilation, but integration under a moral and political framework.

Following this universal principle, the Rambam introduces the first significant deviation: the unique status of the Seven Nations of Canaan and Amalek (6:4). Here, the universal offer of peace is still theoretically extended, but the consequence of refusal is absolute annihilation: "not one soul of them may be left alive." This shift from a general rule to specific exceptions is critical. It signals that while peace is the ideal, certain historical or theological contexts necessitate a different, harsher response. The Rambam supports this with verses from Deuteronomy (20:15-16 and 25:19), demonstrating that these exceptions are not arbitrary but are themselves divinely mandated. The mention of Joshua's three letters to the Canaanites (6:5) serves to historically validate that even these nations were offered peace, thereby upholding the initial universal principle while acknowledging the unique severity of their punishment for refusal. This ensures that the harshness is a consequence of their choice, not a pre-emptive act.

The structure further refines these exceptions with the case of Ammon and Moav (6:6). Unlike the Seven Nations or Amalek, to whom a peace offer is made (even if rejection leads to annihilation), no peace offer should be made to Ammon and Moav. However, a crucial nuance is added: "if they sue for peace themselves, we may accept their offer." This introduces a third category, illustrating a complex hierarchy of relationships and divine commands. The progression is from: 1) universal offer, 2) offer with extreme consequences for refusal, to 3) no proactive offer, but acceptance if initiated by them. Each layer reveals a more particularistic instruction, moving further away from the initial universal ideal, but always tied back to specific biblical verses and rabbinic interpretation.

Finally, the chapter shifts to the practical conduct of war, detailing rules for siege (6:7), the prohibition of bal tashchit (wanton destruction, 6:8-10), conduct on Shabbat (6:11), and army camp regulations (6:12-14). This final section demonstrates that even in the midst of conflict, ethical and practical halakhic considerations are paramount. It shows how the abstract principles of war translate into tangible, behavioral norms, from environmental protection to personal hygiene. The Rambam’s systematic layering — from the general ethical imperative to the specific exceptions and then to practical application — allows him to construct a comprehensive and nuanced legal framework for warfare, revealing a deep commitment to both divine command and ethical conduct.

Insight 2: Key Term – The Weight of "Subjugation" and "Seven Mitzvot"

The Rambam's text hinges on the interconnected concepts of "subjugation" and the "seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendents" as the non-negotiable conditions for peace. These terms are not mere administrative requirements; they articulate a profound vision for the ideal relationship between a sovereign Jewish state and its non-Jewish neighbors, revealing the moral and political underpinnings of peace itself.

The text states: "If the enemy accepts the offer of peace and commits itself to the fulfillment of the seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendents, none of them should be killed. Rather, they should be subjugated..." (6:1). This sentence presents a dual requirement, one moral/religious and the other political/social.

Let's first unpack "the seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendents." Steinsaltz (6:1:2) notes that these are "the commandments that gentiles are obligated in." These universal laws – prohibiting idolatry, blasphemy, murder, theft, sexual immorality, eating flesh torn from a living animal, and requiring the establishment of courts of justice – represent the foundational ethical framework for all humanity according to Jewish tradition. The Rambam's insistence on their acceptance as a prerequisite for peace elevates the conflict beyond mere territorial or political dispute. It transforms the potential war into a struggle for moral order. The Jewish state, in this vision, is not just conquering land but establishing a sphere where fundamental righteousness prevails. This means that a nation can secure peace and avoid annihilation not by converting to Judaism, but by committing to a basic standard of human decency and justice. This is a remarkably inclusive universalism, demanding moral alignment rather than religious conformity, yet it sets a very clear boundary for what constitutes an acceptable society.

Then comes the condition of "subjugation." The Rambam elaborates: "The subjugation they must accept consists of being on a lower level, scorned and humble. They must never raise their heads against Israel, but must remain subjugated under their rule. They may never be appointed over a Jew in any matter whatsoever" (6:1). Steinsaltz (6:1:4) clarifies this as "that they be subject to Israel and inferior to them in status." This is a stark portrayal, far removed from modern liberal ideals of equality and self-determination. It implies not just political control, but a social hierarchy and a psychological state of submission. The requirement that they "never raise their heads against Israel" suggests a permanent state of deference, designed to prevent future rebellion or challenge to Israel's sovereignty. The prohibition against appointing them "over a Jew in any matter whatsoever" further reinforces this hierarchical structure, ensuring Jewish leadership and authority.

The combination of accepting the Noahide laws and undergoing subjugation is crucial. The Noahide laws provide the moral license for their continued existence and integration into a broader moral order, while subjugation ensures political stability and the recognition of Israel's divinely ordained authority. Peace, in this framework, is not a pact between equals but a conditional arrangement where the defeated party accepts both the moral authority (Noahide laws) and the political supremacy (subjugation and tribute, Steinsaltz 6:1:5) of the Jewish kingdom. This reveals a deep concern for both the ethical fabric of society and the long-term security and unique spiritual mission of Israel. The very harshness of "scorned and humble" is intended to prevent any resurgence of animosity or challenge to the new order, ensuring that the peace is truly settled and the threat neutralized.

Insight 3: Tension – Reconciling Universal Mercy with Particularistic Annihilation and Ethical Warfare

The Rambam's laws of war navigate a profound and often uncomfortable tension between several competing imperatives: the universal call for peace and mercy, the particularistic commands for annihilation, and the meticulous ethical regulations governing the conduct of war itself. This creates a complex tapestry where ethical ideals clash with existential necessities and divine decrees.

The most striking tension arises from the opening declaration: "War... should not be waged against anyone until they are offered the opportunity of peace" (6:1). This establishes a universal principle of restraint, demanding that even in the pursuit of war, the option for a peaceful resolution must always be extended. This is a powerful statement of mercy and justice, suggesting that violence is a last resort, entered only after the refusal of a moral and political settlement. However, this universalism is immediately confronted by the chilling particularistic commands regarding the Seven Nations of Canaan and Amalek: "if either the seven nations or Amalek refuse to accept a peaceful settlement, not one soul of them may be left alive" (6:4).

How does the Rambam reconcile the universal offer of peace with the specific command for annihilation? The text implies that the offer is indeed made to these nations, but their refusal triggers the absolute command. Joshua's three letters to the Canaanites (6:5) historically demonstrate that such offers were extended, even to those slated for destruction. This suggests that the command for annihilation is not a pre-emptive act of divine wrath, but a consequence of their rejection of a fundamental moral order and Israel's right to the land. The Rambam thus preserves the principle of offering peace as a universal ideal, even when the consequences of refusal are uniquely severe due to the specific historical, theological, and existential threat posed by these groups (e.g., Amalek's unprovoked attack and the Canaanites' moral depravity and idolatry, which could corrupt Israel). The tension is managed by framing the annihilation as a justified consequence of their choice, rather than an initial, unprovoked act.

A second, equally compelling tension exists between the brutal reality of warfare and the meticulous ethical constraints placed upon it. While the text discusses killing all males past majority and taking spoil (6:4), it simultaneously outlines strict humanitarian and environmental regulations. The siege of a city, for instance, must not surround it on all four sides, but "only on three. A place should be left for the inhabitants to flee and for all those who desire, to escape with their lives" (6:7). This is a remarkable act of mercy, ensuring a path for escape even for those targeted in war.

Even more striking is the extensive discussion of bal tashchit – the prohibition against wanton destruction. The Rambam explicitly states: "We should not cut down fruit trees outside a city nor prevent an irrigation ditch from bringing water to them so that they dry up, as Deuteronomy 20:19 states: 'Do not destroy its trees.' Anyone who cuts down such a tree should be lashed" (6:8). This prohibition extends far beyond trees: "Anyone who breaks utensils, tears garments, destroys buildings, stops up a spring, or ruins food with a destructive intent transgresses the command 'Do not destroy'" (6:10). Steinsaltz (6:10:1, 6:10:2) clarifies that while the Torah specifies trees for malkot (lashes), the Sages extended the principle to all destructive acts, mandating makkat mardut (stripes for rebellious conduct).

This deep ethical concern for the environment and for resources, even in the chaos of war, creates a powerful tension. How can a war that permits the killing of enemy combatants simultaneously forbid the destruction of a fruit tree or the wanton tearing of a garment? This reveals a profound Jewish value: the sanctity of creation and the rejection of purposeless destruction. War, for the Rambam, is not an excuse for moral anarchy. It must be conducted within a divinely ordained framework that mitigates its inherent destructiveness, preserves resources for future generations, and reflects a higher ethical sensibility. The tension highlights that even when engaged in the necessary evils of war, humanity is still bound by a transcendent moral law that limits harm and preserves the fabric of existence. The detailed rules for army hygiene (6:13-14) further underscore this, connecting cleanliness and order in the camp to the very presence of God: "'God walks among your camp,... therefore, your camp shall be holy.'" This implies that maintaining ethical and physical purity is an integral part of warfare, ensuring that the act of war itself does not corrupt the moral and spiritual essence of the Jewish people.

Two Angles

The Rambam's assertion that a peace offer must be extended even to the Seven Nations of Canaan before conquest raises a critical point of interpretation that highlights differing approaches among classic commentators, particularly between Rashi and Ramban. The core tension is whether this offer was a genuine opportunity for survival or a pro forma step before an inevitable, divinely mandated annihilation.

Rashi's Textual Focus on Universal Application

Rashi, in his commentary on Deuteronomy 20:10 ("When you approach a a city to wage war against it, you should propose a peaceful settlement"), generally adheres to a straightforward, literal interpretation of the biblical text (pshat). For Rashi, this command is universal, applying to all cities, without immediate distinctions for the Seven Nations. His focus is on the direct instruction from the Torah. When the Torah says "any city," it means any city.

Rashi would likely interpret the Rambam's statement that "if either the seven nations or Amalek refuse to accept a peaceful settlement, not one soul of them may be left alive" (6:4) as a direct consequence of their refusal, rather than an indication that the initial offer was insincere. For Rashi, the divine command for annihilation of the Seven Nations (Deuteronomy 20:16) and Amalek (Deuteronomy 25:19) comes into effect after the peace offer is rejected. This approach emphasizes the procedural integrity of the halakha: an offer is made, and the outcome depends on the response. The fact that the ultimate outcome for these nations is so severe doesn't negate the initial, genuine obligation to offer peace. Rashi often avoids delving into deep philosophical justifications for divine commands, preferring to clarify the explicit meaning of the words and their immediate legal implications. His interpretation supports the idea that the offer was a true opportunity, and had they accepted the Noahide laws and subjugation, they would have been spared. The historical account of Joshua's letters (6:5) serves as clear proof for Rashi that this procedure was indeed followed.

Ramban's Ethical and Philosophical Depth

Nachmanides (Ramban), a contemporary of the Rambam, often engages with the ethical and philosophical implications of the Torah's commands, seeking to reconcile apparent contradictions and provide deeper theological insight. While agreeing with the halakha that a peace offer must be made, Ramban, in his commentary on Deuteronomy 20:10, likely grapples more profoundly with why such an offer is commanded, especially when the divine decree against the Seven Nations seems so absolute.

Ramban would emphasize that the very act of offering peace, even to those designated for annihilation, is a testament to God's justice and mercy. It demonstrates that destruction is not arbitrary but conditional. The offer provides a genuine opportunity for these nations to accept a universal moral code (the Noahide laws) and Israel's sovereignty, thereby choosing life over death. For Ramban, this isn't merely a legal formality; it's a profound statement about human free will and divine accountability. The Creator, even when issuing a severe decree, provides a path for repentance and survival. The destruction becomes a consequence of their refusal to align with a basic moral framework and acknowledge the divinely ordained order, not a capricious act. Ramban would likely explore how this system underscores the universality of the Noahide covenant and Israel's role in establishing a just world order. He might also delve into the unique spiritual danger posed by the Seven Nations, arguing that their depravity was such that only their complete moral and political subjugation (or annihilation upon refusal) could safeguard the nascent Jewish nation from corruption. His approach seeks to find the underlying wisdom and justice in seemingly harsh commands, affirming that God's ways are always righteous, even when they challenge human understanding.

In essence, while both Rashi and Ramban agree on the procedural necessity of the peace offer, Rashi emphasizes the literal application of the law, whereas Ramban delves into the ethical and theological reasons behind the law, showcasing its profound implications for divine justice and human responsibility.

Practice Implication

The Rambam's meticulous expansion of bal tashchit (the prohibition against wanton destruction) from merely cutting down fruit trees in wartime to "anyone who breaks utensils, tears garments, destroys buildings, stops up a spring, or ruins food with a destructive intent" (6:10) has profound implications for our daily practice and decision-making, far beyond the battlefield. This halakha teaches us a fundamental principle of stewardship and respect for creation that permeates all aspects of life.

In a world increasingly grappling with environmental crises, consumerism, and planned obsolescence, bal tashchit serves as a powerful ethical counter-narrative. It challenges us to reconsider our relationship with material possessions, natural resources, and the environment. This isn't merely a prohibition against waste; it's a positive commandment to cultivate a mindset of appreciation, preservation, and responsible use.

Practically, this means:

1. Mindful Consumption: Before acquiring something new, we should consider if we truly need it, if it's durable, and what its lifecycle impact will be. It encourages repairing items rather than discarding them, finding alternative uses for things that are no longer needed, and avoiding impulse purchases that lead to clutter and waste.
2. Resource Management: Whether it's water, electricity, or food, bal tashchit calls for prudent use. Leaving lights on unnecessarily, letting water run, or throwing away edible food are all actions that, while perhaps not incurring malkot, certainly violate the spirit of this command. It fosters a sense of gratitude for what we have and a recognition that resources are finite.
3. Environmental Ethics: The extension of bal tashchit beyond fruit trees to encompass all forms of destructive intent underscores a broader reverence for the natural world. It implies a responsibility to protect ecosystems, prevent pollution, and engage in sustainable practices. Chopping down a non-fruit-bearing tree "with destructive intent" is also forbidden, highlighting that the value is in avoiding wanton destruction itself, not just the loss of a specific utility. This principle informs decisions about land use, industrial practices, and even personal recycling habits.
4. Respect for Labor and Value: Destroying an item, even if it's one's own, diminishes the labor and resources that went into its creation. Bal tashchit encourages us to see the inherent value in things, not just their utility to us at a given moment. This fosters an appreciation for human effort and ingenuity.

Ultimately, bal tashchit, codified in the extreme context of war, demands that we maintain an ethical compass even when circumstances might tempt us toward recklessness. It reminds us that we are stewards, not absolute owners, of our possessions and the planet. This principle shapes daily decisions by urging us to live consciously, sustainably, and with profound respect for the world and its resources, reflecting a divine perspective that values continuity and creation over destruction and waste.

Chevruta Mini

Question 1: Universal Mercy vs. Particularistic Annihilation

The Rambam details a universal imperative to offer peace before war to any city, yet immediately lists exceptions like the Seven Nations and Amalek, for whom annihilation is commanded if peace is refused. What tension arises here regarding divine justice and the boundaries of mercy? How might we reconcile these seemingly contradictory commands, or do they represent distinct categories of divine interaction with humanity that challenge our modern ethical frameworks?

Question 2: Practical Necessity vs. Ethical Limitation in Warfare

Despite the brutal realities of warfare, the Rambam meticulously outlines ethical constraints such as besieging only three sides, not destroying fruit trees (bal tashchit), and ensuring proper hygiene in army camps. What does this emphasis on ethical conduct, even in the midst of violence, reveal about the Torah's vision for human behavior? How might these principles challenge contemporary notions of "total war" or the pragmatism often associated with conflict, and how do we apply such a nuanced approach in situations demanding immediate, decisive action?

Takeaway

The Rambam's laws of war present a complex interplay of universal ethics, particularistic commands, and meticulous practical detail, underscoring a divine mandate for both justice and restraint in even the most extreme circumstances.