Amartya Sen's memoir, Home in the World, is a compelling read, giving a fascinating view of the making of the mind of one of the foremost public intellectuals of our time. In reflections on the first three decades of his life—all filled with an amazing range of experiences, encounters, and intellectual explorations that span Asia, Europe, and North America—Sen weaves a comprehensive and interlocking narrative that brings together a unitary worldview where two multi-dimensional themes are juxtaposed throughout the book: the presence of the past and the convergence of the near and the far. In this essay, I highlight some of the life experiences and lessons shared in Sen's memoir grounded in his ideas of identity and shared humanity. These ideas took on a prominent place in Sen's life, in part, through his educational experience at the innovative school founded by the visionary poet Rabindranath Tagore. I draw on the views of both Sen and Tagore, as discussed in Sen's memoir. These lessons and ideas can help us in appreciating the power of knowledge, the value of education, and the allure of diversity. They can also guide us in our search for a more just world.

One of the most pronounced features of the war in Ukraine has been the heavy reliance of the Russian forces on convict-soldiers, most notably by the private military and security company (PMSC) the Wagner Group. In this essay, I explore the ethical problems with using convict-soldiers and assess how using them compares to other military arrangements, such as conscription or an all-volunteer force. Overall, I argue that the central issue with using prisoners to fight wars is their perceived expendability. To do this, I present three arguments. First, although many prisoners have been under major duress, using convict-soldiers may be somewhat preferable to using conscripts in this regard. Second, convict-soldiers are more likely to be subject to human rights abuses than other types of soldiers and this should be seen as the main problem with their use. Third, convict-soldiers’ liability to lethal force for fighting in an unjust war does not render it permissible to treat them as expendable.

As part of the roundtable “World Peace (And How We Can Achieve It),” this essay argues that an ideal state of peace might not be attainable, but a positive form of peace could be achieved on a global scale if states and peoples made a serious investment—comparable to their investment in military expenditure—in promoting the kind of mutual cultural understanding that reduces tensions and divisions and fosters cooperation. Peacemaking usually focuses on diplomatic and military détente; the argument in this essay is that these endeavors, though obviously important, are not by themselves enough for the best attainable kind of peace, for which the further and even more important aim of cultural entente is essential. This implies that peacemaking activities need to apply vastly more effort to intercultural and interpersonal exchange and education.

Exploitation of the executive exercise of covert operations has presented a dilemma, but Colby maintains that even in peacetime a “democratic society must have and respect some secrets.” Does democracy, by its inherent nature, preclude the employment of covert action, even under exceptional conditions? Colby argues that the constitutional decision-making process is an ethical and legal one. In wartime, a “just” war is the goal, and the use of covert action must be evaluated by two essential criteria: self-defense and proportionality to the act requiring self-defense.

Donaldson argues that agreeing with Hardin to banish deontological justifications from international discussion amounts to abandoning the power of deontology to interpret political intent and to establish hard limits on political behavior. The moral language of deontology may not be sufficient for the moral interpretation of international affairs, he admits, but does turn out to be necessary.

The United States' foreign policy in Afghanistan has a long history of misguided plans and misplaced trust—a fact that has contributed to the destruction of the social and physical infrastructure of Afghan society. Afghans contend that after having fought as U.S. allies against the Soviet Union—with the price of more than two million dead—the United States swiftly walked away at the end of that bloody, twenty-three-year conflict. The toll of the war on Afghan society reflected in current statistics is so staggering as to be practically unimaginable: 12 million women living in abject poverty, 1 million people handicapped from land mine explosions, an average life expectancy of forty years (lower for women), a mortality rate of 25.7 percent for children under five years old, and an illiteracy rate of 64 percent. These horrific indicators place Afghanistan among the most destitute countries in the world in terms of human development.

Responding to the critiques of the four previous authors, Walzer opens with a statement of the inherent imperfection of any theory of war. He reminds us that theories are merely frameworks for decisions and cannot provide answers in and of themselves. Moral decisions in war are especially difficult, for it is often necessary to choose between equally valid claims. Walzer continues the discussion of sieges initiated by both Koontz and Boyle and concedes the validity of Koontz's criticism of inconsistency in his theory of noncombatant immunity. Addressing the different authors' moral doctrines–Hendrickson's consequentialism and Koontz's and Boyle's deontology–Walzer argues that it is better to judge each case individually, weighing both the consequences and principles, rather than strictly adhere to one moral doctrine, an approach commended by Smith. Finally, in the search for a perfect just war theory, Walzer issues a realist reminder that there can be no such thing as a morally perfect war.

In a recent report by Princeton's Woodrow Wilson School of International Affairs, “Education in U.S. Schools of International Affairs,” Princeton's former president Robert F. Goheen presents several crucial factors in the apparent decline of international studies in the U.S. The private sector, which at first demanded broadly-educated professionals, have recently shown little enthusiasm for students of international affairs. This has resulted in lack of funding and lack of interest in the field of international studies. This is paradoxical primarily because the students of international affairs undergo a multidiscplinary curriculum, facilitating their adaptation to practically any field of work following graduation, contrary to those students who have chosen a strict and narrow profession. Unfortunately, much of the fault, according to the report lies with the universities and the graduates themselves, who fail to articulate properly their comparative essential advantage in the broad field of their education. Thompson expounds on a more serious ramification of the decline in interest in international studies: the imminent failure to foresee future international crises. As the case of Iraq's growing power in the Middle East has demonstrated, the U.S. looked the other way, toward the developments in the former Soviet Union, and was not able to act in time to circumvent Iraq's aggression. With the world looking to the U.S. for strategic leadership in ethics and power, Americans cannot afford to deny American youth a strong foundation and education in international studies.