The Epistemic Priority of Suffering in Christian Political Discernment: Ellacuría’s Hermeneutics of Violence in the Reality of El Salvador

Abstract

In a context marked by polarization and diminished trust in nonviolent solutions, this article examines whether Christian political discernment can offer a viable response to the apparent inevitability of war. In light of Pope Francis’s critique of the applicability of just war reasoning amid today’s global arm’s race and advanced technology, this study investigates how Ignacio Ellacuría confronted the question of violence in El Salvador and reflects on its transnational relevance for Christian ethics in the face of contemporary conflicts. Through a close reading of Ellacuría’s philosophical and theological writings, informed by Xavier Zubiri’s philosophy, this article reconstructs the ambiguities and multiple meanings of violence that arise in situations of structural injustice and limit situations. Ellacuría’s commitment to the historical reality reveals his critique of the deficiencies of abstract or universal theories, including the appeal to legitimate defense, in favor of a praxis of discernment grounded in the lived experience of the poor. This study finds that Ellacuría locates the epistemic center of political judgment in the suffering of victims. This article concludes that Ellacuría’s provides an important contribution for renewing Christian political ethics in the 21st century by prioritizing the voices of those who suffer as the fundamental criterion for responding ethically to democratic crises and structural oppression.

1. Introduction

The reality of war is once again reshaping the world. It is no longer a distant phenomenon or an experience affecting only “others” far away. Contemporary global conflicts—in Ukraine, the Middle East, parts of Africa (including Nigeria, Mozambique, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, among others), Myanmar, India–Pakistan, Haiti, to name only a few—are killing millions of people every day and have far-reaching repercussions that affect the entire world. Pope Francis has described this context as a “third world war fought piecemeal,” observing that “one can speak of a third war, one fought in fragments, marked by crimes, massacres, and destruction” (BBC 2014). These conflicts are increasingly encroaching upon all societies, regardless of geographical location, and their threats are shaping political decisions, economic systems, and social relationships both within and between nations. Peace appears increasingly elusive, even utopian. As Pope Leo notes in his first Message for the World Day of Peace, “confrontational logic now dominates global politics, deepening instability and unpredictability day by day” (Leo XIV 2025).

In an era marked by intensifying polarization and rivalry, violence appears to have become an inescapable reality. Nations, civil groups, and individuals seem to have lost their trust in the power of dialog and negotiation for resolving disputes and conflicts. To call for the need of disarmament today is often dismissed as naive or unrealistic. Distrust has saturated the political arena and it fuels the accelerating global arms race. Pope John XXIII’s prophetic words in the encyclical Pacem in Terris (1963)–that peace depends not on the “possession of an equal supply of armaments but only in mutual trust” (John XXIII 1963, no. 113)–have largely lost their echo in the public arena and have no practical meaning in contemporary politics.

From a Christian perspective, this context calls for a renewed discernment of how the salvific mission of Jesus can be carried out in the midst of a world shattered by multiple conflicts, where millions of people are dying and suffering. The Catechism of the Catholic Church proposes a “prudential judgment” guided by the fundamental principles of the so called just war doctrine, allowing the use of force only in cases of legitimate self-defense when all other peaceful means of putting an end to a grave and unjust situation have failed or are ineffective (Libreria Editrice Vaticana 1993, no. 2038-9). However, the moral legitimacy of this course of action needs to be submitted to a rigorous consideration.

However, in recent years, Pope Francis has strongly challenged the viability of just war reasoning to carry out the mission of justice and peace announced by the kingdom of God. For Francis, the moral legitimacy for using coercive force mentioned in the Catechism depends on strict criteria that justify not war but the possibility of military and proportional legitimate defense. Drawing on the encyclical Fratelli Tutti (2020), Francis argues that the criteria of proportionality and necessity are rendered obsolete in light of the current development of nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, and the growing possibilities offered by new technologies. “We can no longer think of war as a solution, because its risks will probably always be greater than its supposed benefits.” And he adds: “In view of this, it is very difficult nowadays to invoke the rational criteria elaborated in earlier centuries to speak of the possibility of a “just war”. Never again war!” (Francis 2020, no. 258).

Furthermore, Francis insists that political discernment in these contexts must begin by attending the reality of those who suffer: “Let us hear the true stories of these victims of violence, look at reality through their eyes, and listen with an open heart to the stories they tell” (Francis 2020, no. 261). This raises important theological and ethical questions. Does this priority on the suffering of victims constitute a new criterion for Christian political discernment? Does it change or supersede the just war doctrine? Is legitimate defense, from a Christian perspective, still admissible in the current context of massive military power? If war is not a solution, what, then, is the Christian response when faced with ongoing violence against innocent people, especially when attempts to negotiate have systematically failed and the lives of victims cry out for an urgent response? What is the ethical Christian imperative—if there is one—in these circumstances?

This article analyzes Ignacio Ellacuría’s political discernment during the period of violence and war in El Salvador between 1969 and 1989. It explores the complex nature of violence in a context of ongoing injustice. For Ellacuría, there was–and continues to be–a need to reflect on the meaning of violence and to identify the specific feature that distinguishes it from other destructive phenomena. The Jesuit philosopher and theologian of El Salvador understood the “Third World”—as it was often called—to occupy a privileged hermeneutical position with respect to this question, since “it is in that context that violence reveals its true nature. It is in the Third World that violence fully displays what is only hinted at in other areas of the world”–namely, its ambiguous character (Ellacuría 1976a, p. 167).1

This article contends that, rather than offering one answer for all situations, Ellacuría proposes and goes through a dynamic and nuanced process of discernment, grounded in a committed openness to the concrete historical reality, particularly the reality of the poor. In the context of violence, which in the strict sense, for Ellacuría, signifies ongoing injustice, political responses should not be conceived in absolute and abstract terms. Instead, they must emerge from the possibilities that arise in each historical reality, giving priority for the voices of the poor and those who suffer as the fundamental cornerstone for political discernment. The critical reflection that follows focuses on the hope of viable political discernment from within the current crisis. Ellacuría’s commitment to the historical reality of El Salvador is inseparable from his ongoing political discernment. He realizes that in limit situations, humanity is confronted with its own misery, and that viable options are not simply limited to legal or ethical frames but arise primarily from a deep engagement with the reality, bearing its weight by responding to the voices of the poor and of those who are suffering.

2. El Salvador, 1969–1989: Violence and Its Meanings

The Church is clear about Christians’ responsibility to work toward a path of peace. But how can this ideal be actualized in a context of evident and prolonged injustice? The roots of violence are complex, and any response to these questions has to be historically grounded. Terms such as violence, force, revolution or even resistance are often used interchangeably, though carrying different meanings and referring to distinct situations. This can be misleading. The confusion is not merely semantic; it is also perspectival, impacting the way we perceive and respond to reality. Our frames are not immune to our cultural and social biases that set the boundaries for how we of see and interpret the concrete reality (Butler 2016, p. 8). According to Ellacuría and the reality of El Salvador and other countries of the Global South, violence has a complex and ambiguous character that demands serious reflection; one cannot stay at the superficial level of the ethical discussion about violence. What do we mean by violence? What is the specific feature that distinguishes it from other forms of coercive force? What is about violence that makes it so repudiable? In this section, I analyze the meanings of violence in light of Ellacuría’s reflections between the years of 1969 and 1989.

2.1. The Conflict and War with Honduras

The long-standing distrust between El Salvador and Honduras had intensified, culminating in the so-called “Soccer War” in July 1969. Eduardo Galeano, a Uruguayan journalist and the author of Open Veins of Latin America (1971), summarized the situation in Soccer in Sun and Shadow:

“In 1969 war broke out between Honduras and El Salvador, two small and very poor Central American countries that for more than a century had been accumulating reasons to distrust each other. Each had always served as the magical explanation for the other’s problems. Hondurans don’t have work? Because Salvadorans come and take their jobs. Salvadorans are hungry? Because Hondurans mistreat them. Each country believed their neighbor was the enemy, and the incessant military dictatorships of each did all they could to perpetuate the error”

(Galeano 1998, p. 130).

Throughout the twentieth century, impoverished Salvadoran farmers migrated from their small, densely populated country to neighboring Honduras in search of land and better opportunities. By the 1960s, approximately 300,000 Salvadorans were living in Honduras. Honduran peasants, already struggling to secure land and resources, perceived Salvadoran migrants as the ones to blame for their worsening conditions. Growing tensions led the Honduran government to implement agrarian reform laws that culminated in mass deportations and widespread human rights abuses, including persecution and killings of Salvadorans. The sudden influx of deportees overwhelmed the Salvadoran government under President Fidel Sánchez Hernández, while Salvadoran landowners, dissatisfied with the return of migrant farmers, began advocating for military action. These pressures erupted into the brief but devastating “100-Hour Soccer War,” following a series of contentious World Cup qualifying matches between the two nations, resulting in approximately 4000 deaths.

2.1.1. Limit Situation

Ellacuría addressed this conflict not simply as an ethical question or a problem of legitimate defense but as a concrete example of what Karl Jaspers described as a “limit situation,” where moral and legal norms are insufficient to address extreme injustice (Ellacuría 1969a, pp. 506, 509). The concept of limit situation coined by Jaspers describes a situation in which it is no longer possible to live without struggle and suffering (Jaspers 1970, p. 178). For Ellacuría, the deportation and persecution of Salvadorans in Honduras represented a limit situation. Under the legal protection of an unjust law that authorized the deportation of thousands of Salvadorans, their fundamental human rights—such as the right to life, security, and work—were systematically violated. This was a period in which the conflict reached a “total crisis,” making intervention necessary to protect those who were being persecuted.

The situation of violence in Honduras was, for Ellacuría, beyond conventional ethical or legal debates about the legitimacy of the use of force as framed by just war reasoning. He argued that such critical situation called for an alternative framework of understanding. Drawing on his reading of Jaspers and H. Thielicke, he identified four aspects that characterize a limit-situation: (1) it is impossible not to act; (2) all possible solutions are morally flawed; (3) once caught in such situation, people are subjected to norms that escape their control; (4) it is easy to lose rational clarity and the right moral disposition when the situation drags on and becomes an objectification of evil. On the one hand, these aspects absolve one of personal responsibility; on the other hand, they can lead to the hardening of the heart and dehumanization of those involved.

The limit situation denounces what has become intolerable: the unjust situation “has entered into crisis. So much in crisis that, with an urgent solution needed, all available means are bad.” (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 512).2 In the face of a limit situation, all offered solutions are not willed and, as it was already mentioned, it is easy to lose clarity in the face of circumstances that have become the materialization of evil. In this context, it becomes impossible not to act. One is confronted by a conflict of values, which makes one guilty in one way or another. In these extreme circumstances, ethical judgment is suspended, not annulled. Reality seems to demand something contrary to what is morally right, such that moral norms enter into conflict, and any choice inevitably leads to guilt. The ethical cannot be fulfilled. As Ellacuría claims, this is the ‘tragedy’ of the limit situation which does not absolve one from guilt (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 513). The question remains: how to act within this ethical suspension?

2.1.2. Law and Justice

Limit situations confront us with the finitude of the human condition, the power of evil, and the reality of sin. As Ellacuría observed: “The limit situation, precisely because it puts the one who faces it under ultimate tension, reveals, for that reason, something that, in its opacity, seemed incomprehensible” (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 512).3 It denounces the injustice of a situation that has reached its limit.

The conflict between Honduras and El Salvador during the 1960s illustrates how violence can emerge out of a contradiction between law and justice. Law does not equal justice. Ellacuría distinguished between law and justice, arguing that legal frameworks often fail to address structural violence. In the Honduran-Salvadoran conflict, both the legal system, controlled by the political power, and the nationalism ideal enabled persecution rather than the protection of fundamental human rights. The principle of state sovereignty was preventing intervention of a foreign State to put an end to those crimes. If this principle is treated as absolute, as Ellacuría criticized, would not it make sense to apply it retroactively throughout the history of the Americas? (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 516)

In the shadow of an apparently stable order, law can be used to disqualify and deauthorize any form of dissent or even to legitimatize acts of injustice. In other words, law can be used to serve political purposes. It is not the rule of a ‘higher order’ but often the result of the power dynamics at a given time and space, and, sometimes, a legal instrument to negate and destroy the rights and lives of others. When institutions lose sight of equity and reduce themselves to normative apparatuses, they risk creating insolvable conflicts that often end in violence.4 Justice must remain the ultimate appeal in order to change laws that promote or create injustice (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 507).

As a result, it is important to critically examine claims of legal sovereignty, particularly when they are used to uplift one’s claim regarding the (mis/)use of force. As Ellacuría noted, if the use of force outside the law faces the charge of violence, the use of force inside the law needs to come to terms with the charge of abuse of power:

“Power—whether political, economic, or religious—paradoxically has the least justification for employing violent methods with repressive nature. This is partly because it has many indirect means at its disposal which, though perhaps less immediately effective, help to avoid one of the gravest and easiest sins to commit: the abuse of power”

(Ellacuría 1969b, p. 284).5

The law alone cannot guarantee justice; in fact, it can even oppose it. Thus, the exercise of political discernment in the pursuit of justice requires challenging unjust legislation, resisting political persecution, and denouncing false propaganda.

2.1.3. Violence as a Pluriform Reality

For Ellacuría, the problem of violence was complex and required more than simply finding a legal or ethical response. The conflict between El Salvador and Honduras had renewed the question of violence (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 505). According to Ellacuría, it was crucial to move beyond the superficial debate about means and ends and to begin a critical recognition of the dangerous ambiguity of violence and its multiple forms. For Ellacuría, violence is a pluriform reality, in which certain forms of violence are more evil than others. He differentiated between two forms of violence: the first one is less visible, systemic, and rooted in injustice. “It is presented as injustice, and it is immersed in the mystery of iniquity” (Ellacuría 1969a, p. 170). The Medellín conference (1968) called this form of injustice “institutionalized violence” (Latin American Bishops Conference 1970, pp. 110–12). It was the gravest form of violence not only because it operated beneath the appearance of legality, but also because it oppressed popular majorities through manipulation of public opinion and control of institutions. It is called “violent” because it prevented people from making use of their rights, keeping them captive within an oppressive system; it is called “institutionalized” because it pervaded the structures of an entire society in their economic, political, and judicial dimensions (Ellacuría 1978b, p. 662). For Ellacuría, institutionalized violence constituted the “historicization”6 of sin in the concrete historical context of the so-called “Third World,” where poverty and oppression lay bare the true nature of violence–that is, injustice. The reality of El Salvador revealed both the sinful nature of violence and its “diabolic power,” which, as Ellacuría describes, “It feeds on what it destroys, and therefore could be understood as a true hellish fire” (Ellacuría 1969b, p. 277).7

The second is a derivative form and it emerges in response to structural violence when peaceful mechanisms fail over a reasonable period or when such responses would be counterproductive given the urgency and gravity of the circumstances. In other words, when the ideal situation stands in stark contrast to the harsh reality. Although morally ambiguous, this derivative form of violence can function as a tool to challenge oppressive systems. Ellacuría explored this ambiguity through the notion of aggressiveness. Drawing on Karl Rahner’s notion of concupiscence, he saw a parallel between aggressiveness and concupiscence. According to Rahner, concupiscence is neither evil nor sin, but a pre-ethical spontaneity that carries an inherent ambiguous character: it has the power to drive us into moral transgression or sin. In the same way, aggressiveness contains this dual potential: human beings have at their disposal a force that is indispensable for their life, but it can simultaneously become dangerous and destructive (Rahner 1961). By reading aggressiveness in light of Rahner’s theology, Ellacuría opened a hermeneutical space for the possibility of revolutionary violence—a tragic, yet perhaps necessary, response to historical sin.

Revolutionary violence is distinct from revenge; it emerges as a response to an intolerable situation shaped by the urgent cry for change. In this context, violence is derivative, being “symptomatic of an intolerable situation and a determined will for change” (Ellacuría 1976a, p. 193). The use of the term “revolutionary” refers to the fact that it tended to be considered an act outside of the law and, therefore, inherently violent. However, revolution does not necessarily imply violence. At this point, Ellacuría was primarily arguing for the need of a revolution in El Salvador that liberate people from unbearable injustice perpetuated by sinful structures shaping the country’s social and political life.

2.2. The Crisis Before the Civil War

The war with Honduras revealed the structural crises within El Salvador itself. Ellacuría highlighted not only the immediate consequences of the war but also what it exposed about the realities in both countries. The treatment of Salvadoran farmers in Honduras revealed deep injustices and human rights abuses, yet it also unveiled the unbearable and miserable conditions of poverty, land scarcity, and social inequality in El Salvador, conditions that ultimately had driven the migration movement to Honduras. This was a moment to raise awareness about the structural injustices in El Salvador.

In the face of people’s suffering caused by systemic injustice, a Christian response should prioritize the liberation of the majority from oppression since, as Ellacuría stated, a Christian “who refuses in practice to assume any responsibility toward the disinherited of the world is as guilty of heresy as someone who rejects a particle article of faith” (Ellacuría 1976a, p. 171). It is this commitment toward the disinherited of the earth that will ultimately transform history in light of the Reign of God. Pope Paul VI, during his apostolic journey to Latin America in 1968, addressed the peasants in Bogotá, noting: “Today the problem has worsened because you have become more aware of your needs and suffering, and you cannot tolerate the persistence of these conditions without applying a careful remedy” (Latin American Bishops Conference 1970, p. 107).8 Ellacuría interpreted these conditions as evidence that peace is not possible without justice. This moment marked a decisive stage, first, in the development of a social movement committed to solidarity with those who suffer and, second, in the awakening to the urgency to transform the structures that sustain oppression.

During the 1970s, Ellacuría and his Jesuit companions played an important role fostering dialog between the Church and civil society, as a fundamental step toward bringing about structural reforms and improving the conditions to the poor, through peaceful, just, and sustainable bottom-up processes. His work toward the transforming Salvadoran social and political life was often promoted through the Universidad Centroamericana (UCA).9 Ellacuría envisioned “a different kind of university,” one in dialog with society and committed to the promotion of justice.

At the same time, Ellacuría was a great supporter of the role of grassroot movements in transforming the political and social life in El Salvador (Ellacuría 1978a).10 During the seventies, partly influenced by liberation theology, comunidades eclesiales de base (CEB) and popular organizations, including rural and urban labor unions, and peasant groups, witnessed a significant expansion. The relationships between these two grassroots groups, namely between the ecclesial base communities and popular organizations, was not received unanimously within the Church. In his Carta Pastoral, Archbishop Romero saw this expansion as sign of the times challenging the Church to more fully realize its mission in history.11 At the same time, however, a group of bishops issued a Declaración opposing the Church’s support for or involvement with popular organizations (namely, the Federación Cristiana de Campesinos and the Unión de Trabajadores del Campo) on the grounds of their Marxist orientation (Declaración de cuatro Obispos de la Conferencia Episcopal 1978).

Ellacuría considered an error the push for the Church to distance itself from popular organizations in the face of what was happening (Ellacuría 1978b, p. 667). Ellacuría saw the interconnection between the ecclesial base communities and popular organizations as crucial to prevent the instrumentalization of popular majorities by partisan interests. As the American historian Jeffrey L. Gould, known for his work on Central America history and social movements, notes, the ecclesial base communities:

“often created the spiritual conditions for an individual or collective’s conversion towards social-economic and political action … They formed, as it were, the critical consciousness of the popular organizations. Their emphasis on personal transformation, inter-personal ethics, equality, and social solidarity allowed the CEBs, primarily through individual joint membership, to ensure that the popular organizations did not degenerate into mere appendages of political-military organizations or to lose their emancipatory value”

(Gould 2015, p. 292–93).

At the same time, these organizations played an important role helping the Church announce and make operative in history the good news of the Reign of God. In their work at the service of the poor–writes Ellacuría–popular organizations “evangelize the Church, proclaiming good news not only to the world but also to the Church itself” (Ellacuría 1978b, p. 669).12 In his famous words:

“If the Church is not persecuted in a similar way as popular organizations are—when these organizations are persecuted primarily for promoting the rights of the most vulnerable—it means that the Church’s commitment to them is less than that of the organizations. And this is not acceptable from a Christian standpoint”

(Ellacuría 1978b, p. 669).13

For Ellacuría, the work toward justice and peace done from the perspective of the poor and vulnerable constitutes a historical mediation of the Kingdom of God, even if that consciousness is not fully present (Ellacuría 1978b, p. 666). As a result, these social movements are understood primarily as a utopian principle rather than as an effective political power that rules the State. They should preserve their potential for inspiration and critique by avoiding any alignment with particular political or military forces. In this way, they will keep their power as a remainder of the call to pursue integral liberation, not merely liberation from political or economic oppression (Ellacuría 1978b, p. 670).14

By the late 1970s many of these organizations had connections with political-military groups. This was seen as problematic for Ellacuría as they could be easily instrumentalized to serve partisan interests. In fact, increasing sectarianism, especially in the Left sectors, was further reducing the space for dialog and negotiations. This situation was further aggravated by the new government, the Junta Revolucionaria de Gobierno (JRG), formed after the coup in October 1978, which was being unable to fulfill its promises of political and economic reforms, to end human rights abuses, and to democratize society. Romero and Ellacuría offered support to this government, seeing it as an important step to prevent a civil war. Meanwhile, the more revolutionary left, which had secured the support of popular organizations, grew increasingly impatient. They were critical and suspicious of Romero and Ellacuría’s support of the JRG. Dialog became impossible and it became clear to Ellacuría that the JRG would not be able to fulfill its promises or to separate itself from the entrenched military power. Civil war was imminent.

The violence affecting popular majorities before the civil war was, according to Ellacuría, the worst kind of violence, for it masked its violent nature by accusing its victims of being violent. This growing awareness, combined with the failures of structural reforms, shorten the hope for a peaceful path and, thereby, created the conditions of a limit situation and the possibility of revolutionary violence.

2.3. Civil War

Around 1980, a civil war began in El Salvador between a coalition of political and military groups united as the Frente15 and the Salvadoran government. It lasted twelve years until a peace accord was signed.

2.3.1. Revolutionary Violence at the Limit Situation

Institutionalized violence and the failure of peaceful attempts to achieve justice brought El Salvador to a limit situation. In this context, the use of revolutionary violence appeared as the possible way to end an intolerable situation of oppression. The armed force displayed by the FMLN had three different components designed to force the government into negotiations: to fight against the army; to destroy the economic infrastructures; and to incite popular insurrection (Ellacuría 1988, p. 476). This strategy had a clear political goal: to show that the end of the war could only end if the government was willing to negotiate with the FMLN. Does this make revolutionary violence morally justified? According to Ellacuría, it makes such violence provisionally understandable in light of the historical reality and as a limit situation. As already suggested, at the limit situation one experiences a kind of ethical suspension where it is impossible to escape the weight of guilt regardless of the decision one makes. Perhaps the most relevant question is whether revolutionary violence can be redemptive while simultaneously carrying a destructive power.

Revolutionary violence might be understandable, but it is never redemptive or ideal. At best, it represents a tragic necessity in a violent historical situation. While it can interrupt the historical sin by defeating those controlling unjust and violent social and political structures, it does not inherently carry the capacity to transform those structures that objectify sin or bring about a conversion of heart. The possibility of a new beginning depends, as reminded by Ellacuría, both on a new man and woman (Eph 4:24) and on a new earth (2 Pet 3:13)—that is, on the renewal of individuals and the transformation of the social and historical context, which necessarily includes the institutional dimension. These are two dimensions of the same reality that mutually reinforce each other (Ellacuría 1984, p. 31).

The FMLN’s strategy had, however, serious drawbacks: the violence it employed affected primarily and increasingly the Salvadoran population. In fact, the problem with revolutionary violence is that it can easily degenerate into mere violence. By the late 1980s, Ellacuría observed a rise in terrorist tactics used by the FMLN that were affecting and taking innocent lives.16 This escalation of violence affected Ellacuría’s approach to the problem of violence.

2.3.2. The Limits of Revolutionary Violence

During the following years, the misery and extreme poverty of the majority of the population worsened significantly. For Ellacuría, the unjust situation could no longer be attributed solely to structural problems; it had to take into consideration the impact of the ongoing war (Ellacuría 1988, p. 476). The Frente proved to be unable to change the pervasive injustice. The situation had entered a spiral of violence in which the actions of the Frente–kidnappings, executions of civilians, acts of terrorism–became indistinguishable from those carried out by the army. The violence being perpetrated was no longer revolutionary or representative of the interests of the people.

The civil war once again renewed the question of the use of violence. His confrontation with this reality deepened Ellacuría’s understanding of the real possibilities and limitations of violence. In other words, the destruction caused by the civil war led him to recognize the insufficiencies and dangers of revolutionary violence. In 1888, a year before his assassination, he wrote:

“Violence is the most irrational and unjust of means for resolving human conflicts, even if it is the most frequently used and, in some cases, becomes a necessary evil. If in El Salvador violence has not resolved the country’s problems but has, in fact, worsened them, it is time to plan a nonviolent way to put an end to violence”

(Ellacuría 1988, p. 482).17

Faced with a new context and the possibilities that closed and opened up, Ellacuría began to explore the best political ways to achieve justice for the people of El Salvador. As Gould described, “he was a tireless and often lone voice calling for a negotiated end to the civil war” (Gould 2015, p. 286).

What role does violence play in Ellacuría’s thought? How did Ellacuría’s position on the meaning and use of violence evolve throughout his political discernment from 1969 to 1989? Ellacuría’s position regarding the role of violence in El Salvador evolved throughout these twenty years. In the 1960s, he was open to the possibility of revolutionary violence; from 1969 until late 1970s, we notice in Ellacuría’s thought a move from a historical problematization of the ambiguous character of revolutionary violence to a growing openness toward a revolutionary transformation led by popular organizations without a warlike nature; by late 1970s, he saw war as an unescapable reality at a limit situation; by the mid-civil war period, he emphasized its limits. There is, however, a consistency in his thought: his view on the role of violence was not the result of ideology but always emerged as a response to the concrete historical situation. Ellacuría’s perspective on the meaning and use of violence becomes clearer when understood in light of the theological and philosophical category of historical reality. In fact, it is his commitment to la realidad histórica and to the liberation of the poor that form the foundation of his political discernment. For Ellacuría, la realidad histórica and the preferential option for the poor are not only ethical and political demands but fundamental theological categories. For him, history is the place where God chooses to fully reveal Godself, a revelation that is intrinsically aligned with the preferential option for the poor. It is this grounding that makes his contribution to the question of violence both nuanced and unique.

3. The Praxis of Discernment in Light of the Reality of El Salvador

According to Paul Ricoeur, wisdom literature is one of the five discursive forms of revelation that point to a particular mode of communication or to a particular experience of the ultimate reality. Wisdom discourse refers to those “limit-situations spoken of by Jaspers, those situations—including solitude, the fault, suffering, and death—where the misery and the grandeur of human beings confront each other” (Ricoeur 1980, pp. 85–86). In these contexts, wisdom inspires the sage not to seek, to avoid, or to deny suffering, but to discern a path of endurance without being crushed by the weight of suffering.

Ricoeur’s framework is particularly valuable for situating Ellacuría’s theological praxis of political discernment in El Salvador. In El Salvador, the pervasive injustice and suffering weighting on the lives of the poor called precisely for such discernment within limit situations. It is Ellacuría’s discernment throughout this time that is particularly compelling. In his evolving position regarding the problem of violence, we identify a praxis of wisdom discernment that neither avoids nor denies the suffering of the people but remains faithful to their liberation despite changing circumstances. Let us look more closely at how this discernment was carried out.

3.1. The Priority of the Historical Reality

At the core of Ellacuría’s discernment lies a process of de-ideologization. He insists that human affairs, especially those involving conflict, cannot be addressed merely from an ideological standpoint but must give priority to the historical situation and to the needs of the most vulnerable. This requires that every concept and situation, including violence, be analyzed within its concrete context in order to truly understand and confront its meaning. Ellacuría wrote:

“Precisely because of this priority of reality over meaning, no real change of meaning occurs without a real change of reality. To intend to do the former without attempting the latter falsifies intelligence and its primary function, even in the purely cognitive level. To believe that by changing one’s interpretations of things, one has changed the things themselves or at least one’s depth consciousness of his or her embeddedness in the world, represents a grave epistemological error and a profound ethical breakdown”

(Ellacuría 1975, p. 81).

The apprehension of meaning springs from one’s confrontation and engagement with reality. In relation to violence, the discernment of its meaning and role can only emerge when one engages reality “desde su caracter práxico” (from its praxical character).

The deeper one delves into a historical situation and embraces it, the more aware one becomes of the possibilities that each concrete situation opens up or forecloses. This apprehension of and confrontation with reality, which is an integral part of the structure of human intelligence, entails, according to Ellacuría, three interconnected dimensions: the first dimension, el hacerse cargo de la realidad (“becoming aware of the weight of reality”), corresponds to the intellective level of intelligence, which implies “being present in the reality of things” (Ellacuría 1975, p. 80). This demands honesty before reality and the truth of God’s presence in that reality whether that reality is one of grace or sin. It also requires not only attentiveness to reality, but also willingness to denounce whatever, covers, distorts, manipulates, or falsifies it (Alzate and Pinzon 2016, p. 139). A genuine encounter with reality does not allow space for neutrality; it calls for resistance against those forces that dehumanize women and men. The second dimension, el cargar con la realidad (“shouldering the weight of reality”) points to the ethical element of human intelligence. Attentiveness to reality necessarily prevents evasion and leads to a commitment “to take upon ourselves what things really are and what they really demand” (Ellacuría 1975, p. 80). Finally, el encargarse de la realidad (“taking charge of the weight of reality”) reflects the praxical character of intelligence. It is a call to concrete action aimed at the ongoing configuration of a society into one that is more humane and worthy to live in. Without this praxical dimension the process of knowing and comprehending reality is incomplete (Ellacuría 1975, pp. 81–83). As the systematic theologian Mary Catherine Hilkert notes, “reflection on what is genuinely human in history is possible only if human persons and communities are active in creating fragmentary expressions of more humane, just and livable communities and societies” (Hilkert 2020, p. 289).

3.2. The Preferential Option for the Poor

Ellacuría argues that the encounter with reality is the event in which the historical actualization of the salvific possibilities already given in Christ’s faithfulness to the Kingdom of God takes place. In the present time, not only as hearers but also as doers of the Word, human beings are called to actualize these possibilities insofar as they are offered in each concrete reality (Ellacuría 1976a, p. 14).

The verb actualizar (to actualize) plays a central role in Ellacuría’s historical soteriology. Building on Zubiri’s usage of the term, to actualize is not simply to update; it means:

“to give present reality to what is formally a historical possibility and, as such, (it) can be read in one way or another. What must be actualized, then, is what is given, but the reading and interpretation of what is given, the option for one part or other of what is given, depend on a historical present and on historical subjects. The historical actualization of the already given utopia arises especially from the intercession that is being given through the Spirit in history”

(Ellacuría 1993, p. 293).

It is precisely this openness and dynamism, both to the historical situation and the historical subjects, that enable the discernment of the possibilities offered by the Spirit of Christ in each present reality. Such discernment is neither arbitrary nor purely subjective; it has a relational character grounded in the encounter with reality. The actualization of the possibilities given through the Spirit of Christ always depends on a true encounter with reality. We do not encounter the Spirit of Christ apart from reality, nor do we truly encounter reality apart from the poor, who by their condition uncover that reality mostly clearly. For Ellacuría, the Spirit of Christ cannot be de-historicized; “the Spirit of Christ (…) is the Spirit of the historical Jesus,” even though it cannot be reduced to what Jesus’ life was (Ellacuría 1983, pp. 278–79). As a result, the historical presence of the Spirit cannot be experienced apart from the concrete historical reality. And as affirmed by Ellacuría, “it is in the poor that the greatest real presence of the historical Jesus is found and therefore the greatest capacity for salvation (or liberation)” (Ellacuría 1993, p. 303). This Christological emphasis deepens one awareness of God’s special concern with the poor and oppressed.

Given the situation of iniquity in El Salvador, which made Ellacuría profoundly aware of the historicization of sin, the poor become a principle of salvation for the entire world. They unveil the dynamics and structures of the “sin of the world” and bear its weight within the historical reality (cf. Matt 25:31–46). Simultaneously, they serve as “an operative principle of discernment” in the historical reality, summoning every Christian to be attentive, responsible, and responsive to the fundamental needs of the popular majorities so that their dignity as human beings and members of God’s people may be fully affirmed (Ellacuría 1993, p. 303).

4. Conclusions

“No one can honestly say that I am preaching the use of violence to combat violence” (Ellacuría 1976a, p. 227). Ellacuría’s words capture the complexity and the gravity with which he confronted the problem of violence in the historical reality of El Salvador. His life, testimony, as a Chirstian, a Salvadoran citizen, and rector of UCA, bear witness to his courageous engagement with the political, social, and theological implications of violence. For Ellacuría, the question of violence could not be dismissed through to a prior moral, legal, and theoretical condemnation or reduced to a simple means-ends justification. Rather, it required an ongoing discernment rooted in the historical reality and sustained by solidarity with the poor.

This commitment to the historical reality presupposes not only a process of de-ideologization but also an awareness of the interpretive frames through which one perceives and describes that reality. Although this latter is less explored in Ellacuría’s writings, his thought, especially with regard to the relation between law and justice, invites reflection on how our conceptual and normative frames shape not only perception but also ethical responses. Drawing in Talal Asad’s On Suicide Bombing, Judith Butler notes how we react differently to some forms of violence than others. Affect is affected by our frames. In other words, “norms work to give face and to efface. Accordingly, our capacity to respond with outrage, opposition, and critique will depend in part how the differential norm of the human is communicated through the visual and discursive frames” (Butler 2016, p. 77). The ways in which we understand, describe, and conceptualize social realities are already influenced by our categories and normative frames. What we feel and how we respond become conditioned by how we frame the world and human lives. Moral guilt and accountability tend to be forgotten when lives to whom we do not feel bounded are rendered invisible. Ellacuría’s insistence on engaging and confronting the concrete historical reality includes a call to denounce not only the social and political structures of sin, but also the frames that render suffering invisible to our perception.

Ellacuría also called our attention to the importance of distinguishing among different forms of violence. When injustice is absent, he preferred to speak of “coercive force,” since the issue here concerns the means being employed and not so much the nature of the act itself. However, when injustice is present, violence assumes its worst and most destructive sinful form as it is “bound up with the whole mystery of iniquity” (Ellacuría 1976a, p. 228). Hence, to claim that violence always generates more violence and, therefore, is always condemnable is imprecise. Conversely, to argue that revolutionary violence is always just is equally inadequate. These ideas proved ineffective in the Salvadoran context. A Christian response, Ellacuría argued, cannot indiscriminately condemn all forms of violence without first attending to its ambiguity and the concrete historical circumstances in which they arise. By refusing an indiscriminate and abstract condemnation of violence, Ellacuría does not legitimize revolutionary violence as such. Rather, he insists on the priority of a discernment historically grounded and attentive to the presence or absence of injustice.

From a theological standpoint, the Church has yet to articulate a fully mature position on the question of violence, capable of addressing its complexity and ambiguity, especially in contexts pressured by war and systemic injustice. Building on Ellacuría’s historical soteriology, a Christian response to such crises must begin with an honest apprehension of reality, viewed in light of the poor as a theological locus of salvation and as a fundamental cornerstone for political discernment. Through this encounter, the Spirit of Christ becomes manifest in a creative process that leads to an awareness of the available possibilities inherent in each historical moment and the paths to realizing them.

By way of concluding, this essay does not propose any universal response or solution; instead, it acknowledges Ellacuría’s contribution to the discussion of violence and political discernment. In my view, Ellacuría’s thought shifts the focus from ethical and legal debates over the legitimacy of war to a praxis of discernment oriented toward “just peace,” sought through an engagement with the concrete reality and in light of the perspective of the poor.18 For Ellacuría, in the face of the reality of El Salvador, just peace is a historical process of liberation in which the popular majorities and grassroots social movements play a crucial role, helping the Church to announce and make operative in history the good news of the Reign of God. Ellacuría offers a model of theological discernment that remains deeply relevant for the twenty-first century, showing how Christian praxis can engage critically with systemic injustice, support grassroots social movements, and respond ethically to democratic crises and structural oppression. For the Church in particularly, Ellacuría issues a profound theological and political challenge: to discern, within each historical situation, how to actualize the liberating possibilities of the Spirit of Christ without losing sight of the suffering of the poor, who remain the privileged locus of God’s salvific presence. Such discernment does not consist merely in accepting these theological presuppositions; it calls for a concrete alignment of one’s life with the pattern of Jesus’ life, which implies that each Christan has to work out the implications of these principles amidst their own concrete reality.