One relatively straightforward way in which academics could have a positive impact on global poverty is by putting people in a position to make better decisions about issues relevant to such poverty. Academics could do this by conducting appropriate kinds of research on those issues, and sharing what they have learned in accessible ways.

But aren't academics already doing this? In the case of many of those issues, I think the appropriate answer would be “Yes, to some extent, but they could do so much better.” In this article, I first discuss the academic research relevant to one important decision about an issue concerning global poverty. I argue that this research has been seriously deficient both in terms of quality and of quantity. Building on this discussion, I then formulate two questions that can be applied to any such decision, answers to which would indicate the quality of the input academics are currently providing. In cases where that input is deficient, and the decision in question an important one, I suggest that academics organise themselves in ways that will improve that input. I finish by briefly discussing how Academics Stand Against Poverty might help them do so.

As part of the roundtable, “Ethics and the Future of the Global Food System,” this essay examines how the key decisions within the global system of food production are shaped by the organization of the global political economy. The understanding of the global political economy follows standard definitions that focus on the dominant market practices and the institutional structures within which those practices are embedded. I identify examples of market practices and institutional policies that structurally impair the ability of states to secure the human rights of their citizens, and explain specific issues of structural injustice raised by each example. The conclusion provides a survey of a range of alternative solutions for transforming the global political economy and creating the conditions for a more just and ecologically sustainable food system. Ultimately, our conception of human rights and the mechanisms for their protection and enforcement must change in order to address the scale and gravity of problems affecting the future of agriculture and our ability to feed the world.

A basic premise of Confucianism rests in the intellectuals' responsibility to speak out against an oppressive government. This tradition continued well into the Maoist era, along with “the mandate from heaven,” which provided an additional fundamental right of the people to dispose of an unfair leadership. Why was it not until the mid-1980s that the intellectuals, the “democratic elite” of China, initiated a public dialogue on the necessity of “inalienable” rights in the Western sense? The reason may lie in the impact the events in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe had in inducing political reform in post-Mao China. The traditional Confucianist beliefs remained at the core of the emerging ideology. Despite Deng's crackdown in Tiananmen Square, the “sprouts” continue to reappear from time to time, and the author predicts that they will be stronger with each comeback.

Russell probes Morgenthau's realist ethics and the underpinnings of the nuclear threat in a technologically evolving modern world with increasingly obsolescent national boundaries. In the classic political question of a ‘just war,’ Russell argues that Morgenthau was concerned with dilemmas created by the very successes of science and the resulting decay of traditional Western thinking, where scientific reason was prevailing over social reason. Morgenthau's gloomy emphasis on “man's uncertain moral destiny in the nuclear era”-and, particularly, on the uniquely individualistic perceptions of scientific advancements at a time when nations seek collective security against the nuclear threat-highlights his confidence in the strong intellectual, moral and spiritual power of man. He is skeptical in the endurance of the morally disintegrating “scientific man.” Morgenthau analyzes man's new understanding of “life” and “death” and examines the new scientist, who creates “a new nature out of his knowledge of the forces of nature,” and the new statesman, who creates “a new society out of his knowledge of the nature of man.” Morgenthau sees politics as an art, not a science, and “what is required for its mastery is not the rationality of the engineer but the wisdom and moral strength of the statesman.”

Although humanitarian intervention is never politically neutral, Mapel maintains that this point can be overdrawn. Arguing that humanitarian agencies cannot always actively pursue political agendas, Mapel asserts that the objectives of such missions must be determined on a case-by-case basis. Pushing the issue a step further, he argues that in deciding whether there is an obligation to intervene, the nature of the conflict, the costs and risks of intervention, and other factors must all be taken into consideration. Mapel concludes in support of Winston's call for a standing UN military force for humanitarian interventions but notes that debates over the objectives of interventions and the nature of justice in complex situations remain obstacles to the establishment of such a force.

As part of the roundtable, “Moral Injury, Trauma, and War,” this essay explores the relationship between revisionist just war theory and moral injury. It proceeds in four sections. First, it offers a brief overview of the just war tradition, focusing on traditionalist and revisionist accounts, respectively. Next, it explores the relationship between moral injury and armed conflict. Then, it explores the links between moral injury and revisionist accounts of just war theory. Finally, by way of conclusion, the essay signals two potential complementary paths forward that future research could use to clarify the revisionist position and its link with moral injury.