Why was I interested in interviewing James? He is a British political theorist and Professor of Politics at the University of Manchester whose work focuses on the ethics of global peace and security. His research lies at the intersection of political philosophy and international relations, particularly on issues such as just war theory, humanitarian intervention, the Responsibility to Protect (R2P), sanctions, and alternatives to military force. James has authored several influential books with Oxford University Press—including Humanitarian Intervention and the Responsibility to Protect (2010), The Morality of Private War (2014), and The Alternatives to War (2018)—and has published widely in leading journals such as International Studies Quarterly and the Journal of Political Philosophy. His scholarship examines when states have moral duties to act in response to mass atrocities and how political actors should balance ethical principles with the realities of global politics.

This interview is particularly interesting because it connects abstract political theory with real-world ethical dilemmas in politics, war, and global responsibility. Rather than presenting moral philosophy as a purely academic exercise, James reflects on how ethical ideas influence policy debates—from humanitarian intervention to authoritarianism—and how scholars must think carefully about the real-world consequences of their arguments. The conversation also offers an unusually candid look at teaching political theory today: how students grapple with moral compromise, how political role models shape civic engagement, and why critical thinking remains essential in an age of populism, misinformation, and AI. By blending personal reflection with broader philosophical questions, the interview illustrates how political theory can illuminate both the practice of politics and the responsibilities of citizens in a complex global world.

Here’s our exchange:

Where are you originally from, and what aspects of your childhood there most shaped who you are today?

I grew up in a town on the edge of South London, part of the sprawl of 1930s housing that characterises much of the region. The area was somewhat humdrum and, like much of South London, marked by inequality and racial tension in the 1980s and 1990s. Many of my friends from primary and secondary school endured vile racist abuse and lived in very cramped, multi-generational households in rundown housing—often on estates that have since been demolished. Witnessing these experiences up close left a lasting impression on me, shaping an enduring awareness of injustice as well as a deeper appreciation of the relative privilege I had.

How would you describe your family environment growing up, and who were the most influential figures in your early life?

I grew up with my parents and two older siblings. We struggled financially for many years. My father, who had trained as a microbiologist, left his job to start his own business in transport journalism, but the business struggled to generate much income. My mother taught evening classes at the local college to help make ends meet, and her strong focus on education pushed all three of us to pursue academic paths (my sister was recently appointed the first Professor of Nursing at Imperial).

I spent much more time with my father than many children my age did with theirs, and he was—and remains—deeply committed to supporting charities and helping others. I also remember numerous family discussions about the Khmer Rouge genocide, as well as watching the films The Killing Fields and The Mission.

Were there particular family or cultural traditions that played a lasting role in shaping your values or worldview?

My grandfather was a Methodist minister. Although we were not a religious family—I stopped believing around the age of 10 or 11 and soon discovered that my parents also had significant doubts—we were nonetheless raised with core values centred on confronting injustice and caring for the suffering of others. These values were strongly influenced by my grandfather.

I also remember long discussions at my grandfather’s house about national and international politics, involving my father, his brothers, and later my older brother. These values, along with an interest in national and international politics and the challenge of addressing injustice, have continued to motivate me and other members of my family.

What initially drew you to the field you chose to study, and was there a moment when you realized it was the right path for you?

I chose to study Politics, though I was initially interested primarily in international politics. In my late teens I read The Death of Yugoslavia, about the breakdown of Yugoslavia in the 1990s, which sparked a strong interest in international conflict. I also developed a particular interest in sub-Saharan Africa and backpacked around East Africa on my own for two months when I was 18.

At first, I was very unsure whether I had chosen the right field, since I had focused mainly on the sciences at school. But my confidence grew once I began taking modules in political theory. I had not realised that political theory would form part of the degree, but I found that I greatly enjoyed the analytical and critical thinking involved.

At what age did you begin working, and what did your first job teach you about responsibility or independence?

I had various part-time jobs, but the main one was in a high-street shop called Woolworths, where I worked between the ages of 17 and 20. I was initially hired as temporary staff for Christmas but was then kept on.

On one occasion I pretended to be sick so I could attend a major international football match between Scotland and England. It soon became obvious where I was—I had phoned in from the train—and I was subjected to disciplinary procedures. I felt that I had undermined my responsibility to my line manager, who had treated me very well beforehand and later defended me strongly when Woolworths was considering dismissing me. Since then, I have tried to make sure that I never let down people who have shown loyalty and trust in me.

How would you describe your current professional role, and what aspects of it do you find most meaningful?

I am a Professor of Politics. Despite the challenges currently facing the higher education sector, I enjoy my role very much, particularly because it allows a great deal of independence in pursuing my research interests. In many ways, I would want to read the books I work on—about war, intervention, authoritarianism, atrocities, and political philosophy—even if I did not have this job.

One of the most rewarding aspects of the role is teaching, especially our third-year undergraduates, who are generally motivated, perceptive, and very bright. Although it can be tempting to complain about students, it is a privilege to help educate and work with them, many of whom will go on to become leaders in their fields. They want to understand the world more deeply: the challenges we face, the possible responses, and the complexities surrounding them. Seeing them engage with the ideas we discuss and apply these arguments themselves is something I miss when I am not teaching.

How has your research on the ethics of war, intervention, and responsibility reshaped conventional assumptions about when political action becomes morally obligatory rather than merely permissible?

It is often assumed that states should have a free choice about whether to act when mass atrocities occur, focusing mainly on whether their interests are involved. I have sought to challenge this assumption by writing about responsibilities to intervene—or to take other forms of action—including which agents hold these responsibilities and the reasons they do so.

This work has helped develop ideas found in the doctrine of the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) and, more recently, in emerging norms around mass atrocity prevention. In doing so, it provides a much firmer basis for the claim that action should be taken to address atrocities covered by these frameworks.

To what extent does your work challenge the idea that political morality can remain neutral in the face of large-scale injustice?

Much of my work emphasises that standing by in the face of mass atrocities is morally impermissible. I argue that it is wrong to allow fellow human beings to suffer when something can be done—there are humanitarian duties to act even beyond one’s own borders. Moreover, previous and ongoing injustices by powerful Western and non-Western actors reinforce and magnify these responsibilities.

My most recent work also emphasises the responsibility to confront rising global authoritarianism. Authoritarianism not only undermines democracy worldwide, but also exacerbates many of the challenges the world faces, including those related to human rights, climate change, global poverty, and disease. Much of the current analysis of populism and authoritarianism focuses on their domestic effects—on democracy within individual countries. What is often overlooked are the wider global consequences, particularly for humanitarianism and human rights, especially for the most vulnerable. One clear manifestation of this has been the severe weakening of the humanitarian aid system over the past two years.

Do you see students’ engagement with politics today as driven more by moral outrage than by sustained ethical reasoning, and how does that affect how you teach political theory?

Some students are motivated by moral outrage, although this is still preferable to the apathy that often predominated in the past. In my teaching, I try to present the complex ethical and political arguments on both sides of contentious issues, emphasising that many problems are genuinely difficult and morally vexing.

I often organise my teaching around cases where there are no clear ethical answers—for example, whether sanctions should be imposed despite claims that they are ineffective and can have damaging humanitarian consequences, or whether states should condemn serious human rights violations abroad when they themselves have committed such violations.

Has the polarization of contemporary politics made students more ethically engaged or more reluctant to defend unpopular but principled positions?

Students today are generally more ethically engaged than in the past, and many are drawn to positions that are socially further to the left than those of previous generations (though not always economically). Most express strong opposition to leading populist figures and see their actions as the opposite of what should be done politically. At the same time, I try to ensure that my classes remain open and welcoming to students of all political persuasions.

How do you encourage students to grapple seriously with moral compromise rather than seeking ethically “pure” political stances?

Students are sometimes attracted to absolutist positions and may dismiss questions about the effectiveness of policies addressing human rights violations or atrocities as merely technical matters. I try to show them that ethical theory suggests otherwise: the likely consequences of actions matter for almost all ethical frameworks, including those that are deontological.

As a result, we should consider the expected outcomes for morally significant goals—such as the protection of human rights—alongside more intrinsic or “pure” moral considerations. When viewed in this way, compromise can sometimes represent the most ethically defensible solution, all things considered.

In what ways does your research complicate the tendency to view intervention, activism, or resistance as inherently virtuous?

In my research, I argue that most wars and military interventions have been morally unjustified for a range of reasons, including their likely disproportionality and their lack of support among the populations they are intended to help. This view is widely shared among scholars in my field.

My more distinctive contribution has been through my work on alternatives to war. I examine the range of measures that may be used in place of military intervention, including sanctions, diplomacy, nonviolent resistance, and positive incentives. My work shows that all of these measures—often seen as morally cleaner alternatives—raise difficult ethical challenges, from causing unintended harms to serving as a fig leaf for avoiding more robust action. None is a panacea, even if, in some circumstances, they may be more justified than military intervention.

Are students today more interested in judging political actors than in imagining themselves as morally responsible agents within politics?

Some students hold strong, fixed views about political figures, particularly those on the centre-left who are seen as compromising too readily. In my teaching, we often use role-play scenarios in which students consider how they would act in particular positions—for example, whether they would undertake a military intervention, contribute to a peacekeeping mission, or offer incentives that might help resolve a crisis but would also financially and politically reward those responsible for abuses.

Although a few students believe that such roles should involve simply weighing interests and pursuing realpolitik rather than considering moral arguments, most are willing to engage seriously with the ethical dilemmas these scenarios present. Very few adopt absolutist positions; instead, they tend to think carefully about both the likely consequences and the relevant moral principles.