CLAUSEWITZ - ON WAR - I. NATURE OF WAR - Carl von Clausewitz (1873) - HQ Full Book - SECRETS OF POWER: Masters of Politics, Strategy & War

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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Karl Vaughan Klausowitz on War, eighteen seventy three, Book one,
On the Nature of War, Chapter one, What is war?
One introduction. We propose to consider first the single elements
of our subject, then each branch or part, and last
of all the whole in all its relations. Therefore, to

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advance from the simple to the complex. But it is
necessary for us to commence with a glance at the
nature of the whole, because it is particularly necessary that
in the consideration of any of the parts, their relation
to the whole should be kept constantly. In View two definition,
we shall not enter into any of the abstruse definitions
of war used by publicists. We shall keep to the

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element of the thing itself. To a duel, war is
nothing but a duel on an extensive scale. If we
would conceive as a unit the countless number of duels
which make up a war, we shall do so best
by supposing to ourselves two wrestlers. Each strives by physical
force to compel the other to submit to his will.
Each endeavors to throw his adversary and thus render him

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incapable of further resistance. War, therefore, is an act of
violence intended to compel our opponent to fulfill our will,
violence arms itself with the inventions of art and science.
In order to contend against violence, self imposed restrictions, almost
imperceptible and hardly worth mentioning termed usages of international law

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accompany it without essentially impairing its power. Violence, that is
to say, physical force, for there is no moral force
without the conception of states, and law is therefore the means.
The compulsory submission of the enemy to our will is
the ultimate object. In order to attain this object fully,
the enemy must be disarmed, and disarmament becomes therefore the

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immediate object of hostilities. In theory, it takes the place
of the final object and puts it aside as something
we can eliminate from our calculations free utmost use of force. Now,
philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skillful method of
disarming in overcoming an enemy without causing great bloodshed, and

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that this is the proper tendency of the art of war.
However plausible this may appear, still it is an error
which must be extirpated, For in such dangerous things as war,
the errors which proceed from a spirit of benevolence are
the worst. As the use of physical power to the
utmost extent by no means excludes the co operation of
the intelligence. It follows that he who uses force unsparingly

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without reference to the bloodshed involved, must obtain a superiority
if his adversary uses less vigor in its application. The
former then dictates the law to the latter, and both
proceed to extremities to which the only limitations are those
imposed by the amount of counteracting force on each side.
This is the way in which the matter must be viewed,

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and it is to no purpose. It is even against
one's own interest to turn away from the consideration of
the real nature of the affair, because the horror of
its elements excites repugnance. If the wars of civilized people
are less cruel and destructive than those of savages, the
difference arises from the social condition, both of states in
themselves and in their relations to each other. Out of

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this social condition and its relations, war arises, and by it.
War is subjected to conditions, is controlled and modified. But
these things do not belong to war itself. They are
only given conditions. And to introduce into the philosophy of
war itself a principle of moderation would be an absurdity.
Two motives lead men to war, instinctive hostility and hostile intention.

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In our definition of war, we have chosen as its
characteristic the latter of these elements, because it is the
most general. It is impossible to conceive the passion of
hatred of the wildest description bordering on mere instinct, without
combining with it the idea of other hostile intention. On
the other hand, hostile intentions may often exist without being

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accompanied by any or at all events, by any extreme
hostility of feeling. Amongst Savage's views emanating from the feelings
amongst civilized nations, those emanating from the understanding have the predominance.
But this difference arises from attendant circumstances, existing institutions, and
see and therefore is not to be found necessarily in

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all cases, although it prevails in the majority. In short,
even the most civilized nations may burn with passionate hatred
of each other. We may see from this what a
fallacy it would be to refer the war of a
civilized nation entirely to an intelligent act on the part
of the government, and to imagine it as continually freeing
itself more and more from all feeling of passion, in

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such a way that at last the physical masses of
combatants would no longer be required. In reality, their mere
relations would suffice a kind of algebraic action. Theory was
beginning to drift in this direction until the facts of
the last war Asterisk taught it better. If war is
an act of force, it belongs necessarily also to the feelings.

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If it does not originate in the feelings, it reacts
more or less upon them, and the extent of this
reaction depends not on the degree of civilization, but upon
the importance and duration of the interests involved. Therefore, if
we find civilized nations do not put their prisoners to death,
do not devastate towns and countries, this is because their

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intelligence exercises greater influence on their mode of carrying on war,
and has taught them more effectual means of applying force
than these rude acts of mere instinct. The invention of
gunpowder the constant progress of improvements in the construction of
firearms are sufficient proofs that the tendency to destroy the adversary,
which lies at the bottom of the conception of war

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is in no way changed or modified through the progress
of civilisation. We therefore repeat our proposition that war is
an act of violence pushed to its utmost bounds. As
one side dictates the law to the other, there arises
a sort of reciprocal action which logically must lead to
an extreme. This is the first reciprocal action, and the

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first extreme with which we meet. First reciprocal action for
the aim is to disarm the enemy. We have already
said that the aim of all action in war is
to disarm the enemy, and we shall now show that this,
theoretically at least is indispensable. If our opponent is to
be made to comply with our will, we must place

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him in a situation which is more oppressive to him
than the sacrifice which we demand. But the disadvantages of
this position must naturally not be of a transitory nature,
at least in appearance. Otherwise the enemy, instead of yielding,
will hold out in the prospect of a change for
the better. Every change in this position which is produced
by a continuation of the wars, should therefore be a

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change for the worse. The worst condition in which a
belligerent can be placed is that of being completely disarmed.
If therefore, the enemy is to be reduced to submission
by an act of war, he must either be positively
disarmed or placed in such a position that he is
threatened with it. From this, it follows that the disarming
or overthrow of the enemy, whichever we call it, must

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always be the aim of warfare. Now, war is always
the shock of two hostile bodies in collision, not the
action of a living power upon an inanimate mass, because
an absolute state of endurance would not be making war. Therefore,
what we have just said as to the aim of
action in war applies to both parties. Here, then, is

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another case of reciprocal action. As long as the enemy
is not defeated, he may defeat me. Then I shall
be no longer my own master. He will dictate the
law to me as I did to him. This is
the second reciprocal action, and leads to a second extreme
second reciprocal action five utmost exertion of powers. If we

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desire to defeat the enemy, we must proportion our efforts
to his powers of resistance. This is expressed by the
product of two factors which cannot be separated, namely, the
sum of available means and the strength of the will.
The sum of the available means may be estimated in
a measure as it depends, although not entirely upon numbers.

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But the strength of volition is more difficult to determine
and can only be estimated to a certain extent by
the strength of the motives. Granted, we have obtained in
this way an approximation to the strength of the power
to be contended with. We can then take a review
of our own means and either increase them so as
to obtain a preponderance, or, in case we have not
the resources to effect this, than do our best by

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increasing our means as far as possible. But the adversary
does the same. Therefore, there is a new mutual enhancement which,
in pure conception, must create a fresh effort towards an extreme.
This is the third case of reciprocal action, and a
third extreme with which we meet third reciprocal action six

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modification in the reality. Thus, reasoning in the abstract, the
mind cannot stop short of an extreme, because it has
to deal with an extreme with a conflict of forces
left to themselves and obeying no other but their own
inner laws. If we should seek to deduce from the
pure conception of war an absolute point for the aim
which we shall propose and for the means which we

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shall apply. This constant reciprocal action would involve us in extremes,
which would be nothing but a play of ideas produced
by an almost invisible train of logical subtleties. If adhering
closely to the absolute, we try to avoid all difficulties
by a stroke of the pen and insist with logical
strictness that in every case the extreme must be the object,

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and the utmost effort must be exerted in that direction.
Such a stroke of the pen would be a mere
paper law, not by any means adapted to the real world.
Even supposing this extreme tension of forces was an absolute
which could easily be ascertained, still we must admit that
the human mind would hardly submit itself to this kind
of logical chimera. There would be in many cases an

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unnecessary waste of power, which would be in opposition to
other principles of state craft. An effort of will would
be required disproportioned to the proposed object, which therefore it
would be impossible to realize, for the human will does
not derive its impulse from logical subtleties. But everything takes
a different shape when we pass from abstractions to reality.

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In the former, everything must be subject to optimism, and
we must imagine the one side as well as the other,
striving after perfection and even attaining it. Will this ever
take place in reality? It will if one war becomes
a completely isolated act which arises suddenly and is in
no way connected with the previous history of the combatant states.

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Two if it is limited to a single solution or
to several simultaneous solutions. Three if it contains within itself
the solution perfect and complete, free from any reaction upon it,
through a calculation beforehand of the political situation which will
follow from it. Seven, War is never an isolated act.

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With regard to the first point. Neither of the two
opponents is an abstract person to the other, not even
as regards that factor in the sum of resistance, which
does not depend on objective things viz. The will. This
will is not an entirely unknown quantity. It indicates what
it will be tomorrow by what it is today. War
does not spring up quite suddenly. It does not spread

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to the full in a moment Each of the two
opponents can therefore form an opinion of the other in
a great measure from what he is and what he does,
instead of judging of him according to what he strictly
speaking should be or should do. But now man, with
his incomplete organization, is always below the line of absolute perfection,
and thus these deficiencies, having an influence on both sides,

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become a modifying principle. Eight. War does not consist of
a single instantaneous blow. The second point gives rise to
the following considerations. If war ended in a single solution,
or a number of simultaneous ones, then naturally all the
preparations for the same would have a tendency to the extreme,

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for an omission could not in any way be repaired.
The utmost then that the world of reality could furnish
as a guide for us would be the preparations of
the enemy, as far as they are known to us.
All the rest would fall into the domain of the abstract.
But if the result is made up from several successive acts,
then naturally that which precedes with all its phases may

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be taken as a measure for that which will follow.
And in this manner, the world of reality again takes
the place of the abstract, and thus modifies the effort
towards the extreme. Yet every war would necessarily resolve itself
into a single solution or a sum of simultaneous results,
if all the means required for the struggle were raised
at once, or could be at once raised for as

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one adverse result necessarily diminishes the means. Then if all
the means have been applied in the first, a second
cannot properly be supposed. All hostile acts which might follow
would belong essentially to the first, and form in reality
only its duration. But we have already seen that even
in the preparation for wore the real worlds steps into

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the place of mere abstract conception, a material standard, into
the place of the hypotheses of an extreme. That therefore,
in that way both parties, by the influence of the
mutual reaction, remain below the line of extreme effort, and
therefore all forces are not at once brought forward. It
lies also in the nature of these forces and their application,

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that they cannot all be brought into activity at the
same time. These forces are the armies actually on foot,
the country, with its superficial extent and its population and
the allies. In point of fact, the country, with its
superficial area and the population, besides being the source of
all military force, constitutes in itself an integral part of

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the efficient quantities in war, providing either the theatre of war
or exercising a considerable influence on the same. Now, it
is possible to bring all the movable military forces of
a country into operation at once, but not all fortresses, rivers, mountains,
people and seda. In short, not the whole country, unless

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it is so small that it may be completely embraced
by the first act of the war. Further, the co
operation of allies does not depend on the will of
the belligerents, and from the nature of the political relations
of states to each other, this co operation is frequently
not afforded until after the war has commenced, or it
may be increased to restore the balance of power. That

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this part of the means of resistance, which cannot av
once be brought into activity in many cases, is a
much greater part of the whole than might at first
be supposed, and that it often restores the balance of power.
Seriously affected by the great force of the first decision
will be more fully shown hereafter here it is sufficient
to show that a complete concentration of all available means

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in a moment of time is contradictory to the nature
of war. Now, this in itself furnishes no ground for
relaxing our efforts to accumulate strength to gain the first result,
because an unfavorable issue is always a disadvantage to which
no one would purposely expose himself, and also because the
first decision, although not the only one, still will have

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the more influence on subsequent events, the greater it is
in itself. But the possibility of gaining a later result
causes men to take refuge in that expectation, owing to
the repugnance in the human mind to making excessive efforts.
And therefore forces are not concentrated and measures are not
taken for the first decision. With that energy which would
otherwise be used, whatever one belligerent omits from weakness becomes

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to the other a real objective ground for limiting his
own efforts. And thus again, through this reciprocal action, extreme
tendencies are brought down to efforts on a limited scale. Nine,
the result in war is never absolute. Lastly, even the
final decision of a whole war is not always to
be regarded as absolute. The conquered state often sees in

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it only a passing evil, which may be repaired in
after times by means of political combinations. How much this
must modify the degree of tension and the vigor of
the efforts made is evident in itself. Ten the probabilities
of real life take the place of the conceptions of
the extreme and the absolute. In this manner, the whole

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act of war is removed from the rigorous law of
forces exerted to the utmost. If the extreme is no
longer to be apprehended and no longer to be sought for,
it is left to the judge to determine the limits
for the efforts to be made in place of it,
and this can only be done on the data furnished
by the facts of the real world, by the laws
of probability. Once the belligerents are no longer mere conceptions

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but individual states and governments, once the war is no
longer an ideal but a definite, substantial procedure, then the
reality will furnish the data to compute the unknown quantities
which are required to be found from the character the measures.
The situation of the adversary and the relations with which
he is surrounded. Each side will draw conclusions by the

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law of probability as to the designs of the other,
and act accordingly. Eleven. The political object now reappears. Here
the question which we had laid aside forces itself again
into consideration. See number two viz. The political object of
the war. The law of the extreme, the view to
disarm the adversary to overthrow him, has hitherto to a

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certain extent, usurped the place of this end or object.
Just as this law loses its force, the political object
must again come forward. If the whole consideration is a
calculation of probability based on definite persons and relations, then
the political object, being the original motive, must be an
essential factor in the product. The smaller the sacrifice we

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demand from our opponent, the smaller it may be expected
will be the means of resistance which he will employ.
But the smaller his preparation, the smaller will ours require
to be. Further, the smaller our political object, the less
value shall we set upon it, and the more easily
shall we be induced to give it up altogether. Thus,

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therefore the political object as the original motive of the
war will be the standard for determining both the aim
of the military force and also the amount of effort
to be made. This it cannot be in itself, but
it is so in relation to both the belligerent states,
because we are concerned with realities, not with mere abstraction.

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One and the same political object may produce totally different
effects upon different people, or even upon the same people
at different times. We can therefore only admit the political
object as the measure by considering it in its effects
upon those masses which it is to move, and consequently
the nature of those masses also comes into consideration. It

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is easy to see that thus the result may be
very different, according as these masses are animated with a
spirit which will infuse vigor into the action, or otherwise,
it is quite possible for such a state of feeling
to exist between two states, that a very trifling political
motive for war may produce an effect quite disproportionate, in fact,
a perfect explosion. This applies to the efforts which the

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political object will call forth in the two states, and
to the aim which the military action shall prescribe for itself.
At times, it may itself be that aim, as for example,
the conquest of a province. At other times, the political
object itself is not suitable for the aim of military action,
then such a one must be chosen as will be

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an equivalent for it, and stand in its place as
regards the conclusion of peace. But also in this due
attention to the peculiar character of the states concerned, is
always supposed there are circumstances in which the equivalent must
be much greater than the political object in order to
secure the latter. The political object will be so much

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the more the standard of aim and effort, and have
more influence in itself. The more the masses are indifferent,
the less that any mutual feeling of hostility prevails in
the two states from other causes. And therefore there are
cases where the political object almost alone will be decisive.
If the aim of the military action is an equivalent
for the political object, that action will in general diminish

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as the political object diminishes, and in a greater degree
the more the political object dominates. Thus it is explained
how without any contradiction in itself, there may be wars
of all degrees of importance and energy. From a war
of extermination down to the mere use of an army
of observation. This, however, leads to a question of another kind,

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which we have hereafter to develop an answer. Twelve. A
suspension in the action of war, unexplained by anything said
as yet, however insignificant the political claims mutually advanced, however
weak the means put forth, however small the aim to
which military action is directed, can this action be suspended
even for a moment. This is a question which penetrates

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deeply into the nature of the subject. Every transaction requires
for its accomplishment a certain time, which we call its duration.
This may be longer or shorter, according as the person
acting throws more or less dispatch into his movements. About
this more or less, we shall not trouble ourselves here.
Each person acts in his own fashion. But the slow

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person does not protract the thing because he wishes to
spend more time about it, but because by his nature
he requires more time, and if he made more haste,
would not do the thing so well. This time, therefore,
depends on subjective causes, and belongs to the length so
called of the action. If we allow now to every
action in war this its length, then we must assume,

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at first sight at least, that any expenditure of time
beyond this length, that is, every suspension of hostile action,
appears in absurdity. With respect to this, it must not
be forgotten that we now speak not of the progress
of one or other of the two opponents, but of
the general progress of the whole action of the war thirteen.
There is only one cause which can suspend the action,

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and this seems to be only possible on one side.
In any case, if two parties have armed themselves for strife,
then a feeling of animosity must have moved them to it.
As long now as they continue armed, that is, do
not come to terms of peace, this feeling must exist,
and it can only be brought to a standstill by
either side by one single motive alone, which is that

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he waits for a more favorable moment for action. Now,
at first sight, it appears that this motive can never
exist except on one side, because it eo ipso must
be prejudicial to the other. If the one has an
interest in acting, then the other must have an interest
in waiting. A complete equilibrium of forces can never produce

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a suspension of action, for during this suspension he who
has the positive object, that is, the assailant, must continue progressing.
For if we should imagine an equilibrium in this way,
that he who has the positive object, therefore the strongest
motive can at the same time only command the lesser means,
so that the equation is made up by the product
of the motive and the power. Then we must say,

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if no alteration in this condition of equilibrium is to
be expected, the two parties must make peace. But if
an alteration is to be expected, then it can only
be favorable to one side, and therefore the other has
a manifest interest to act without delay. We see that
the conception of an equilibrium cannot explain a suspension of arms,

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but that it ends in the question of the expectation
of a more favorable moment. Let us suppose therefore, that
one of two states has a positive object, as for instance,
the conquest of one of the enemy's provinces, which is
to be utilized in the settlement of peace. After this conquest,
his political object is accomplished, the necessity for action ceases,

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and for him a pause ensues. If the adversary is
also contented with this solution, he will make peace. If not,
he must act now if we suppose that in four
weeks he will be in a better condition to act
than he has sufficient grounds for putting off the time
of action. But from that moment the logical course for

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the enemy appears to be to act that he may
not give the conquered party the desired time. Of course,
in this mode of reasoning it complete insight into the
state of circumstances on both sides is supposed fourteen. Thus
a continuance of action will ensue, which will advance towards
a climax. If this unbroken continuity of hostile operations really existed,

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the effect would be that everything would again be driven
towards the extreme. For irrespective of the effect of such
incessant activity in inflaming the feelings and infusing into the
whole a greater degree of passion, a greater elementary force,
there would also follow from this continuance of action, a
stricter continuity, a closer connection between cause and effect, and

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thus every single action would become of more importance and
consequently more replete with danger. But we know that the
course of action in war has seldom or never this
unbroken continuity, and that there have been many wars in
which action occupied by far the smallest portion of time employed,
the whole of the rest being consumed in inaction. It

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is impossible that this should be always an anomaly. Suspension
of action in war must therefore be possible, that is
no contradiction in itself. We now proceed to show how
this is fifteen. Here therefore, the principle of polarity is
brought into requisition. As we have supposed the interests of
one commander to be always antagonistic to those of the other,

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we have assumed a true polarity. We reserve a fuller
explanation of this for another chapter, merely making the following
observation on it. At present. The principle of polarity is
only valid when it can be conceived in one and
the same thing, where the positive and its opposite, the negative,
completely destroyed each other in a battle both sides strive

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to conquer. That is true polarity, for the victory of
the one side destroys that of the other. But when
we speak of two different things which have a common
relation external to themselves, then it is not the things,
but their relations which have the polarity. Sixteen Attack and
Defense are things differing in kind and of unequal force,

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Polarity is therefore not applicable to them. If there was
only one form of war to wit the attack of
the enemy, therefore no defense. Or in other words, if
the attack was distinguished from the defense merely by the
positive motive which the one has and the other has not,
but the methods of each were precisely one and the same,

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then in this sort of fight, every advantage gained on
the one side would be a corresponding disadvantage on the other,
and true polarity would exist. But action in war is
divided into two forms, attack and defense, which, as we
shall hereafter explain more particularly, are very different and of
unequal strength. Polarity therefore lies in that to which both

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bear a relation, in the decision, but not in the
attack or defense itself. If the one commander wishes the
solution put off, the other must wish to hasten it,
but only by the same form of action. If it
is A's interest not to attack his enemy at present
but four weeks hence, then it is B's interest to
be attacked not four weeks hence, but at the present moment.

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This is the direct antagonism of interests, But it by
no means follows that it would be for Bee's interest
to attack a at once. That is plainly something totally different. Seventeen.
The effect of polarity is often destroyed by the superiority
of the defense over the attack, and thus the suspension
of action in war is explained if the form of

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defense is stronger than that of offense. As we shall
hereafter show, the question arises, is the advantage of a
deferred decision as great on the one side as the
advantage of the defensive form on the other. If it
is not, then it cannot, by its counterweight, overbalance the latter,
and thus influence the progress of the action of the war.
We see therefore that the impulsive force existing in the

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polarity of interests may be lost in a difference between
the strength of the offensive and the defensive, and thereby
because ineffectual. If therefore that side for which the present
is favorable is too weak to be able to dispense
with the advantage of the defensive, he must put up
with the unfavorable prospects which the future holds out, For
it may still be better to fight a defensive battle

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in the unpromising future than to assume the offensive or
make peace at present. Now being convinced that the superiority
of the defensive asterisk rightly understood is very great, and
much greater than may appear at first sight, we conceive
that the greater number of those periods of an action
which occur in war are thus explained without involving any contradiction.

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The weaker the motives to action are, The more will
those motives be absorbed and neutralized by this difference between
attack and defense. The more frequently therefore will action in
warfare be stopped, As indeed, experience teaches eighteen. The second
ground consists in the imperfect knowledge of circumstances. But there
is still another cause which may stop action in war viz.

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An incomplete view of the situation. Each commander can only
fully know his own position. That of his opponent can
only be known to him by reports which are uncertain.
He may therefore form a wrong judgment with respect to
it upon data of this description, and in consequence of
that error, he may suppose that the power of taking

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the initiative rests with his adversary, when it lies really
with himself. This one of perfect insight might certainly just
as often occasion an untimely action as untimely in action,
and hence it would in itself no more contribute to
delay than to accelerate action in war. Still, it must
always be regarded as one of the natural causes which

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may bring action in war to a standstill without involving
a contradiction. But if we reflect how much more we
are inclined and induced to estimate the power of our
opponents too high than too low, because it lies in
human nature to do so, we shall admit that our
imperfect insight into facts in general must contribute very much
to delay action in war and to modify the application

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of the principles pending our conduct. The possibility of a
standstill brings into the action of war a new modification,
inasmuch as it dilutes that action with the element of time,
checks the influence or sense of danger in its course,
and increases the means of reinstating a lost balance of force.
The greater the tension of feelings from which the war springs,

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the greater, therefore the energy with which it is carried on,
so much the shorter will be the periods of inaction
on the other hand, the weaker the principle of warlike activity,
the longer will be these periods, for powerful motives increase
the force of the will, and this, as we know,
is always a factor in the product of force. Nineteen.

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Frequent periods of inaction in war remove it further from
the absolute and make it still more a calculation of probabilities.
But the slower the action proceeds in war, the more
frequent and longer the period of inaction, so much, the
more easily can an error be repaired. Therefore, so much
the boulder a general will be in his calculations, so much,

(32:08):
the more readily will he keep them below the line
of the absolute, and build everything upon probabilities and conjecture. Thus,
according as the course of the war is more or
less slow, more or less time will be allowed for
that which the nature of a concrete case particularly requires
calculation of probability based on given circumstances. Twenty. Therefore, the

(32:30):
element of chance only is wanting to make of war
a game, and in that element it is least of
all deficient. We see from the foregoing how much the
objective nature of war makes it a calculation of probabilities.
Now there is only one single element still wanting to
make it a game, And that element it certainly is
not without it is chance. There is no human affair

(32:51):
which stands so constantly and so generally in close connection
with chance as war. But together with chance, the accidental,
and along with that good luck, occupy a great place
in war twenty one. War is a game, both objectively
and subjectively. If we now take a look at the
subjective nature of war, that is to say, at those

(33:13):
conditions under which it is carried on, it will appear
to us still more like a game. Primarily, the element
in which the operations of war are carried on is danger.
But which of all the moral qualities is the first
in danger? Courage. Now, certainly courage is quite compatible with
prudent calculation, but still they are things of quite a

(33:33):
different kind, essentially different qualities of the mind. On the
other hand, daring, reliance on good fortune, boldness, rashness are
only expressions of courage. And all these propensities of the
mind look for the fortuitous or accidental, because it is
their element. We see therefore, how from the commencement the absolute,

(33:53):
the mathematical, as it is called, nowhere finds any sure
basis in the calculations in the art of war, and
that from the outset there is a play of possibilities, probabilities,
good and bad luck, which spreads about with all the
course and fine threads of its web, and makes war
of all branches of human activity the most like a
gambling game twenty two. How this accords best with the

(34:16):
human mind in general. Although our intellect always feels itself
urged towards clearness and certainty, still our mind often feels
itself attracted by uncertainty, instead of threading its way with
the understanding along the narrow path of philosophical investigations and
logical conclusions. In order, almost unconscious of itself, to arrive

(34:37):
in spaces where it feels itself a stranger, and where
it seems to part from all well known objects, it
prefers to remain with the imagination in the realms of
chance and luck, instead of living yonder on poor necessity.
It revels here in the wealth of possibilities. Animated thereby courage,
then takes wings to itself, and, daring in danger, make

(34:57):
the element into which it launches itself as a f
fearless swimmer plunges into the stream. Shall theory leave it
here and move on self satisfied with absolute conclusions and rules,
then it is of no practical use. Theory must also
take into account the human element. It must accord a
place to courage, to boldness, even to rashness. The art

(35:20):
of war has to deal with living and with moral forces,
the consequence of which is that it can never attain
the absolute and positive. There is therefore everywhere a margin
for the accidental, and just as much in the greatest
things as in the smallest as there is room for
this accidental on the one hand, so on the other,
there must be courage and self reliance in proportion to

(35:41):
the room available. If these qualities are forthcoming in a
high degree, the margin left may likewise be great. Courage
and self reliance are therefore principles quite essential to war. Consequently,
theory must only set up such rules as allow ample
scope for all degrees and variety of these necessary and

(36:01):
noblest of military virtues. In daring, there may still be
wisdom and prudence as well, only they are estimated by
a different standard of value. Twenty three. War is always
a serious means for a serious object. Its more particular
definition such is war, such the commander who conducts it,

(36:22):
such the theory which rules it. But war is no pastime,
no mere passion for venturing and winning, no work of
a free enthusiasm. It is a serious means for a
serious object. All that appearance which it wears from the
varying hues of fortune, all that it assimilates into itself
of the oscillations of passion, of courage, of imagination, of enthusiasm,

(36:45):
are only particular properties of this means. The war of
a community of whole nations, and particularly of civilized nations,
always starts from a political condition, and is called forth
by a political motive. It is therefore a political act. Now,
if it was a perfect, unrestrained, an absolute expression of force,

(37:07):
as we had to deduce it from its mere conception,
then the moment it is called forth by policy, it
would step into the place of policy, and as something
quite independent of it, would set it aside and only
follow its own laws. Just as a mind at the
moment of explosion cannot be guided into any other direction
than that which has been given to it by preparatory arrangements.

(37:27):
This is how the thing has really been viewed. Hitherto
whenever a want of harmony between policy and the conduct
of a war has led to theoretical distinctions of the kind.
But it is not so, and the idea is radically false.
War in the real world, as we have already seen,
is not an extreme thing which expends itself at one
single discharge. It is the operation of powers which do

(37:51):
not develop themselves completely in the same manner and in
the same measure, but which at one time expands sufficiently
to overcome the resistance opposed by inertia or friction, while
at another they are too weak to produce an effect.
It is, therefore, in a certain measure, a pulsation of
violent force, more or less vehement, consequently making its discharges

(38:12):
and exhausting its powers more or less quickly, in other words,
conducting more or less quickly to the aim, but always
lasting long enough to admit of influence being exerted on
it in its course, so as to give it this
or that direction, in short, to be subject to the
will of a guiding intelligence. Now, if we reflect that
war has its root in a politial object, then naturally

(38:34):
this original motive which called it into existence, should also continue.
The first and highest consideration in its conduct. Still, the
political object is no despotic lagover. On that account, it
must accommodate itself to the nature of the means, And
though changes in these means may involve modification in the
political objective, the latter always retains a prior right to consideration.

(38:59):
Policy therefore, is interwoven with the whole action of war,
and must exercise a continuous influence upon it, as far
as the nature of the forces liberated by it will permit.
Twenty four War is a mere continuation of policy by
other means. We see therefore that war is not merely
a political act, but also a real political instrument, a

(39:21):
continuation of political commerce, a carrying out of the same
by other means. All beyond this, which is strictly peculiar
to war, relates merely to the peculiar nature of the
means which it uses. That the tendencies and views of
policy shall not be incompatible with these means. The art
of war in general, and a commander in each particular

(39:41):
case may demand, and this claim is truly not a
trifling one. But however powerfully this may react on political
views in particular cases. Still, it must always be regarded
as only a modification of them. For the political view
is the object, war is the means, and the means
must always in include the object. In our conception twenty

(40:03):
five diversity in the nature of wars. The greater and
the more powerful the motives of a war, the more
it affects the whole existence of a people, The more
violent the excitement which precedes the war by so much.
The nearer will the war approach to its abstract form,
so much, the more will it be directed to the
destruction of the enemy. So much the nearer will the

(40:24):
military and political ends coincide so much, the more purely
military and less political the war appears to be. But
the weaker the motives and the tensions so much, the
less will the natural direction of the military element, that is, force,
be coincident with the direction which the political element indicates.
So much the more must therefore the war become diverted

(40:47):
from its natural direction, the political object diverge from the
aim of an ideal war, and the war appear to
become political. But that the reader may not form any
false conceptions, we must here observe that by this natural
tendency of war we only mean the philosophical the strictly logical,
and by no means the tendency of forces actually engaged

(41:08):
in conflict, by which would be supposed to be included
all the emotions and passions of the combatants. No doubt,
in some cases these also might be excited to such
a degree as to be with difficulty restrained and confined
to the political road. But in most cases such a
contradiction will not arise, because by the existence of such
strenuous exertions a great plan in harmony Therewith would be implied.

(41:32):
If the plan is directed only upon a small object,
then the impulses of feeling amongst the masses will be
also so weak that these masses will require to be
stimulated rather than repressed. Twenty six. They may all be
regarded as political acts. Returning now to the main subject.
Although it is true that in one kind of war

(41:52):
the political element seems almost to disappear, whilst in another
kind it occupies a very prominent place, we may still
affirm that the one is as political as the other.
For if we regard the state policy as the intelligence
of the personified state, then amongst all the constellations in
the political sky whose movements it has to compute, those
must be included which arise when the nature of its

(42:14):
relations imposes the necessity of a great war. It is
only if we understand by policy not a true appreciation
of affairs in general, but the conventional conception of a cautious, subtle,
also dishonest craftiness averse from violence, that the latter kind
of war may belong more to policy than the first

(42:34):
twenty seven influence of this view on the right understanding
of military history and on the foundations of theory. We see, therefore,
in the first place, that under all circumstances, war is
to be regarded not as an independent thing, but as
a political instrument. And it is only by taking this
point of view that we can avoid finding ourselves in

(42:55):
opposition to all military history. This is the only means
of un unlocking the great book and making it intelligible. Secondly,
this view shows us how wars must differ in character
according to the nature of the motives and circumstances from
which they proceed. Now, the first, the grandest and most
decisive act of judgment, which the statesmen and general exercises,

(43:18):
is rightly to understand. In this respect, the war in
which he engages not to take it for something, or
to wish to make of it something which, by the
nature of its relations, it is impossible for it to be.
This is therefore the first, the most comprehensive of all
strategical questions. We shall enter into this more fully in
treating of the plan of a war for the present.

(43:41):
We content ourselves with having brought the subject up to
this point, and having thereby fixed the chief point of
view from which war and its theory are to be
studied twenty eight result. For theory, war is therefore not
only chameleonlike in character, because it changes its color in
some degree in the ease each particular case. But it

(44:01):
is also as a whole in relation to the predominant
tendencies which are in it a wonderful trinity, composed of
the original violence of its elements, hatred and animosity, which
may be looked upon as blind instinct, of the play
of probabilities and chance, which make it a free activity
of the soul, and of the subordinate nature of a
political instrument by which it belongs purely to the reason.

(44:26):
The first of these three phases concerns more the people,
the second more the general and his army. The third, more,
the government. The passions which break forth in war must
already have a latent existence in the peoples. The range
which the display of courage and talents shall get in
the realm of probabilities and of chance depends on the
particular characteristics of the general and his army. But the

(44:49):
political objects belong to the government alone. These three tendencies,
which appear, like so many different lawgivers, are deeply rooted
in the nature of the subject, and at the same
time time variable in degree. A theory which would leave
any one of them out of account or set up
any arbitrary relation between them, would immediately become involved in

(45:09):
such a contradiction with the reality that it might be
regarded as destroyed at once by that alone. The problem is, therefore,
that theory shall keep itself poised in a manner between
these three tendencies, as between three points of attraction. The
way in which alone this difficult problem can be solved,
we shall examine in the Book on the Theory of War.

(45:32):
In every case, the conception of war as here defined,
will be the first ray of light, which shows us
the true foundation of theory, and which first separates the
great masses and allows us to distinguish them from one another.
Chapter two, End and Means in War. Having in the
foregoing chapter ascertained the complicated and variable nature of war,

(45:53):
we shall now occupy ourselves in examining into the influence
which this nature has upon the end and means in war.
If we ask first of all for the object upon
which the whole effort of war is to be directed,
in order that it may suffice for the attainment of
the political object, we shall find that it is just
as variable as are the political object and the particular

(46:14):
circumstances of the war. If, in the next place, we
keep once more to the pure conception of war, then
we must say that the political object properly lies out
of its province. For if war is an act of
violence to compel the enemy to fulfill our will, then
in every case all depends on our overthrowing the enemy,
that is, disarming him, and on that alone. This object

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developed from abstract conceptions, but which is also the one
aim that in a great many cases in reality. We
shall in the first place examine in this reality in
connection with the plan of a campaign. We shall hereafter
examine more closely into the meaning of disarming a nation.
But here we must at once draw a distinction between
three things, which, as three general objects, comprise everything else

(47:00):
within them. They are the military power, the country, and
the will of the enemy. The military power must be destroyed,
that is, reduced to such a state as not to
be able to prosecute the war. This is the sense
in which we wish to be understood Hereafter, whenever we
use the expression destruction of the enemy's military power, the

(47:22):
country must be conquered, for out of the country a
new military force may be formed. But even when both
these things are done, still the war, that is, the
hostile feeling and action of hostile agencies, cannot be considered
as at an end as long as the will of
the enemy is not subdued. Also, that is, its government
and its allies must be forced into signing a peace,

(47:45):
or the people into submission. For whilst we are in
full occupation of the country, the war may break out afresh,
either in the interior or through assistance given by allies.
No doubt this may also take place after a peace.
But that shows nothing more than that every war does
not carry in itself the elements for a complete decision
and final settlement. But even if this is the case,

(48:08):
still with the conclusion of peace, and number of sparks
are always extinguished which would have smoldered on quietly, and
the excitement of the passions abates, because all those whose
minds are disposed to peace, of which in all nations
and under all circumstances there is always a great number,
turn themselves away completely from the road to resistance, whatever
may take place. Subsequently, we must always look upon the

(48:31):
object as attained and the business of war as ended
by a peace. As protection of the country is the
primary object for which the military force exists. Therefore, the
natural order is that, first of all this force should
be destroyed, then the country subdued, and through the effect
of these two results, as well as the position we
then hold, the enemy should be forced to make peace. Generally,

(48:55):
the destruction of the enemy's force is done by degrees,
and in just the same measure the conquest of the
country follows immediately. The two likewise usually react upon each other,
because the loss of province's occasions a diminution of military force.
But this order is by no means necessary, and on
that account it also does not always take place. The

(49:17):
enemy's army, before it is sensibly weakened, may retreat to
the opposite side of the country, or even quite outside
of it. In this case, therefore the greater part or
the whole of the country is conquered. But this object
of war in the abstract, this final means of attaining
the political object in which all others are combined. That

(49:38):
disarming the enemy is rarely attained in practice, and is
not a condition necessary to peace. Therefore it can in
no wise be set up in theory as a law.
There are innumerable instances of treaties in which peace has
been settled before either party could be looked upon as disarmed, indeed,
even before the balance of power had undergone any sensible alteration. Nay, Further,

(50:02):
if we look at the case in the concrete, then
we must say that in a whole class of cases,
the idea of a complete defeat of the enemy would
be a mere imaginative flight, especially when the enemy is
considerably superior. The reason why the object deduced from the
conception of war is not adapted in general to real
war lies in the difference between the two, which is

(50:23):
discussed in the preceding chapter. If it was as pure
theory gives it, then a war between two states of
very unequal military strength would appear in absurdity, therefore impossible.
At most, the inequality between the physical forces might be
such that it could be balanced by the moral forces,
and that would not go far with our present social

(50:43):
condition in Europe. Therefore, if we have seen wars take
place between states of very unequal power, that has been
the case because there is a wide difference between war
in reality and its original conception. There are two considerations
which as motives may practically take the place of inability
to continue the contest. The first is the improbability. The

(51:05):
second is the excessive price of success. According to what
we have seen in the foregoing chapter, war must always
set itself free from the strict law of logical necessity
and seek aid from the calculation of probabilities. And as
this is so much the more the case, the more
the war has a bias that way, from the circumstances
out of which it has arisen, the smaller its motives

(51:28):
are and the excitement it has raised. So it is
also conceivable how out of this calculation of probabilities even
motives to peace may arise. War does not therefore always
require to be fought out until one party is overthrown.
And we may suppose that when the motives and passions
are slight, a weak probability will suffice to move that

(51:49):
side to which it is unfavorable to give way. Now,
were the other side convinced of this beforehand, it is
natural that he would strive for this probability only instead
of first ways, wasting time and effort in the attempt
to achieve the total destruction of the enemy's army. Still
more general in its influence on the resolution to peace
is the consideration of the expenditure of force already made

(52:12):
and further required. As war is no act of blind passion,
but is dominated by the political object, therefore, the value
of that object determines the measure of the sacrifices by
which it is to be purchased. This will be the
case not only as regards extent, but also as regards duration.
As soon therefore, as the required outlay becomes so great

(52:34):
that the political object is no longer equal in value,
the object must be given up, and peace will be
the result. We see therefore, that in wars where one
side cannot completely disarm the other, the motives to peace
on both sides will rise or fall on each side
according to the probability of future success and the required outlay.

(52:55):
If these motives were equally strong on both sides, they
would meet in the center of their polae difference. Where
they are strong on one side, they might be weak
on the other. If their amount is only sufficient, peace
will follow, but naturally to the advantage of that side
which has the weakest motive for its conclusion. We purposely

(53:15):
pass overhear the difference which the positive and negative character
of the political end must necessarily produce practically. For although
that is, as we shall hereafter show of the highest importance,
still we are obliged to keep here to a more
general point of view, because the original political views, in
the course of the war change very much, and at
last may become totally different, just because they are determined

(53:38):
by results and probable events. Now comes the question how
to influence the probability of success in the first place,
naturally by the same means which we use when the
object is the subjugation of the enemy by the destruction
of his military force and the conquest of his provinces.
But these two means are not exactly of the same

(53:58):
import here as they would be in reference to that object.
If we attack the enemy's army, it is a very
different thing whether we intend to follow up the first
blow with a succession of others until the whole force
is destroyed, or whether we mean to content ourselves with
a victory to shake the enemy's feeling of security, to
convince him of our superiority, and to instill into him

(54:19):
a feeling of apprehension about the future. If this is
our object, we only go so far in the destruction
of his forces as is sufficient. In like manner, the
conquest of the enemy's provinces is quite a different measure
if the object is not the destruction of the enemy's army.
In the latter case, the destruction of the army is
the real effectual action, and the taking of the province

(54:42):
is only a consequence of it. To take them before
the army had been defeated would always be looked upon
only as a necessary evil. On the other hand, if
our views are not directed upon the complete destruction of
the enemy's force, and if we are sure that the
enemy does not seek, but fears, to bring matters to
a bloody decision, that taking possession of a weak or

(55:02):
defenseless province is an advantage in itself, and if this
advantage is of sufficient importance to make the enemy apprehensive
about the general result, then it may also be regarded
as a shorter road to peace. But now we come
upon a peculiar means of influencing the probability of the
result without destroying the enemy's army, namely upon the expeditions

(55:23):
which have a direct connection with political views. If there
are any enterprises which are particularly likely to break up
the enemy's alliances or make them inoperative, to gain new
alliances for ourselves, to raise political powers in our own favor,
and see and see, then it is easy to conceive
how much these may increase the probability of success and

(55:43):
become a shorter way towards our object than the routing
of the enemy's forces. The second question is how to
act upon the enemy's expenditure and strength, that is, to
raise the price of success. The enemy's outlay in strength
lies in the wear and tear of his forces, consequently
in the destruction of them on our part, and in
the loss of provinces consequently the conquest of them by us.

(56:07):
Here again on account of the various significations of these means,
so likewise it will be found that neither of them
will be identical in its signification in all cases if
the objects are different. The smallness in general of this
difference must not cause us perplexity, for in reality, the
weakest motives the finest shades of difference, often decide in

(56:28):
favor of this or that method of applying force. Our
only business here is to show that certain conditions being supposed,
the possibility of attaining our purpose in different ways is
no contradiction, absurdity, nor even error. Besides these two means,
there are three other peculiar ways of directly increasing the
waste of the enemy's force. The first is invasion, that is,

(56:52):
the occupation of the enemy's territory, not with a view
to keeping it, but in order to levy contributions upon
it or to devastate The immediate object here is neither
the conquest of the enemy's territory nor the defeat of
his armed force, but merely to do him damage in
a general way. The second way is to select for
the object of our enterprises those points at which we

(57:14):
can do the enemy most harm. Nothing is easier to
conceive than two different directions in which our force may
be employed, the first of which is to be preferred
if our object is to defeat the enemy's army, while
the other is more advantageous if the defeat of the
enemy is out of the question. According to the usual
mode of speaking, we should say that the first is

(57:35):
primarily military, the other more political. But if we take
our view from the highest point, both are equally military,
and neither the one nor the other can be eligible
unless it suits the circumstances of the case. The third,
by far, the most important from the great number of
cases which it embraces, is the wearing out of the enemy.

(57:56):
We choose this expression not only to explain our meaning
in fuel words, but because it represents the thing exactly
and is not so figurative as may at first appear.
The idea of wearing out in a struggle amounts in
practice to a gradual exhaustion of the physical powers and
of the will by the long continuance of exertion. Now,
if we want to overcome the enemy by the duration

(58:19):
of the contest, we must content ourselves with as small
objects as possible, For it is in the nature of
the thing that a great end requires a greater expenditure
of force than a small one. But the smallest object
that we can propose to ourselves is simple passive resistance,
that is, a combat without any positive view. In this way,
therefore our means attain their greatest relative value, and therefore

(58:42):
the result is best secured. How far now can this
negative mode of proceeding be carried plainly not to absolute passivity,
for mere endurance would not be fighting, And the defensive
is an activity by which so much of the enemy's
power must be destroyed that he must give up his object.
That alone is what we aim at in each single act,

(59:03):
and therein consists the negative nature of our object. No doubt,
this negative object in its single act is not so
effective as the positive object in the same direction would
be supposing it successful, but there is this difference in
its favor that it succeeds more easily than the positive,
and therefore it holds out greater certainty of success. What

(59:24):
is wanting in the efficacy of its single act must
be gained through time, that is, through the duration of
the contest, And therefore this negative intention, which constitutes the
principle of them pure defensive, is also the natural means
of overcoming the enemy by the duration of the combat,
that is, of wearing him out. Here lies the origin

(59:44):
of that difference of offensive and defensive, the influence of
which prevails throughout the whole province of war. We cannot
at present pursue this subject further than to observe that
from this negative intention are to be deduced all the
advantages and all the stronger forms of combat which on
the side of the defensive, and in which that philosophical
dynamic law which exists between the greatness and the certainty

(01:00:06):
of success is realized. We shall resume the consideration of
all this hereafter. If then the negative purpose, that is,
the concentration of all the means into a state of
pure resistance, affords a superiority in the contest, and if
this advantage is sufficient to balance whatever superiority in numbers
the adversary may have, then the mere duration of the

(01:00:28):
contest will suffice gradually to bring the loss of force
on the part of the adversary to a point at
which the political object can no longer be an equivalent,
a point at which therefore he must give up the contest.
We see then that this class of means. The wearing
out of the enemy includes the great number of cases
in which the weaker resists the stronger. Frederick the Great

(01:00:50):
during the Seven Years War was never strong enough to
overthrow the Austrian monarchy, and if he had tried to
do so after the fashion of Charles the Twelfth, he
would inevitably have had to succumb himself. But after his
skillful application of the system of husbanding his resources had
shown the powers allied against him through a seven years
struggle that the actual expenditure of strength far exceeded what

(01:01:12):
they had at first anticipated, they made peace. We see then,
that there are many ways to one's object in war.
That the complete subjugation of the enemy is not essential
in every case, That the destruction of the enemy's military force,
the conquest of the enemy's provinces, the mere occupation of them,
the mere invasion of them, enterprises which are aimed directly

(01:01:34):
at political objects. Lastly, a passive expectation of the enemy's blow,
are all means which, each in itself may be used
to force the enemies will, according as the peculiar circumstances
of the case lead us to expect more from the
one or the other. We could still add to these
a whole category of shorter methods of gaining the end,

(01:01:54):
which might be called arguments ad hominem. What branch of
human affairs is there in which these as sparks of
individual spirit have not made their appearance, surmounting all formal considerations,
And least of all, can they fail to appear in
war where the personal character of the combatants plays such
an important part, both in the cabinet and in the field.

(01:02:15):
We limit ourselves to pointing this out, as it would
be pedantry to attempt to reduce such influences into classes.
Including these, we may say that the number of possible
ways of reaching the object rises to infinity. To avoid
underestimating these different short roads to one's purpose, either estimating
them only as rare exceptions, or holding the difference which

(01:02:37):
they cause in the conduct of war as insignificant, we
must bear in mind the diversity of political objects which
may cause a war. Measure at a glance the distance
which there is between a death struggle for political existence
and a war which a forced or tottering alliance makes
a matter of disagreeable duty Between the two. Innumerable gradations
occur in practice if we reject one of these radiations

(01:03:00):
in theory, we might with equal right reject the whole,
which would be tantamount to shutting the real world completely
out of sight. These are the circumstances in general, connected
with the aim which we have to pursue in war.
Let us now turn to the means. There is only
one single means. It is the fight. However diversified this

(01:03:20):
may be in form, however widely it may differ from
a rough vent of hatred and animosity in a hand
to hand encounter. Whatever number of things may introduce themselves
which are not actual fighting. Still, it is always implied
in the conception of war that all the effects manifested,
have their roots in a combat. That this must always
be so in the greatest diversity and complication of the

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reality is proved in a very simple manner. All that
takes place in war takes place through armed forces. But
where the forces of war i e. Armed men are
applied there the idea of fighting must of necessity be
at the foundation. All therefore, that relates to forces of war,
all that is connected with their creation, maintenance, and application,

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belongs to military activity. Creation and maintenance are obviously only
the means, whilst application is the object. The contest in
war is not a contest of individual against individual, but
an organized whole consisting of manifold parts. In this great
whole we may distinguish units of two kinds, the one

(01:04:24):
determined by the subject, the other by the object. In
an army, the mass of combatants ranges itself always into
an order of new units, which again form members of
a higher order. The combat of each of these members forms,
therefore also a more or less distinct unit. Further, the
motive of the fight, therefore its object forms its unit.

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Now to each of these units, which we distinguish in
the contest, we attach the name of combat. If the
idea of combat lies at the foundation of every application
of armed power, then also the application of o armed
force in general is nothing more than the determining and
arranging a certain number of combats. Every activity in war
therefore necessarily relates to the combat, either directly or indirectly.

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The soldier is levied, clothed, armed, exercised. He sleeps, eats, drinks,
and marches, all merely to fight at the right time
and place. If therefore, all the threads of military activity
terminate in the combat. We shall grasp them all when
we settle the order of the combats. Only from this
order and its execution precede the effects, never directly from

(01:05:36):
the conditions preceding them. Now, in the combat, all the
action is directed to the destruction of the enemy, or
rather of his fighting powers, for this lies in the
conception of combat. The destruction of the enemy's fighting power
is therefore always the means to attain the object of
the combat. This object may likewise be the mere destruction

(01:05:58):
of the enemy's armed force, but that is not by
any means necessary, and it may be something quite different Whenever,
for instance, as we have shown, the defeat of the
enemy is not the only means to attain the political object.
Whenever there are other objects which may be pursued as
the aim in a war, then it follows of itself
that such other objects may become the object of particular

(01:06:20):
acts of warfare, and therefore also the object of combats.
But even those combats, which, as subordinate acts, are in
the strict sense devoted to the destruction of the enemy's
fighting force, need not have that destruction itself as their
first object. If we think of the manifold parts of
a great armed force, of the number of circumstances which

(01:06:41):
come into activity when it is employed. Then it is
clear that the combat of such a force must also
require a manifold organization, a subordinating of parts and formation.
There may and must naturally arise, for particular parts, a
number of objects which are not themselves the destruction of
the enemy's armed force, and which, while they certainly contribute
to increase that destruction, do so only in an indirect manner.

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If a battalion is ordered to drive the enemy from
a rising ground or a bridge, and see, then properly
the occupation of any such locality is the real object,
the destruction of the enemy's armed force, which takes place
only the means or secondary matter. If the enemy can
be driven away merely by a demonstration, the object is
attained all the same. But this hill or bridge is,

(01:07:28):
in point of fact, only required as a means of
increasing the gross amount of loss inflicted on the enemy's
armed force. If this is the case on the field
of battle, much more must it be so on the
whole theater of war, where not only one army is
opposed to another, but one state, one nation, one whole country.
To another. Here the number of possible relations and consequently

(01:07:51):
possible combinations is much greater, the diversity of measures increased,
and by the gradation of objects, each subordinate to another,
the first means employed is further apart from the ultimate object.
It is therefore, for many reasons possible that the object
of a combat is not the destruction of the enemy's force,
that is, of the force immediately opposed to us, but

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that this only appears as a means. But in all
such cases it is no longer a question of complete destruction,
for the combat is here nothing else. But a measure
of strength has in itself no value except only that
of the present result, that is, of its decision. But
a measuring of strength may be effected in cases where

(01:08:33):
the opposing sides are very unequal by a mere comparative estimate.
In such cases, no fighting will take place, and the
weaker will immediately give way. If the object of a
combat is not always the destruction of the enemy's forces
therein engaged, and if its object can often be attained
as well without the combat taking place at all, by

(01:08:54):
merely making a resolve to fight, and by the circumstances
to which this resolution gives rise, and that explains how
a whole campaign may be carried on with great activity
without the actual combat playing any notable part in it.
That this may be so, military history proves by a
hundred examples, how many of those cases can be justified,

(01:09:15):
that is, without involving a contradiction. And whether some of
the celebrities who rose out of them would stand criticism,
we shall leave undecided, for all we have to do
with the matter is to show the possibility of such
a course of events in war. We have only one
means in war, the battle. But this means, by the
infinite variety of paths in which it may be applied,

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leads us into all the different ways which the multiplicity
of objects allows of, so that we seem to have
gained nothing. But that is not the case. For from
this unity of means proceeds a thread which assists the
study of the subject as it runs through the whole
web of military activity and holds it together. But we
have considered the destruction of the enemy's force as one

(01:09:56):
of the objects which may be pursued in war, and
left undecided what relative importance should be given to it
amongst other objects. In certain cases, it will depend on circumstances,
and as a general question, we have left its value undetermined.
We are once more brought back upon it, and we
shall be able to get an insight into the value
which must necessarily be accorded to it. The combat is

(01:10:20):
the single activity in war. In the combat, the destruction
of the enemy opposed to us is the means to
the end. It is so even when the combat does
not actually take place, because in that case there lies
at the root of the decision the supposition at all
events that this destruction is to be regarded as beyond doubt.
It follows therefore, that the destruction of the enemy's military

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force is the foundation stone of all action in war,
the great support of all combinations which rest upon it,
like the arch on its abutments. All action therefore takes
place on the supposition that if the solution by force
of arms, which lies that its foundation, should be realized,
it will be a favorable one. The decision by arms

(01:11:01):
is for all operations in war, great and small. What
cash payment is in bill transactions, however remote from each other.
These relations, however seldom the realization may take place. Still,
it can never entirely fail to occur. If the decision
by arms lies at the foundation of all combinations, then
it follows that the enemy can defeat each of them

(01:11:24):
by gaining a victory on the field, not merely in
the one on which our combination directly depends, but also
in any other encounter. If it is only important enough
for every important decision by arms, that is, destruction of
the enemy's forces reacts upon all preceding it, because like
a liquid element, they tend to bring themselves to a level. Thus,

(01:11:46):
the destruction of the enemy's armed force appears therefore always
as the superior and more effectual means to which all
others must give way. It is, however, only when there
is a supposed equality in all other conditions, that we
can ascribe to the destruction of the enemy's armed force
the greater efficacy. It would therefore be a great mistake

(01:12:07):
to draw the conclusion that a blind dash must always
gain the victory over skill and caution. An unskillful attack
would lead to the destruction of our own and not
of the enemy's force, and therefore is not what is
here meant. The superior efficacy belongs not to the means,
but to the end, and we are only comparing the
effect of one realized purpose with the other. If we

(01:12:30):
speak of the destruction of the enemy's armed force, we
must expressly point out that nothing obliges us to confine
this idea to the mere physical force. On the contrary,
the moral is necessarily implied as well, because both, in
fact are interwoven with each other, even in the most
minute details, and therefore cannot be separated. But it is

(01:12:50):
just in connection with the inevitable effect which has been
referred to of a great act of destruction, a great
victory upon all other decisions by arms, that this moral
element is most fluid, if we may use that expression,
and therefore distributes itself the most easily through all the parts.
Against the far superior worth which the destruction of the

(01:13:10):
enemy's armed force has over all other means, stands the
expense and risk of this means, and it is only
to avoid these that any other means are taken. That
these must be costly stands to reason for the waste
of our own military forces must, ceteris paribus, always be
greater the more our aim is directed upon the destruction
of the enemy's power. The danger lies in this that

(01:13:33):
the greater efficacy which we seek recoils on ourselves, and
therefore has worse consequences in case we fail of success.
Other methods are therefore less costly when they succeed, less
dangerous when they fail. But in this is necessarily lodged
the condition that they are only opposed to similar ones,
that is, that the enemy acts on the same principle.

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For if the enemy should choose the way of a
great decision by arms, our means must, on that account
be changed against our will in order to correspond with his.
Then all depends on the issue of the act of destruction.
But of course it is evident that ceteris paribus, in
this act we must be at a disadvantage in all respects,
because our views and our means have been directed in

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part upon other objects, which is not the case with
the enemy. Two different objects, of which one is not
part of the other, exclude each other, and therefore a
force which may be applicable for the one may not
serve for the other. If therefore, one of two belligerents
is determined to seek the great decision by arms, then
he has a high probability of success. As soon as

(01:14:37):
he is certain his opponent will not take that way,
but follows a different object. And every one who sets
before himself any such other aim only does so in
a reasonable manner, provided he acts on the supposition that
his adversary has as little intention as he has of
resorting to the great decision by arms. But what we
have here said of another direction of views and forces

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relates only to other positive objects which we may propose
to ourselves in war. Besides, the destruction of the enemy's force,
not by any means to the pure defensive, which may
be adopted with a view thereby to exhaust the enemy's forces.
In the pure defensive, the positive object is wanting, and therefore,
while on the defensive, our forces cannot at the same

(01:15:20):
time be directed on other objects. They can only be
employed to defeat the intentions of the enemy. We have
now to consider the opposite of the destruction of the
enemy's armed force, that is to say, the preservation of
our own. These two efforts always go together, as they
mutually act and react on each other. They are integral
parts of one and the same view, and we have

(01:15:42):
only to ascertain what effect is produced when one or
the other has the predominance the endeavor to destroy The
enemy's force has a positive object and leads to positive results,
of which the final aim is the conquest of the enemy.
The preservation of our own forces has a negative object.
Leads therefore to the defeat of the enemy's intentions, that is,

(01:16:03):
to pure resistance, of which the final aim can be
nothing more than to prolong the duration of the contest,
so that the enemy shall exhaust himself in it. The
effort with a positive object calls into existence the act
of destruction. The effort with the negative object awaits it.
How far this state of expectation should and may be carried,
we shall enter into more, particularly in the theory of

(01:16:25):
attack and defense, at the origin of which we again
find ourselves. Here we shall content ourselves with saying that
the awaiting must be no absolute endurance, and that in
the action bound up with it, the destruction of the
enemy's armed force engaged in this conflict may be the aim,
just as well as anything else. It would therefore be
a great error in the fundamental idea to suppose that

(01:16:46):
the consequence of the negative course is that we are
precluded from choosing the destruction of the enemy's military force
as our object, and must prefer a bloodless solution. The
advantage which the negative effort gives may certainly lead to that,
but only at the risk of its not being the
most advisable method, as that question is dependent on totally
different conditions, resting not with ourselves but with our opponents.

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This other bloodless way cannot therefore be looked upon at
all as the natural means of satisfying our great anxiety
to spare our forces. On the contrary, when circumstances are
not favorable, it would be the means of completely ruining them.
Very many generals have fallen into this error and been
ruined by it. The only necessary effect resulting from the

(01:17:32):
superiority of the negative effort is the delay of the decision,
so that the party acting takes refuge in that way,
as it were, in the expectation of the decisive moment.
The consequence of that is generally the postponement of the
action as much as possible in time and also in space,
in so far as space is in connection with it.

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If the moment has arrived in which this can no
longer be done without ruinous disadvantage, then the advantage of
the negative must be considered as exouts and then comes
forward unchanged the effort for the destruction of the enemy's force,
which was kept back by a counterpoise, but never discarded.
We have seen, therefore, in the foregoing reflections, that there

(01:18:13):
are many ways to the aim, that is, to the
attainment of the political object, but that the only means
is the combat, and that consequently everything is subject to
a supreme law, which is the decision by arms. That
where this is really demanded by one, it is a
redress which cannot be refused by the other. That therefore
a belligerent who takes any other way must make sure

(01:18:34):
that his opponent will not take this means of redress,
or his cause may be lost in that supreme court. Hence, therefore,
the destruction of the enemy's armed force, amongst all the
objects which can be pursued in war, appears always as
the one which overrules all others. What may be achieved
by combinations of another kind in war we shall only

(01:18:55):
learn in the sequel, and naturally only by degrees. We
contend ourselves here with acknowledging in general their possibility as
something pointing to the difference between the reality and the conception,
and to the influence of particular circumstances. But we could
not avoid showing at once that the bloody solution of
the crisis, the effort for the destruction of the enemy's force,

(01:19:17):
is the firstborn son of war. If when political objects
are unimportant, motives weak, the excitement of forces small, a
cautious commander tries, in all kinds of ways, without great
crises and bloody solutions, to twist himself skillfully into a
peace through the characteristic weaknesses of his enemy in a
field and in the cabinet. We have no right to

(01:19:38):
find fault with him if the premises on which he
acts are well founded and justified by success. Still, we
must require him to remember that he only travels on
forbidden tracts where the god of war may surprise him,
that he ought always to keep his eye on the
enemy in order that he may not have to defend
himself with a dress rapier if the enemy takes up

(01:19:59):
a sharp sword. The consequences of the nature of war,
how ends and means act in it, how in the
modifications of reality, it deviates, sometimes more, sometimes less from
its strict original conception, fluctuating backwards and forwards, yet always
remaining under that strict conception as under a supreme law.
All this we must retain before us and bear constantly

(01:20:21):
in mind in the consideration of each of the succeeding subjects,
if we would rightly comprehend their true relations and proper importance,
and not become involved incessantly in the most glaring contradictions
with the reality, and at last with our own selves.
Chapter three, The genius for war. Every special calling in life,

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if it is to be followed with success, requires peculiar
qualifications of understanding in soul. Where these are of a
high order and manifest themselves by extraordinary achievements, the mind
to which they belong is term genius. We know very
well that this word is us used in many significations
which are very different, both in extent and nature, and

(01:21:04):
that with many of these significations it is a very
difficult task to define the essence of genius. But as
we neither profess to be philosopher or grammarian, we must
be allowed to keep to the meaning usual in ordinary language,
and to understand by genius a very high mental capacity
for certain employments. We wish to stop for a moment

(01:21:24):
over this faculty and dignity of the mind in order
to vindicate its title and to explain more fully the
meaning of the conception. But we shall not dwell on
that genius which has obtained its title through a very
great talent. On genius properly so called, that is a
conception which has no defined limits. What we have to
do is to bring under consideration every common tendency of

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the powers of the mind and soul towards the business
of war, the whole of which common tendencies we may
look upon as the essence of military genius. We say common,
for just therein consists military genius. That it is not
one single quality bearing upon war, as for instance, courage,
while other qualities of mind and soul are wanting or

(01:22:09):
have a direction which is unserviceable for war. But that
it is an harmonious association of powers in which one
or other may predominate, but none must be in opposition.
If every combatant required to be more or less endowed
with military genius, then our armies would be very weak,
for as it implies a peculiar bent of the intelligent powers. Therefore,

(01:22:30):
it can only rarely be found where the mental powers
of a people are called into requisition and trained in
many different ways. The fewer the employments followed by a nation,
the more that of arms predominates so much, the more
prevalent will military genius also be found. But this merely
applies to its prevalence, by no means to its degree,

(01:22:50):
for that depends on the general state of intellectual culture
in the country. If we look at a wild warlike race,
then we find a warlike spirit in individual duels much
more common than in a civilized people, For in the
former almost every warrior possesses it, whilst in the civilized
whole masses are only carried away by it from necessity,
never by inclination. But amongst uncivilized people we never find

(01:23:14):
a really great general, and very seldom what we can
properly call a military genius, because that requires a development
of the intelligent powers, which cannot be found in an
uncivilized state. That a civilized people may also have a
warlike tendency and development is a matter of course. And
the more this is general, the more frequently also will
military spirit be found in individuals in their armies. Now,

(01:23:38):
as this coincides in such case with the higher degree
of civilization, therefore from such nations have issued forth the
most brilliant military exploits, as the Romans and the French
have exemplified. The greatest names in these and in all
other nations that have been renowned in war, belong strictly
to epochs of higher culture. From this we may infer

(01:23:59):
how great a share the intelligent powers have in superior
military genius. We shall now look more closely into this point.
War is the province of danger, and therefore courage, above
all things, is the first quality of a warrior. Courage
is of two kinds. First, physical courage or courage in
presence of danger to the person, and next moral courage

(01:24:22):
or courage before responsibility, whether it be before the judgment
seat of external authority or of the inner power the
conscience we only speak here of. The first. Courage before
danger to the person, again, is of two kinds. First,
it may be indifference to danger, whether proceeding from the
organism of the individual, contempt of death, or habit. In

(01:24:46):
any of these cases it is to be regarded as
a permanent condition. Secondly, courage may proceed from positive motives,
such as personal pride, patriotism, enthusiasm of any kind. In
this case, courage is not so much a normal condition
as an impulse. We may conceive that the two kinds
act differently. The first kind is more certain, because it

(01:25:10):
has become a second nature, never forsakes the man. The
second often leads him farther. In the first, there is
more of firmness in the second of boldness. The first
leaves the judgment cooler. The second raises its power at times,
but often bewilders it. The two combined make up the
most perfect kind of courage. War is the province of

(01:25:32):
physical exertion and suffering. In order not to be completely
overcome by them, a certain strength of body and mind
is required, which either natural or acquired, produces indifference to them.
With these qualifications, under the guidance of simply a sound understanding,
a man is at once a proper instrument for war.
And these are the qualifications so generally to be met

(01:25:55):
with amongst wild and half civilized tribes. If we go
further in the demand which war makes on its votaries,
than we find the powers of the understanding predominating. War
is the province of uncertainty. Three fourths of those things
upon which action in war must be calculated are hidden
more or less in the clouds of great uncertainty. Here, then,

(01:26:17):
above all, a fine and penetrating mind is called for
to search out the truth by the tact of its judgment.
An average intellect may at one time perhaps hit upon
this truth by accident. An extraordinary courage at another may
compensate for the want of this tact. But in the
majority of cases the average result will always bring to

(01:26:37):
light the deficient understanding. War is the province of chance.
In no sphere of human activity is such a margin
to be left for this intruder, because none is so
much in constant contact with him on all sides. He
increases the uncertainty of every circumstance and deranges the course
of events. From this uncertainty of all intelligence and suppositions.

(01:27:00):
This continual interposition of chance, the actor in war constantly
finds things different from his expectations, and this cannot fail
to have an influence on his plans, or at least
on the presumptions connected with these plans. If this influence
is so great as to render the predetermined plan completely nugatory,
then as a rule, a new one must be substituted

(01:27:22):
in its place. But at the moment the necessary data
are often wanting for this, because in the course of action,
circumstances press for immediate decision and allow no time to
look about for fresh data. Often not enough for mature consideration.
But it more often happens that the correction of one
premiss and the knowledge of chance events which have arisen

(01:27:42):
are not sufficient to overthrow our plans completely, but only
suffice to produce hesitation. Our knowledge of circumstances has increased,
but our uncertainty, instead of having diminished, has only increased.
The reason of this is that we do not gain
all our experience at once, but by degrees. Thus our
determinations continue to be assailed incessantly by fresh experience and

(01:28:06):
the mind, if we may use the expression, must always
be under arms now if it is to get safely
through this perpetual conflict with the unexpected, two qualities are indispensable.
In the first place, an intellect, which even in the
midst of this intense obscurity, is not without some traces
of inner light which lead to the truth, and then

(01:28:26):
the courage to follow this faint light. The first is
figuratively expressed by the French phrase coup di'oi. The other
is resolution. As the battle is the feature in war
to which attention was originally chiefly directed, and as time
and space are important elements in it, more particularly when cavalry,
with their rapid decisions, were the chief arm. The idea

(01:28:48):
of rapid and correct decision related in the first instance
to the estimation of these two elements, and to denote
the idea and expression was adopted which actually only points
to a correct judgment by eye. Many teachers of the
art of war then gave this limited signification as the
definition of coup d oi. But it is undeniable that
all able decisions formed in the moment of action soon

(01:29:11):
came to be understood by the expression, as for instance,
the hitting upon the right point of attack and c.
It is therefore not only the physical, but more frequently
the mental eye which is meant in kud oi. Naturally,
the expression like the thing is always more in its
place in the field of tactics. Still, it must not

(01:29:32):
be wanting in strategy, inasmuch as in it rapid decisions
are often necessary. If we strip this conception of that
which the expression has given it, of the over figurative
and restricted, then it amounts simply to the rapid discovery
of a truth which to the ordinary mind is either
not visible at all or only becomes so after long
examination and reflection. Resolution is an act of courage in

(01:29:55):
single instances, and if it becomes a characteristic trait, it
is a habit of the mind. But here we do
not mean courage in face of bodily danger, but in
face of responsibility. Therefore, to a certain extent, against moral danger.
This has been often called courage desprit on the ground
that it springs from the understanding. Nevertheless, it is no

(01:30:16):
act of the understanding. On that account, it is an
act of feeling. Mere intelligence is still not courage, for
we often see the cleverest people devoid of resolution. The
mind must therefore first awaken the feeling of courage, and
then be guided and supported by it, Because in momentary
emergencies the man is swayed more by his feelings than

(01:30:37):
his thoughts. We have assigned to resolution the office of
removing the torments of doubt and the dangers of delay
when there are no sufficient motives for guidance through the
inscrupulous use of language, which is prevalent. This term is
often applied to the mere propensity, to daring, to bravery, boldness,
or temerity. But when there are sufficient motives in the man,

(01:30:59):
lets let them be objective or subjective, true or false.
We have no right to speak of his resolution, for
when we do so, we put ourselves in his place,
and we throw into the scale doubts which did not
exist with him. Here there is no question of anything
but of strength and weakness. We are not pedantic enough
to dispute with the use of language about this little misapplication.

(01:31:23):
Our observation is only intended to remove wrong objections. This resolution, now,
which overcomes the state of doubting, can only be called
forth by the intellect, and in fact by a peculiar
tendency of the same. We maintain that the mere union
of a superior understanding and the necessary feelings are not
sufficient to make up resolution. There are persons who possess

(01:31:46):
the keenest perception for the most difficult problems, who are
also not fearful of responsibility, and yet, in cases of difficulty,
cannot come to a resolution. Their courage and their sagacity
operate independently of each other, do not give each other
a hand, and on that account, do not produce resolution.
As a result, the forerunner of resolution is an act

(01:32:08):
of the mind, making evident the necessity of venturing, and
thus influencing the will. This quite peculiar direction of the mind,
which conquers every other fear in man, by the fear
of wavering or doubting, is what makes up resolution in
strong minds. Therefore, in our opinion, men who have little
intelligence can never be resolute. They may act without hesitation

(01:32:30):
under perplexing circumstances, but then they act without reflection. Now,
of course, when a man acts without reflection, he cannot
be at variance with himself by doubts, and such a
mode of action may now and then lead to the
right point. But we say now, as before, it is
the average result which indicates the existence of military genius.

(01:32:51):
Should our assertion appear extraordinary to any one, because he
knows many a resolute husar officer who is no deep thinker,
we must remind him that the question he is about
a peculiar direction of the mind, and not about great
thinking powers. We believe, therefore, that resolution is indebted to
a special direction of the mind for its existence, a

(01:33:11):
direction which belongs to a strong head rather than to
a brilliant one. In corroboration of this, genealogy of resolution.
We may add that there have been many instances of
men who have shown the greatest resolution in an inferior rank,
and have lost it in a higher position. While on
the one hand they are obliged to resolve, on the
other they see the dangers of a wrong decision, and

(01:33:33):
as they are surrounded with things new to them, their
understanding loses its original force, and they become only the
more timid, the more they become aware of the danger
of the irresolution into which they have fallen, and the
more they have formerly been in the habit of acting
on the spur of the moment. From the coup dioi
and resolution, we are naturally led to speak of its
kindred quality, presence of mind, which, in a region of

(01:33:55):
the unexpected, like war, must act a great part, for
it is indeed nothing but a great conquest over the unexpected.
As we admire presence of mind in a pithy answer
to anything said unexpectedly, so we admire it in a
ready expedient on sudden danger. Neither the answer or the
expedient need be in themselves extraordinary, if they only hit

(01:34:16):
the point for that which, as the result of mature
reflection would be nothing unusual, therefore insignificant in its impression
on us, may, as an instantaneous act of the mind,
produce a pleasing impression. The expression presence of mind certainly
denotes very fitly the readiness and rapidity of the help
rendered by the mind. Whether this noble quality of a

(01:34:37):
man is to be ascribed more to the peculiarity of
his mind or to the equanimity of his feelings depends
on the nature of the case. Although neither of the
two can be entirely wanting, a telling repartee bespeaks rather
a ready wit. A ready expedient on sudden danger, implies
more particularly a well balanced mind. If we take a
general view of the four elements composing the atmosphere in

(01:35:00):
which war moves of danger, physical effort, uncertainty, and chance,
it is easy to conceive that a great force of
mind and understanding is requisite to be able to make
way with safety and success amongst such opposing elements, a
force which, according to the different modifications arising out of circumstances,
we find termed by military writers and analysts as energy, firmness, staunchness,

(01:35:24):
strength of mind end character All these manifestations of the
heroic nature might be regarded as one and the same
power of volition, modified according to circumstances. But nearly related
as these things are to each other, still they are
not one and the same, and it is desirable for
us to distinguish here a little more closely, at least

(01:35:45):
the action of the powers of the soul in relation
to them. In the first place, to make the conception clear,
it is essential to observe that the weight, burden resistance,
or whatever it may be called, by which that force
of the soul in the general is brought to light,
is only in a very small measure the enemy's activity.
The enemy's resistance the enemy's action directly. The enemy's activity

(01:36:08):
only affects the general directly in the first place, in
relation to his person, without disturbing his action as commander.
If the enemy, instead of two hours, resists for four
the commander instead of two hours, is four hours in danger.
This is a quantity which plainly diminishes the higher the
rank of the commander. What is it for one in

(01:36:29):
the post of commander in chief? It is nothing. Secondly,
although the opposition offered by the enemy has a direct
effect on the commander through the loss of means arising
from prolonged resistance, and the responsibility connected with that loss,
and his force of will is first tested and called
forth by these anxious considerations. Still we maintain that this

(01:36:50):
is not the heaviest burden by far which he has
to bear, because he has only himself to settle with.
All the other effects of the enemy's resistance act directly
upon the combatants under his command, and through them react
upon him. As long as his men, full of good courage,
fight with zeal and spirit, it is seldom necessary for
the chief to show great energy of purpose in the

(01:37:12):
pursuit of his object. But as soon as difficulties arise,
and that must always happen when great results are at stake,
then things no longer move on of themselves, like a
well oiled machine. The machine itself then begins to offer resistance,
and to overcome this the commander must have a great
force of will. By this resistance. We must not exactly

(01:37:32):
suppose disobedience and murmurs, although these are frequent enough with
particular individuals. It is the whole feeling of the dissolution
of all physical and moral power. It is the heartrending
sight of the bloody sacrifice which the commander has to
contend within himself, and then in all others who directly
or indirectly transfer to him their impressions, feelings, anxieties, and desires.

(01:37:55):
As the forces in one individual after another become prostrated
and can no long longer be excited and supported by
an effort of his own will, the whole inertia of
the mass gradually rests its weight on the will of
the commander, by the spark in his breast, by the
light of his spirit, the spark of purpose, the light
of hope, must be kindled afresh in others. In so
far only as he is equal to this, he stands

(01:38:18):
above the masses and continues to be their master. Whenever
that influence ceases, and his own spirit is no longer
strong enough to revive the spirit of all others, the masses,
drawing him down with them, sink into the lower region
of animal nature, which shrinks from danger and knows not shame.
These are the weights which the courage and intelligent faculties

(01:38:39):
of the military commander have to overcome if he is
to make his name illustrious. They increase with the masses
and Therefore, if the forces in question are to continue
equal to the burden, they must rise in proportion to
the height of the station. Energy in action expresses the
strength of the motive through which the action is excited.
Let the motive have its own origin in a conviction

(01:39:01):
of the understanding, or in an impulse. But the latter
can hardly ever be wanting where great force is to
show itself. Of all the noble feelings which fill the
human heart in the exciting tumult of battle, none we
must admit, are so powerful and constant as the soul's
thirst for honor and renown, which the German language treats

(01:39:21):
so unfairly and tends to depreciate by the unworthy associations
in the words Urgius, greed of honor and rumsucked hankering
after glory. No doubt, it is just in war that
the abuse of these proud aspirations of the soul must
bring upon the human race the most shocking outrages. But
by their origin they are certainly to be counted amongst

(01:39:41):
the noblest feelings which belong to human nature, And in
war they are the vivifying principle which gives the enormous
body a spirit. Although other feelings may be more general
in their influence, and many of them, such as love
of country, fanaticism, revenge, enthusiasm of every kind, may seem
to stand higher, the thirst for honor and renown still

(01:40:03):
remains indispensable. Those other feelings may rouse the great masses
in general and excite them more powerfully, but they do
not give the leader a desire to will more than others,
which is an essential requisite in his position if he
is to make himself distinguished in it. They do not,
like a thirst for honor, make the military act specially

(01:40:23):
the property of the leader, which he strives to turn
to the best account, where he plows with toil, sows
with care, that he may reap plentifully. It is through
these aspirations we have been speaking of in commanders, from
the highest to the lowest, this sort of energy, this
spirit of emulation, these incentives, that the action of armies
is chiefly animated and made successful. And now, as to

(01:40:46):
that which specially concerns the head of all, we ask,
has there ever been a great commander destitute of the
love of honor? Or? Is such a character even conceivable?
Firmness denotes the resistance of the will in relation to
the force of a single blow, staunchness in relation to
a continuance of blows. Close as is the analogy between
the two, and often as the one is used in

(01:41:09):
place of the other, still there is a notable difference
between them which cannot be mistaken. Inasmuch as firmness against
a single powerful impression may have its root in the
mere strength of a feeling, but staunchness must be supported
rather by the understanding. For the greater the duration of
an action, the more systematic deliberation is connected with it,
and from this staunchness partly derives its power. If we

(01:41:32):
now turn to strength of mind or soul, then the
first question is what are we to understand thereby? Plainly,
it is not vehement expressions of feeling, nor easily excited passions,
for that would be contrary to all the usage of language.
But the power of listening to reason in the midst
of the most intense excitement, in the storm of the
most violent passions. Should this power depend on strength of

(01:41:55):
understanding alone, we doubt it. The fact that there are
men of the greatest intellect who cannot command themselves certainly
proves nothing to the contrary. For we might say that
it perhaps requires an understanding of a powerful rather than
of a comprehensive nature. But we believe we shall be
nearer the truth if we assume that the power of
submitting oneself to the control of the understanding, even in

(01:42:17):
moments of the most violent excitement of the feelings, that power,
which we call self command, has its root in the
heart itself. It is, in point of fact, another feeling
which in strong minds balances the excited passions without destroying them,
And it is only through this equilibrium that the mastery
of the understanding is secured. This counterpoise is nothing but

(01:42:40):
a sense of the dignity of man, that noblest pride,
that deeply seated desire of the soul always to act
as a being endued with understanding and reason. We may
therefore say that a strong mind is one which does
not lose its balance even under the most violent excitement.
If we cast a glance at the variety to be
observed in the human case character in respect to feeling,

(01:43:01):
we find first some people who have very little excitability,
who are called phlegmatic or indolent. Secondly, some very excitable,
but whose feelings still never overstep certain limits, and who
are therefore known as men full of feeling but sober minded. Thirdly,
those who are very easily roused, whose feelings blaze up

(01:43:23):
quickly and violently like gunpowder, but do not last. Fourthly,
and lastly, those who cannot be moved by slight causes,
and who generally are not to be roused suddenly, but
only gradually, but whose feelings become very powerful and are
much more lasting. These are men with strong passions, lying
deep and latent. This difference of character lies probably close

(01:43:46):
on the confines of the physical powers which move the
human organism, and belongs to that amphibious organization which we
call the nervous system, which appears to be partly material,
partly spiritual. With our weak philosophy, we shall not proceed
further in this mysterious field. But it is important for
us to spend a moment over the effects which these

(01:44:07):
different natures have on action in war, and to see
how far a great strength of mind is to be
expected from them. Indolent men cannot easily be thrown out
of their equanimity, But we cannot certainly say there is
strength of mind where there is a want of all
manifestation of power. At the same time, it is not
to be denied that such men have a certain peculiar

(01:44:27):
aptitude for war on account of their constant equanimity. They
often want the positive motive to action, impulse and consequently activity,
but they are not apt to throw things into disorder.
The peculiarity of the second class is that they are
easily excited to act on trifling grounds, but in great
matters they are easily overwhelmed. Men of this kind show

(01:44:50):
great activity in helping an unfortunate individual, but by the
distress of a whole nation, they are only inclined to despond,
not roused to action. Such pep people are not deficient
in either activity or equanimity in war, but they will
never accomplish anything great unless a great intellectual force furnishes
the motive. And it is very seldom that a strong,

(01:45:10):
independent mind is combined with such a character. Excitable, inflammable
feelings are in themselves little suited for practical life, and
therefore they are not very fit for war. They have
certainly the advantage of strong impulses, but that cannot long
sustain them. At the same time, if the excitability in

(01:45:30):
such men takes the direction of courage or a sense
of honor. They may often be very useful in inferior
positions in war, because the action in war over which
commanders in inferior positions have control is generally of shorter duration. Here,
one courageous resolution, one effervescence of the forces of the soul,
will often suffice a brave attack. A soul stirring hurrah

(01:45:54):
is the work of a few moments, whilst a brave
contest on the battle field is the work of a day,
and the campaign the work of a year. Owing to
the rapid movement of their feelings, it is doubly difficult
for men of this description to preserve equilibrium of the mind.
Therefore they frequently lose head, and that is the worst
phase in their nature as respects the conduct of war.

(01:46:15):
But it would be contrary to experience to maintain that
very excitable spirits can never preserve a steady equilibrium, that
is to say that they cannot do so even under
the strongest excitement. Why should they not have the sentiment
of self respect, For as a rule they are men
of a noble nature. This feeling is seldom wanting in them,

(01:46:36):
but it has not time to produce an effect. After
an outburst, they suffer most from a feeling of inward humiliation.
If through education, self observance, and experience of life, they
have learned sooner or later the means of being on
their guard, so that at the moment of powerful excitement
they are conscious betimes of the counteracting force within their

(01:46:57):
own breasts, then even such men may have great stress
of mind. Lastly, those who are difficult to move, but
on that account susceptible of very deep feelings. Men who
stand in the same relation to the preceding as red
heat to a flame are the best adapted, by means
of their titanic strength, to roll away the enormous masses
by which we may figuratively represent the difficulties which beset

(01:47:19):
command in war. The effect of their feelings is like
the movement of a great body, slower but more irresistible.
Although such men are not so likely to be suddenly
surprised by their feelings and carried away so as to
be afterwards ashamed of themselves like the preceding, still, it
would be contrary to experience to believe that they can
never lose their equanimity or be overcome by blind passion.

(01:47:43):
On the contrary, this must always happen whenever the noble
pride of self control is wanting, or as often as
it has not sufficient weight. We see examples of this
most frequently in men of noble minds belonging to savage nations,
where the low degree of mental cultivation favors always is
the dominance of the passions. But even amongst the most

(01:48:03):
civilized classes in civilized states, life is full of examples
of this kind of men carried away by the violence
of their passions, like the poacher of old change to
the stag in the forest. We therefore say once more,
a strong mind is not one that is merely susceptible
of strong excitement, but one which can maintain its serenity
under the most powerful excitement, so that, in spite of

(01:48:26):
the storm in the breast, the perception in judgment can
act with perfect freedom, like the needle of the compass
in the storm tossed ship. By the term strength of
character or simply character, is denoted tenacity of conviction. Let
it be the result of our own or of others views,
and whether they are principles, opinions, momentary inspirations, or any

(01:48:47):
kind of emanations of the understanding. But this kind of
firmness certainly cannot manifest itself if the views themselves are
subject to frequent change. This frequent change need not be
the consequence of external influence. It may proceed from the
continuous activity of our own mind, in which case it
indicates a characteristic unsteadiness of mind. Evidently, we should not

(01:49:09):
say of a man who changes his views every moment,
however much the motives of change may originate with himself,
that he has character Only those men, therefore, can be
said to have this quality whose conviction is very constant,
either because it is deeply rooted and clear in itself,
little liable to alteration, or because, as in the case

(01:49:30):
of indolent men, there is a want of mental activity
and therefore a want of motives to change. Or lastly,
because an explicit act of the will, derived from an
imperative maxim of the understanding, refuses any change of opinion
up to a certain point. Now, in war, owing to
the many and powerful impressions to which the mind is exposed,

(01:49:50):
and in the uncertainty of all knowledge and of all science,
more things occur to distract a man from the road
he has entered upon to make him doubt himself and
others than in any other other human activity. The harrowing
sight of danger in suffering easily leads to the feelings
gaining ascendency over the conviction of the understanding. And in
the twilight which surrounds everything, a deep, clear view is

(01:50:12):
so difficult that a change of opinion is more conceivable
and more pardonable. It is at all times only conjecture
or guesses at truth, which we have to act upon.
This is why differences of opinion are nowhere so great
as in war, and the stream of impressions acting counter
to one's own convictions never ceases to flow. Even the

(01:50:34):
greatest impassibility of mind is hardly proof against them, because
the impressions are powerful in their nature and always act
at the same time upon the feelings. When the discernment
is clear and deep, none but general principles and views
of action from a high standpoint can be the result.
And on these principles the opinion in each particular case

(01:50:54):
immediately under consideration lies as it were at anchor. But
to keep to these resus results of bygone reflection in
opposition to the stream of opinions and phenomena which the
present brings with it is just the difficulty between the
particular case and the principle. There is often a wide
space which cannot always be traversed on a visible chain

(01:51:15):
of conclusions, and where a certain faith in self is
necessary and a certain amount of skepticism is serviceable. Here
often nothing else will help us but an imperative maxim, which,
independent of reflection, at once controls it. That maxim is
in all doubtful cases, to adhere to the first opinion,
and not to give it up until a clear conviction

(01:51:35):
forces us to do so. We must firmly believe in
the superior authority of well tried maxims, and under the
dazzling influence of momentary events, not forget that their value
is of an inferior stamp. By this preference, which in
doubtful cases we give to first convictions, by adherence to
the same, our actions acquire that stability and consistency which

(01:51:57):
make up what is called character. It is easy to
see how essential a well balanced mind is to strength
of character. Therefore, men of strong minds generally have a
great deal of character. Force of character leads us to
a spurious variety of it obstinacy. It is often very
difficult in concrete cases to say where the one ends

(01:52:18):
and the other begins. On the other hand, it does
not seem difficult to determine the difference in idea. Obstinacy
is no fault of the understanding. We use the term
as denoting a resistance against our better judgment, and it
would be inconsistent to charge that to the understanding, as
the understanding is the power of judgment. Obstinacy is a

(01:52:38):
fault of the feelings or heart. This inflexibility of will,
this impatience of contradiction, have their origin only in a
particular kind of egotism, which sets above every other pleasure,
that of governing both self and others by its own
mind alone. We should call it a kind of vanity,
were it not decidedly something better. Vanity is satisfied with

(01:53:00):
mere show. But obstinacy rests upon the enjoyment of the thing.
We say. Therefore, force of character degenerates into obstinacy whenever
the resistance to opposing judgments proceeds not from better convictions
or a reliance upon a more trustworthy maxim but from
a feeling of opposition. If this definition, as we have
already admitted, is of little assistance practically, still it will

(01:53:24):
prevent obstinacy from being considered merely force of character intensified,
whilst it is something essentially different, something which certainly lies
close to it, and is cognate to it, but is
at the same time so little an intensification of it,
that there are very obstinate men who, from want of understanding,
have very little force of character. Having in these high
attributes of a great military commander, made ourselves acquainted with

(01:53:47):
those qualities in which heart and head co operate, we
now come to a speciality of military activity, which perhaps
may be looked upon as the most marked, if it
is not the most important, and which only makes a
demand on the power of the mind mind, without regard
to the forces of feelings. It is the connection which
exists between war and country or ground. This connection is,

(01:54:09):
in the first place, a permanent condition of war, for
it is impossible to imagine our organized armies affecting any
operation otherwise than in some given space. It is secondly
of the most decisive importance, because it modifies, at times
completely alters the action of all forces. Thirdly, while on
the one hand, it often concerns the most minute features

(01:54:31):
of locality. On the other, it may apply to immense
tracts of country. In this manner, a great peculiarity is
given to the effect of this connection of war with
country and ground. If we think of other occupations of
man which have a relation to these objects, on horticulture, agriculture,
on building houses and hydraulic works, on mining, on the chase,

(01:54:53):
and forestry, they are all confined within very limited spaces,
which may be soon explored with sufficient exactness. But the
commander in war must commit the business he has in
hand to a corresponding space, which is i cannot survey,
which the keenest zeal cannot always explore, and with which,
owing to the constant changes taking place, he can also

(01:55:13):
seldom become properly acquainted. Certainly, the enemy generally is in
the same situation. Still, in the first place, the difficulty,
although common to both, is not the less a difficulty,
and he who, by talent and practice overcomes it will
have a great advantage on his side. Secondly, this equality
of the difficulty on both sides is merely an abstract

(01:55:35):
supposition which is rarely realized. In a particular case, as
one of the two opponents, the defensive usually knows much
more of the locality than his adversary. This very peculiar
difficulty must be overcome by a natural mental gift of
a special kind, which is known by the too restricted
term of ort chin sense of locality. It is the

(01:55:57):
power of quickly forming a correct geometrical idea of any
portion of country, and consequently of being able to find
one's place in it exactly at any time. This is
plainly an act of the imagination. The perception, no doubt,
is formed partly by means of the physical eye, partly
by the mind, which fills up what is wanting with
ideas derived from knowledge and experience, and out of the

(01:56:20):
fragments visible to the physical eye forms a whole. But
that this hole should present itself vividly to the reason,
should become a picture, a mentally drawn map. That this
picture should be fixed, that the details should never again
separate themselves. All that can only be affected by the
mental faculty, which we call imagination. If some great poet

(01:56:41):
or painter should feel hurt that we require from his
Goddess such an office. If he shrugs his shoulders at
the notion that a sharp gamekeeper must necessarily excel in imagination.
We readily grant that we only speak here of imagination
in a limited sense, of its service in a really
menial capacity. But however slight this so ser still it
must be the work of that natural gift, For if

(01:57:03):
that gift is wanting, it would be difficult to imagine
things plainly in all the completeness of the visible. That
a good memory is a great assistance we freely allow.
But whether memory is to be considered as an independent
faculty of the mind in this case, or whether it
is just that power of imagination which here fixes these
things better on the memory, we leave undecided. As in

(01:57:25):
many respects, it seems difficult upon the whole to conceive
these two mental powers apart from each other. That practice
and mental acuteness have much to do with it is
not to be denied. Pisger, the celebrated Quartermaster General of
the famous Luxembourg, used to say that he had very
little confidence in himself in this respect at first, because
if he had to fetch the parole from a distance,

(01:57:47):
he always lost his way. It is natural that scope
for the exercise of this talent should increase along with rank.
If the hussar and riflemen in command of a patrol
must know well all the highways and byways, and if
for that of few marks, a few limited powers of
observation are sufficient, the chief of an army must make
himself familiar with the general geographical features of a province

(01:58:10):
and of a country, must always have vividly before his
eyes the direction of the roads, rivers and hills, without
at the same time being able to dispense with the
narrower sense of locality or chin. No doubt, information of
various kinds as to objects in general, maps, books, memoirs,
and for details the assistance of his staff are a

(01:58:32):
great help to him. But it is nevertheless certain that
if he has himself a talent for forming an ideal
picture of a country quickly and distinctly, it lends to
his action an easier and firmer step, saves him from
a certain mental helplessness, and makes him less dependent on others.
If this talent, then is to be ascribed to imagination,
it is also almost the only service which military activity

(01:58:54):
requires from that erratic goddess whose influence is more hurtful
than useful in other respects. We think we have now
passed and review those manifestations of the powers of mind
and soul which military activity requires from human nature. Everywhere
intellect appears as an essential cooperative force, and thus we
can understand how the work of war, although so plain

(01:59:16):
and simple in its effects, can never be conducted with
distinguished success by people without distinguished powers of the understanding.
When we have reached this view, then we need no
longer look upon such a natural idea as the turning
an enemy's position, which has been done a thousand times
and a hundred other similar conceptions, as the result of
a great effort of genius. Certainly, one is accustomed to

(01:59:40):
regard the plain, honest soldier as the very opposite of
the man of reflection, full of inventions and ideas, or
of the brilliant spirit shining in the ornaments of refined
education of every kind. This antithesis is also, by no
means devoid of truth. But it does not show that
the efficiency of the soldier consists only in his courage,
and that there is no particular energy and capacity of

(02:00:03):
the brain required in addition to make a man merely
what is called a true soldier. We must again repeat
that there is nothing more common than to hear of
men losing their energy on being raised to a higher
position to which they do not feel themselves equal. But
we must also remind our readers that we are speaking
of pre eminent services, of such as give renown in
the branch of activity to which they belong. Each grade

(02:00:26):
of command in war therefore forms its own stratum of
requisite capacity of fame and honor. An immense space lies
between a general that is one at the head of
a whole war or of a theater of war, and
is second in command, for the simple reason that the
latter is in more immediate subordination to a superior authority
in supervision, consequently is restricted to a more limited sphere

(02:00:49):
of independent thought. This is why common opinion sees no
room for the exercise of high talent except in high places,
and looks upon an ordinary capacity as sufficient for all
all beneath. This is why people are rather inclined to
look upon a subordinate general grown gray in the service,
and in whom constant discharge of routine duties has produced
a decided poverty of mind, as a man of failing intellect,

(02:01:13):
and with all respect for his bravery, to laugh at
his simplicity. It is not our object to gain for
these brave men of better lot, that would contribute nothing
to their efficiency and little to their happiness. We only
wish to represent things as they are, and to expose
the error of believing that a mere bravo without intellect
can make himself distinguished in war. As we consider distinguished

(02:01:36):
talents requisite for those who are to attain distinction even
in inferior positions, it naturally follows that we think highly
of those who fill with renown the place of second
in command of an army, and their seeming simplicity of
character as compared with a polyhister, with ready men of business,
or with counselors of state, must not lead us astray
as to the superior nature of their intellectual activity. It

(02:01:59):
happens some times that men import the fame gained in
an inferior position into a higher one, without in reality
deserving it in the new position. And then if they
are not much employed and therefore not much exposed to
the risk of showing their weak points, the judgment does
not distinguish very exactly what degree of fame is really
due to them. And thus such men are often the

(02:02:20):
occasion of too low an estimate being formed of the
characteristics required to shine in certain situations for each station,
from the lowest upwards. To render distinguished services in war,
there must be a particular genius. But the title of
genius history and the judgment of posterity only confer in
general on those minds which have shown in the highest

(02:02:42):
rank that of commanders in chief. The reason is that here,
in point of fact, the demand on the reasoning and
intellectual powers generally is much greater. To conduct a whole
war or its great acts, which we call campaigns, to
a successful termination, there must be an intimate knowledge of
state policy in its higher relations. The conduct of the

(02:03:04):
war and the policy of the state here coincide, and
the general becomes at the same time the statesman. We
do not give Charles the twelfth the name of a
great genius, because he could not make the power of
his sword subservient to a higher judgment, and philosophy could
not attain by it to a glorious object. We do
not give that title to Henry the fourth of France,

(02:03:28):
because he did not live long enough to set it rest.
The relations of different states by his military activity, and
to occupy himself in that higher field where noble feelings
and a chivalrous disposition have less to do in mastering
the enemy than an overcoming internal dissension. In order that
the reader may appreciate all that must be comprehended and
judged of correctly at a glance by a general, we

(02:03:50):
refer to the first chapter. We say the general becomes
a statesman, but he must not cease to be the general.
He takes into view all the relation of the state
on the one hand, On the other, he must know
exactly what he can do with the means at his disposal,
as the diversity and undefined limits of all the circumstances

(02:04:11):
bring a great number of factors into consideration in war,
as the most of these factors can only be estimated
according to probability. Therefore, if the chief of an army
does not bring to bear upon them a mind with
an intuitive perception of the truth, a confusion of ideas
and views must take place in the midst of which
the judgment will become bewildered. In this sense, Buonaparte was

(02:04:33):
right when he said that many of the questions which
come before a general for decision, would make problems for
a mathematical calculation not unworthy of the powers of Newton
or Oiler. What is here required from the higher powers
of the mind is a sense of unity and a
judgment raised to such a compass as to give the
mind an extraordinary faculty of vision, which in its range

(02:04:53):
allays and sets aside a thousand dim notions which an
ordinary understanding could only bring to light with great effort,
and over which it would exhaust itself. But this higher
activity of the mind, this glance of genius, would still
not become matter of history if the qualities of temperament
and character of which we have treated did not give
it their support. Truth alone is but a weak motive

(02:05:16):
of action with men, and hence there is always a
great difference between knowing and action, between science and art.
The man receives the strongest impulse to action through the
feelings and the most powerful succor, if we may use
the expression through those faculties of heart and mind which
we have considered under the terms of resolution, firmness, perseverance,

(02:05:37):
and force of character. If, however, this elevated condition of
heart and mind in the general did not manifest itself
in the general effects resulting from it, and could only
be accepted on trust and faith. Then it would rarely
become matter of history. All that becomes known of the
course of events in war is usually very simple, and
has a great sameness in appearance. No one, on the

(02:06:00):
mere relation of such events perceives the difficulties connected with
them which had to be overcome. It is only now
and again, in the memoirs of generals or of those
in their confidence, or by reason of some special historical
inquiry directed to a particular circumstance, that a portion of
the many threads composing the whole web is brought to light.

(02:06:20):
The reflections, mental doubts and conflicts which precede the execution
of great acts are purposely concealed because they affect political interests,
or the recollection of them is accidentally lost because they
have been looked upon as mere scaffolding which had to
be removed on the completion of the building. If now
in conclusion, without venturing upon a closer definition of the

(02:06:42):
higher powers of the soul, we should admit a distinction
in the intelligent faculties themselves according to the common ideas
established by language, and ask ourselves what kind of mind
comes closest to military genius. Then a look at the subject,
as well as at experience, will tell us that searching
rather than inventive minds, minds rather than such as have
a special bent, cool rather than fiery heads, are those

(02:07:06):
to which, in time of war we should prefer to
trust the welfare of our women and children, the honor
and the safety of our fatherland, Chapter four of danger
in war. Usually, before we have learnt what danger really is,
we form an idea of it which is rather attractive
than repulsive, in the intoxication of enthusiasm to fall upon

(02:07:27):
the enemy at the charge. Who cares then about bullets
and men falling to throw oneself blinded by excitement for
a moment against cold death, uncertain whether we or another
shall escape him, and all this close to the golden
gate of victory, close to the rich fruit which ambition
thirsts for. Can this be difficult? It will not be difficult,

(02:07:48):
And still less will it appear so. But such moments, which, however,
are not the work of a single post beat, as
is supposed, but rather like doctor's drafts, must be taken
diluted in space, boiled by mixture with time, such moments,
we say, are but few. Let us accompany the novice
to the battle field. As we approach, the thunder of

(02:08:10):
the cannon becoming plainer and plainer, is soon followed by
the howling of shot, which attracts the attention of the inexperienced.
Balls begin to strike the ground close to us before
and behind we hasten to the hill where stands the
general and his numerous staff. Here, the close striking of
the cannon balls and the bursting of shells is so

(02:08:31):
frequent that the seriousness of life makes itself visible through
the youthful picture of imagination. Suddenly, some one known to
us falls, A shell strikes amongst the crowd and causes
some involuntary movements. We begin to feel that we are
no longer perfectly at ease and collected. Even the bravest
is at least to some degree confused. Now a step

(02:08:52):
farther into the battle which is raging before us like
a scene in a theater, we get to the nearest
general of division. Here, ball follows ball, and the noise
of our own guns increases the confusion from the General
of division to the brigadier. He a man of acknowledged
bravery keeps carefully behind a rising ground, a house, or

(02:09:12):
a tree, a sure sign of increasing danger. Grape rattles
on the roofs of the houses, and in the fields.
Cannon balls howl over us and plow the air in
all directions, and soon there is a frequent whistling of
musket balls a step farther towards the troops, to that
sturdy infantry which for hours has maintained its firmness under

(02:09:32):
this heavy fire. Here the air is filled with the
hissing of balls, which announce their proximity by a short,
sharp noise as they pass within an inch of the ear,
the head, or the breast. To add to all this
compassion strikes the beating heart with pity at the sight
of the maimed and fallen. The young soldier cannot reach
any of these different strata of danger without feeling that

(02:09:54):
the light of reason does not move here in the
same medium, that it is not refracted in the same
manner as inspects contemplation. Indeed, he must be a very
extraordinary man who, under these impressions for the first time,
does not lose the power of making any instantaneous decisions.
It is true that habits soon blunts such impressions. In

(02:10:15):
half an hour, we begin to be more or less
indifferent to all that is going on around us. But
an ordinary character never attains to complete coolness and the
natural elasticity of mind. And so we perceive that here again,
ordinary qualities will not suffice a thing which gains truth.
The wider the sphere of activity which is to be
filled enthusiastic, stoical, natural bravery, great ambition, or also long

(02:10:39):
familiarity with danger, Much of all this there must be,
if all the effects produced in this resistant medium are
not to fall far short of that which in the
student's chamber may appear only the ordinary standard. Danger in
war belongs to its friction. A correct idea of its
influence is necessary for truth of perception, and therefore it
is brought under notice here Chapter five of Bodily Exertion

(02:11:03):
in War. If no one were allowed to pass an
opinion on the events of war except at a moment
when he has benumbed by frost, sinking from heat and thirst,
or dying with hunger and fatigue, we should certainly have
fewer judgments correct objectively, But they would be so subjectively
at least that is they would contain in themselves the

(02:11:23):
exact relation between the person giving the judgment and the object.
We can perceive this by observing how modestly subdued, even
spiritless and desponding, is the opinion passed upon the results
of untoward events by those who have been eye witnesses,
but especially if they have been parties concerned. This is,
according to our view, a criterion of the influence which

(02:11:45):
bodily fatigue exercises, and of the allowance to be made
for it in matters of opinion. Amongst the many things
in war for which no tariff can be fixed, bodily
effort may be specially reckoned, provided there is no waste.
It is a coefficient of all the forces, and no
one can tell exactly to what extent it may be carried.

(02:12:06):
But what is remarkable is that just as only a
strong arm enables the archer to stretch the bowstring to
the utmost extent, so also in war. It is only
by means of a great directing spirit that we can
expect the full power latent in the troops to be developed.
For it is one thing if an army, in consequence
of great misfortunes, surrounded with danger falls all to pieces,

(02:12:27):
like a wall that has been thrown down, and can
only find safety in the utmost exertion of its bodily strength.
It is another thing entirely when a victorious army, drawn
on by proud feelings only is conducted at the will
of its chief. The same effort, which in the one
case might at most excite our pity, must in the
other call forth our admiration, because it is much more

(02:12:49):
difficult to sustain by This comes to light for the
inexperienced by one of those things which put fetters in
the dark, as it were, on the action of the mind,
and where out in secret the powers of the soul.
Although here the question is strictly only respecting the extreme
effort required by a commander from his army, by a
leader from his followers. Therefore of the spirit to demand

(02:13:11):
it and of the art of getting it, still, the
personal physical exertion of generals and of the chief commander
must not be overlooked. Having brought the analysis of war
conscientiously up to this point, we could not but take
account also of the weight of this small remaining residue.
We have spoken here of bodily effort chiefly because, like danger,

(02:13:31):
it belongs to the fundamental causes of friction, and because
its indefinite quantity makes it like an elastic body, the
friction of which is well known to be difficult to calculate.
To check the abuse of these considerations of such a
survey of things which aggravate the difficulties of war, nature
has given our judgment a guide in our sensibilities. Just

(02:13:52):
as an individual cannot, with advantage refer to his personal
deficiencies if he has insulted, dna ill treated, but may
well do so if he has successfully repelled the affront
or has fully revenged it. So no commander or army
will lessen the impression of a disgraceful defeat by depicting
the danger, the distress, the exertions, things which would immensely
enhance the glory of a victory. Thus, our feeling, which

(02:14:16):
after all, is only a higher kind of judgment, forbids
us to do what seems an act of justice to
which our judgment would be inclined. Chapter six. Information in war.
By the word information, we denote all the knowledge which
we have of the enemy in his country. Therefore, in fact,
the foundation of all our ideas and actions. Let us

(02:14:38):
just consider the nature of this foundation, its want of trustworthiness,
its changefulness, and we shall soon feel what a dangerous
edifice war is, how easily it may fall to pieces
and bury us in its ruins. For although it is
a maxim in all books that we should trust only
certain information, that we must be always suspicious, that is
only a miserable book comfort belonging to to that description

(02:15:00):
of knowledge in which writers of systems and compendiums take
refuge for want of anything better. To say, great part
of the information obtained in war is contradictory, a still
greater part is false, and by far the greatest part
is of a doubtful character. What is required of an
officer is a certain power of discrimination, which only knowledge

(02:15:21):
of men and things and good judgment can give. The
law of probability must be his guide. This is not
a trifling difficulty, even in respect of the first plans,
which can be formed in the chamber outside the real
sphere of war. But it is enormously increased when in
the thick of war itself, one report follows hard upon
the heels of another. It is then fortunate if these reports,

(02:15:43):
in contradicting each other show a certain balance of probability,
and thus themselves call forth a scrutiny. It is much
worse for the inexperienced when accident does not render him
this service. But one report supports, another confirms, it magnifies,
it finishes off the picture where fresh touches of color,
until necessity, in urgent haste forces from us a resolution

(02:16:04):
which will soon be discovered to be folly, all those
reports having been lies, exaggerations, errors, et cetera, et cetera.
In a few words, most reports are false, and the
timidity of men acts as a multiplier of lies and untruths.
As a general rule, every one is more inclined to
lend credence to the bad than the good. Every one

(02:16:26):
is inclined to magnify the bad in some measure. And
although the alarms which are thus propagated, like the waves
of the sea, subside into themselves, still like them without
any apparent cause, they rise again, firm in reliance on
his own better convictions. The chief must stand like a
rock against which the sea breaks its fury in vain.

(02:16:47):
The role is not easy. He who is not by
nature of a buoyant disposition, or trained by experience in
war and matured in judgment. May let it be his
rule to do violence to his own natural conviction by
inclining from the side of fear to that of hope.
Only by that means will he be able to preserve
his balance. This difficulty of seeing things correctly, which is

(02:17:07):
one of the greatest sources of friction in war, makes
things appear quite different from what was expected. The impression
of the senses is stronger than the force of the
ideas resulting from methodical reflection, and this goes so far
that no important undertaking was ever yet carried out without
the commander having to subdue new doubts in himself at
the time of commencing the execution of his work. Ordinary

(02:17:30):
men who follow the suggestions of others become therefore generally
undecided on the spot. They think that they have found
circumstances different from what they had expected, and this view
gained strength by their again yielding to the suggestions of others.
But even the man who has made his own plans,
when he comes to see things with his own eyes,
will often think he has done wrong. Firm reliance on

(02:17:52):
self must make him proof against the seeming pressure of
the moment. His first conviction will in the end prove
true when the foreground scenery which fate has pushed on
to the stage of war, with its accompaniments of terrific objects,
is drawn aside and the horizon extended. This is one
of the great chasms which separate conception from execution. Chapter

(02:18:13):
seven friction in war. As long as we have no
personal knowledge of war, we cannot conceive where those difficulties
lie of which so much is said, and what that
genius and those extraordinary mental powers required in a general
have really to do. All appears so simple, all the
requisite branches of knowledge appear so plain, all the combinations

(02:18:35):
so unimportant, that in comparison with them, the easiest problem
in higher mathematics impresses us with a certain scientific dignity.
But if we have seen war, all becomes intelligible. And still,
after all, it is extremely difficult to describe what it
is which brings about this change, to specify this invisible
and completely efficient factor. Everything is very simple in war,

(02:18:58):
but the simplest thing is difficult. These difficulties accumulate and
produce a friction which no man can imagine exactly who
has not seen war Suppose now a traveler who towards
evening expects to accomplish the two stages at the end
of his day's journey, for five leagues with post horses
on the high road. It is nothing. He arrives now

(02:19:20):
at the last station, but one finds no horses or
very bad ones. Then a hilly country, bad roads. It
is a dark night, and he is glad when, after
a great deal of trouble, he reaches the next station
and finds there some miserable accommodation. So in war, through
the influence of an infinity of petty circumstances which cannot

(02:19:41):
properly be described on paper, things disappoint us and we
fall short of the mark. A powerful iron will overcomes
this friction. It crushes the obstacles, but certainly the machine
along with them. We shall often meet with this result
like an obelisk towards which the principal streets of a
town converge. The strong will of a proud spirit stands

(02:20:03):
prominent and commanding in the middle of the art of war.
Friction is the only conception which, in a general way
corresponds to that which distinguishes real war from war on paper.
The military machine. The army and all belonging to it
is in fact simple and appears on this account easy
to manage. But let us reflect that no part of

(02:20:24):
it is in one piece, that it is composed entirely
of individuals, each of which keeps up its own friction
in all directions. Theoretically all sounds very well. The commander
of a battalion is responsible for the execution of the
order given, and as the battalion, by its discipline, is
glued together into one piece, and the chief must be

(02:20:44):
a man of acknowledged zeal, the beam turns on an
iron pin with little friction, But it is not so
in reality, and all that is exaggerated and false in
such a conception manifests itself at once. In war, the
battalion always remains composed of a number of men, of whom,
if chance so wills, the most insignificant is able to occasion, delay,

(02:21:06):
and even irregularity. The danger which war brings with it.
The bodily exertions which it requires augment this evil so
much that they may be regarded as the greatest causes
of it. This enormous friction, which is not concentrated as
in mechanics, at a few points. Is therefore everywhere brought
into contact with chance, and thus incidents take place upon

(02:21:28):
which it was impossible to calculate, their chief origin being chance.
As an instance of one such chance, take the weather. Here,
the fog prevents the enemy from being discovered in time,
a battery from firing at the right moment, a report
from reaching the general. There the rain prevents a battalion
from arriving at the right time, because instead of for

(02:21:49):
three it had to march perhaps eight hours. The cavalry
from charging effectively because it is stuck fast in heavy ground.
These are only a few incidents of detail by way
of elucidation that the reader may be able to follow
the author, for whole volumes might be written on these difficulties.
To avoid this, and still to give a clear conception

(02:22:09):
of the host of small difficulties to be contended within war,
we might go on heaping up illustrations if we were
not afraid of being tiresome. But those who have already
comprehended us will permit us to add a few more.
Activity in war is movement in a resistant medium, just
as a man immersed in water is unable to perform
with ease and regularity. The most natural and simplest movement

(02:22:33):
that of walking, so in war with ordinary powers one
cannot keep even the line of mediocrity. This is the
reason that the correct theorist is like a swimming master
who teaches on dry land movements which are required in
the water, which must appear grotesque and ludicrous to those
who forget about the water. This is also why theorists

(02:22:53):
who have never plunged in themselves, or who cannot deduce
any generalities from their experience, are unpractical and ease even absurd,
because they only teach what every one knows how to walk. Further,
every war is rich in particular facts, while at the
same time each is an unexplored sea, full of rocks
which the general may have a suspicion of, but which

(02:23:14):
he has never seen with his eye, and round which
moreover he must steer in the night. If a contrary
wind also springs up, that is, if any great accidental
event declares itself adverse to him, then the most consummate skill,
presence of mind, and energy are required, Whilst to those
who only look on from a distance, all seems to

(02:23:35):
proceed with the utmost ease The knowledge of this friction
is a chief part of that so often talked of
experience in war, which is required in a good general.
Certainly he is not the best general in whose mind
it assumes the greatest dimensions, who is the most overwrought
by it. This includes that class of over anxious generals,
of whom there are so many amongst the experienced. But

(02:23:58):
a general must be aware of it, that he may
overcome it where that is possible, and that he may
not expect a degree of precision in results, which is
impossible on account of this very friction. Besides, it can
never be learned theoretically, and if it could, there would
still be wanting that experience of judgment, which is called tact,
and which is always more necessary in a field full

(02:24:19):
of innumerable, small and diversified objects than in great and
decisive cases, when one's own judgment may be aided by
consultation with others. Just as the man of the world,
through tact of judgment, which has become habit speaks, acts
and moves only as suits the occasion, so the officer
experienced in war will always in great and small matters

(02:24:40):
at every pulsation of war. As we may say, decide
and determine suitably to the occasion. Through this experience and practice,
the idea comes to his mind of itself that so
and so will not suit, and thus he will not
easily place himself in a position by which he is compromised, which,
if it often occurs in war, share, makes all the

(02:25:00):
foundations of confidence and becomes extremely dangerous. It is therefore,
this friction, or what is so termed here, which makes
that which appears easy in war difficult in reality. As
we proceed, we shall often meet with this subject again,
and it will hereafter become plain that besides experience and
a strong will, there are still many other rare qualities

(02:25:21):
of the mind required to make a man a consummate general.

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