George Washington was not overly gifted as a military commander in the conduct of
warfare, but he was truly outstanding at waging war. History records a verdict in favour
of the American Revolution which makes the point unambiguously.
For some negative examples, Clausewitz claimed that Napoleon was the ‘God of War’
(Clausewitz, 1976: 5 8 3), but it is more accurate to see the Emperor as the god of warfare.
Somehow, time after time, his battlefield successes did not lead to victories sufficiently
politically decisive as to lay the foundation for a peace that would last. Two yet more
compelling historical cases are provided by the German Army, which was the finest
fighting machine in the world during both world wars, yet Germany lost both. To be good,
even excellent, at fighting – that is to say, at warfare – is not necessarily to be proficient
in the conduct of war. This distinction is not an abstruse academic point. It expresses a
difficulty that some states and other political units face when attempting to employ force,
organized violence, for the strategic effect necessary if victory is to be secured. What is
lacking is skill in strategy. War is not about fighting. The fighting is essential, but it can
only be a tool, a means to a political end. Again, as Clausewitz advises, the object in war
is not military victory; rather, it is to bend the enemy to one’s will (Clausewitz, 1976:
75). No more warfare should be waged than is necessary for that end.
The fourth theme is the often troubled relationship between politicians and soldiers.
Military violence and its political consequences comprise two different currencies, and
it is difficult to convert one into the other by strategy. So, also, military and political
professionals have different values, skills, perspectives and responsibilities. In addition,
soldiers and politicians are likely to be drawn from different kinds of personalities.
On the one hand, soldiers favour an ideal type who is decisive, determined, honest, loyal
and a person of action. Politicians, on the other hand, favour compromise as a high virtue,
regard expediency as a necessary mode of operation, are apt to think little of being
economical with the truth, hold to an honour code that would not pass muster in a
military context, and their careers rise and fall with words, the tools of their trade. One
exaggerates deliberately, but there can be no doubt that there is a wide cultural divide
between the two professions. From the difficulties that Wellington in the Iberian
Peninsula had with civilian politicians in London (Rathbone, 19 8 4), to the nightmarish
troubles suffered by American general Wesley Clark – SACEUR (NATO’s Supreme
Allied Commander, Europe) in 1999 – as he strove to conduct a militarily rational air
campaign against Serbia over Kosovo, the story is essentially unchanged (Clark, 2002).
The conflict and tension in civil–military relations are neatly captured in a pair of rival
maxims: first, ‘war is too important to be left to the generals’; and second, ‘war is too
important to be left to the politicians’.
Strategic history is amply populated with cases of soldiers being given impossible
tasks by policy-makers, and of soldiers compelled to operate in the absence of clear
political guidance. Clausewitz insists that politicians must understand the military
instrument that they intend to use, but in historical practice that has been an exceptional
condition, not the norm. Needless to say, different states and societies have different
traditions governing the relations between soldiers and civilians. Soldiers can believe that
they, and they alone, represent the best interests of their country, and that they serve the
state rather than the government of the day. For an extreme example, on 22 April 1961
elite units of the French Armée d’Afrique, led by the parachute regiments of the Foreign
Legion, staged a coup in Algeria and planned and began to execute a parachute drop on
Themes and contexts of strategic history 7