Dead Carl Lives! - Why Clausewitz Endures
Reading and understanding Clausewitz is worth your time
What does Carl von Clausewitz, a man born in 1780 and dead before the end of 1831 have to tell us about modern war? As the name of this publication might tell you, I think there are good reasons to take a look at what the now-dead Carl had to say. It’s necessary to emphasize his distance to explain both the difficulty in his writing and reasoning and to illustrate the significance of his work’s longevity. That the observations of a man born before the US Constitution was ratified and dead only a decade after Napoleon are still relevant is understandably contentious. War, after all, looks quite a bit different than it did at Waterloo or Borodino.
What keeps Clausewitz relevant, despite the innumerable developments in military practice since the posthumous publication of On War, is that it remains the only enduring work to attempt to provide a theory of war as a social phenomenon. Like other writers, Clausewitz sought to provide practical advice in his work. This contributes to the impression that his work is dated. The practical advice and examples used are grounded in the recent experience of the Napoleonic Wars and the then-well-studied “cabinet wars” of the 18th century. Therefore when On War turns to subjects such as fortresses or marching, its enduring relevance is hard to see. In some places, it is true that the advice is too specific to have general applicability. However, the reason Clausewitz so often turns to concrete examples of war in his time is in an effort to test and demonstrate the applicability and usefulness of the theoretical parts of his work. In his view, for a theory to be useful, it had to match reality. In light of this, Clausewitz had no small amount of derision for much of what passed for military theory in his time.
“For in these matters everyone thinks that whatever comes into his head when he takes up a pen is quite good enough to be said and printed, and holds it to be as far beyond doubt as that two and two make four. If [the critic] would give himself the trouble, as I have done, to think over the subject for years and years and always compare his conclusions with the actual history of war, he would certainly be more cautious with his criticism.”
For Clausewitz, the test of any theory of war was whether it fit the record of history. While he died with his work unfinished, he nevertheless outlined a theory that matches the record of history, without resorting to exceptions.
The Historical Test
In pursuit of the common thread of war throughout time, Clausewitz managed to never lose sight of the great changes the conduct of war undergoes. “War is, therefore, not only a veritable chameleon, because in each concrete case it changes somewhat its character.” Clausewitz had witnessed first-hand a revolution in the conduct of war. The Napoleonic Wars shattered the 18th century’s canon of works on tactics and strategy. Clausewitz understood clearly that any effort to define war based on the characteristics of war of his time would inevitably become outdated and so sought the nature of war, to find what was true in the past, present, and for all time.
Clausewitz’s theory tells us that wars of the past were not fought differently because of inferior methods, but because different methods were more suitable to the socio-political circumstances of the time. Rather than seeing a one-way track towards larger wars, Clausewitz recognizes that war may change to be either more or less extreme, dependent on the political circumstances.
This historical methodology reveals that what is often considered characteristic of “new war” such as hybrid and proxy warfare are in fact forms of war that long predate the periods they are most popularly associated with.. How should we characterize the French bankrolling of the Protestant League during the Thirty Years’ War other than as a proxy war? We see the same in Thucydides’s History of the Peloponnesian War (5th Century BC), where the Persians indirectly aided the Spartan alliance to weaken Athens. Whether it is with triremes in the Aegean or ATACMS in Ukraine, confronting rivals through a proxy would be far from unfamiliar to Clausewitz.
Civil wars and non-state actors are also far from modern innovations. Clausewitz lacked no shortage of civil strife from which to derive his understanding of war. The French Revolution was followed by the war in the Vendée that ended in bloody repression. From Alexander’s generals, to Caesar and Pompey, to the German Peasants’ war, there was no shortage of non-state actors in the canon of military tradition at the time Clausewitz wrote. Even the existence of religious fanatics causing trouble for states would scarcely be unfamiliar to man born less than a century and a half after the Wars of Religion ended.
As we can see, Clausewitz was not without diverse examples when he made the claim that while methods and means may change, war at its most fundamental remains the same.
“The need of combat very soon led men to special inventions to turn the advantage in it in their own favor. In consequence of these, combat has undergone very many changes; but in whatever way it is conducted its conception remains unaltered, and combat constitutes war… That arms and equipment are not an essential part of the concept of combat is clear, because mere wrestling is also combat.”
This is important because methods and means must be evaluated and an understanding of the nature of war is the only firm foundation from which to do so. From an understanding of war on this conceptual level, one can analyze proposed methods and means based off of both experience and historical example. Through this, the skilled adherent can avoid being on the wrong side of a revolution in military affairs, as Prussia experienced when its army, trained in the fashion of Frederick the Great, was crushed at Jena by France.
What Drives Change?
“What is more natural than that the war of the French Revolution had its own way of doing things? And what theory could have included that peculiar method?” Clausewitz writes. Clausewitz did not anticipate tanks or drones—nor did he imagine the carnage of the world wars. But On War was written with the understanding that the changes in the practice of war could not be anticipated. To be useful, in light of this lack of clairvoyance, Clausewitz sought both the essential nature of war and the factors that determine its form. By understanding war in the abstract, a theory can therefore provide a framework to judge how developments will affect how it is fought in practice.
It is from this that the “strange trinity” of the forces that constitute war comes. Whether it is conducted through mere wrestling, with mechanized divisions, or through hybrid means, . There is 1. Passion, hate, and enmity 2. “The play of probabilities and chance” 3. Intelligence, and the “character of a political tool.” These factors of society, which Clausewitz corresponds to people, army, and state in his own time, shape the practice of war in every era. It was the degree of engagement of the people, for example, that differentiated the genteel cabinet wars of the 18th century, and the new modes represented by Napoleon in his own time.
On Modern War
The genius of Clausewitz is that we may hang the wars of the more recent past on this framework without contradiction. The paradoxical trinity can explain the wars of Fredrick the Great as well as the World Wars. Clausewitz’s continued usefulness may best be seen in his ability to explain America’s ill-fated wars in Afghanistan and Vietnam. “If our opponent is to do our will,” writes Clausewitz, “we must put him in a position more disadvantageous to him than the sacrifice that we demand. The disadvantages of his position should naturally, however, not be transitory, or, at least, should not appear so, or our opponent would wait for a more favorable moment and refuse to yield.” This observation may equally be applied to Napoleon’s march on Moscow and to the American strategy in Afghanistan. In both cases, a misjudgment as to what position the enemy needed to be placed into led to defeat. Clausewitz passes his own test of applicability to historical examples without inconsistency.
Clausewitz provides us with the framework for understanding how great powers like the United States can be defeated by manifestly weaker foes. Central to his work is the idea that war in the abstract does not exist in reality. In “purely military” terms, the United States had enough force available to do whatever it wanted to Vietnam or Afghanistan. But, as Clausewitz argues, war is not separated from all other aspects of human intercourse. For a state to invariably employ its maximum force, “An effort of will would be required disproportionate to the object in view and impossible to call forth.” The purely military logic of using maximum force is necessarily modified by the interests of the government and the passion (or dispassion) of the populace. The “strange trinity” proves a useful lens through which to view wars that have taken shapes unimaginable to Clausewitz.
In On War, Clausewitz asks what the wars of the past and present had in common so as to find the essential characteristics that constitute the nature of war that will hold true in the future, no matter the revolutionary changes its form undergoes. By understanding its nature, we can better anticipate how various factors will impact its form. For this reason, the core of his work endures in a way that few works in military history have. Arguments that his work is outdated on the basis of changes in the form of war or the means employed miss the mark. To abandon Clausewitz, one must argue that the nature of war has changed or else is other than as he described it. For this reason, if no other, Clausewitz is worth your time.
I believe that what keeps Clausewitz especially relevant is the degree to which he examines people at war and how they interact with war, which may be supported by the oft repeated and not inaccurate assessment that he could not take into account the material technological advances in warfare in succeeding years.
Interesting that you quoted the line about wrestling being combat too, from the beginning of Book II. Most readers don't get that far. I didn't get much farther, and even parts of Book I felt of its period.
On War's fate is much like that of other momentous books, presaged by Martial's Epigram 49 in Book IV: "Laudant illa sed ista legunt". This work is praised, but those, those are read. It's much like Sun Tzu's The Art of War, whose aphorisms are much quoted but never with reference to the original's context, because the original was never read.
One bucking this trend is Tolstoy's War & Peace, like On War, written out of the cataclysmic impact of the Napoleonic Wars. Edwin Starr's "War. What is it good for? Absolutely nothin'" would be a good summation of War & Peace, leading as it seemingly did only to upheaval, destruction and death.
The most-read books are The Bible and The Quran. Both take war to be an Act of God, they both have troubling tracts about war being God's instrument against unbelievers, and both have adherents in positions of political power. And while that last fact "endures", civilisation may not.