Arms and influence

Haditha reports

IN THE NEWS
Even if every accusation of American atrocities against Iraqi civilians proves to be false, the United States is losing political ground in Iraq. Unfortunately, since war is supposed to create a desired political outcome, that means, by definition, the United States is losing the war in Iraq. For all of the Bush Administration's obsession with political messages, the "message" in Iraq is now outside the control of US officials.

I don't know what to say. This news is unspeakably sad.

The view from the trenches

IN THE NEWS
Recently, I started Hew Strachan's recent book, The First World War. It turned out to be different from the book I had expected. Rather than being a narrative history of The Great War, it was more of an historian's essay about that conflict. Naturally, any historian creates an implicit or explicit thesis about an event, merely by writing the narrative. You include some details, but not others. You depict people in a particular light. You erect hypotheses about causes and effects. In the process, you favorably or unfavorably cite other historian's interpretations.

Still, I wasn't in the mood for historiography, so I put down Strachan's book and picked up John Keegan's on the same topic. Keegan's history is more narrative, and on a second reading, it cast new light on an important aspect of the war: how nearly every combatant was overstretched.

When you think of World War I, you can't help but envision the trench mazes of the Western Front, the massive number of troops mobilized for combat, and the "industrialization" of warmaking. What struck me this time through the history, however, was, despite their best efforts, how unprepared most European nations were for the scope of the ground war.

Germany couldn't deliver a knockout blow to France the way it did in the Franco-Prussian War, so it found itself in the worst situation possible. Instead of shifting its army from west to east, Germany was trapped fighting on both fronts simultaneously. Turkey's recently modernized army moved to assail the British in the Near East and the Russians in the Caucasus, while still maintaining its foothold in the Balkans. The Turks spread themselves so far in this effort that they succeeded on none of these fronts. The Russians, though capable of massing huge forces against Germany and Austria-Hungary, couldn't bring replacements to the front fast enough, and the rate of consumption for war materiel, particularly ammunition, created constant problems. Britain and France held the Western Front, but they were not able to divert enough strength to deliver a decisive blow on the Central Powers' flanks. The invasion force at Gallipoli was too weak to ever have succeeded in its mission, and the landings at Salonika arrived too late to save Serbia.

The country that most caught my attention, however, was Austria-Hungary. The Dual Monarchy had planned on a war on the model of the "Balkan Wars" several years earlier, involving only a small number of the great powers and whichever minor powers were at the center of the current dispute. The target for Vienna, of course, was Serbia, which had been a low-level threat to the multi-ethnic Austrian Empire before the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo. To their ultimate undoing, the Austrians were forced to split their forces between the Serbian operation and Germany's assault on Russia's holdings in Poland. The Austrians took far more casualties in the broader war than they would have suffered in a local war with Serbia, and the Austro-Hungarian military was far less capable of replacing its combat strength, particularly among its best troops, than other European powers. The Central Powers finally broke through the Serbian lines in 1915, after the Bulgarians joined the war against Serbia. However, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was already collapsing.

As you probably already know, much ink has been spilled about whom to blame for World War One. Austria-Hungary had its share of culpability, but the world initially shared its outrage about the Ferdinand assassination. However, Vienna lost, through a combination of mismanagement and bad luck, whatever sympathy it had. The Austrians were clearly bent on war with Serbia, to the point of delivering an ultimatum designed to be unacceptable. Much to their surprise, the Serbians accepted it, except for some points about the handling of the police investigation into the assassination. Austria-Hungary got its most important demands met, but the demands were never really the point.

Although Austria-Hungary in 1914 was very different than the United States in 2001, I think there are some important similarities on this point. A nation suffering a recent tragedy decided that, once and for all, the issue with an adversary would be settled by force. Once that decision had been made, long before shots were ever fired, the mechanics of getting to the first day of combat crowded out important questions about the possible outcomes.

Impatience with finally dealing with the adversary can have profound psychological effects, too. Undoubtedly, Franz Ferdinand's assassins were involved with Serbian nationalist groups like the Black Hand, who in turn worked secretly with senior officials of the Austrian government. Whatever conspiracies existed, the Serbian government itself was not behind the assassination. The government of the prime minister, Nicholas Pasic, had no program of destabilizing through terrorism the Slavic portions of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The government in Vienna, however, was in no mood to make such distinctions, especially the people most convinced that war was the only alternative. For example, Field Marshal Conrad von Hötzendorf, the Austrian über-hawk of the 1914 crisis, believed that the Empire would only be safe once Serbia was defeated militarily and dismembered geographically.

We hear some echoes of 1914 in the events of 2002 and 2003. Other differences and similarities aside, the decision to deal with the Ba'athist autocracy of Saddam Hussein took on a life of its own. Getting past the obstacles to an invasion consumed most, if not all, of the time and energy of top Bush Administration officials. We, like the Austro-Hungarians of 1914, are now living with the results.

War and Kulturkampf

IN THE NEWS
Perhaps it's finally dawning on more people that, for a faction of the Republican Party, the goal of US foreign policy after 9/11 isn't simply the defeat of Al Qaeda. Instead, for this radical right coalition, the 9/11 attacks merely energized them for a broader "clash of civilizations," which has both domestic and international dimensions.

Otherwise, how can you explain their willingness to bar women from combat duty, at a time when the military needs everyone it can get? Or, earlier, why was there a decision to dismiss several Arabic translators because they were gay, when turning a blind eye (in other words, actually following the "don't ask, don't tell" policy) seemed necessary for the war in Iraq?

There is a group dedicated to a broad Kulturkampf, both at home and abroad. The dogged campaign to eliminate evolution from Kansas' K-12 curriculum is connected to the effort to send evangelical missionaries (and even Christian rock music) to Muslim countries. Their war is different from the one normally depicted as official US foreign policy. It's also the unofficial campaign of many people in the executive and legislative branches of the US government. It's time for people to stop acting surprised by news items like the ones cited above and recognize this movement for what it is.

Another angle on accountability

IN THE NEWS
One area for which the Bush Administration needs to take greater responsibility is the political invective, often crossing the line into threats, that plague our national dialogue about counterterrorism. Recently, a newspaper in Crawford, Texas endorsed John Kerry for president, resulting in an avalanche of nasty letters like this one:

In the Old West days they hung people for being traitors. Quite frankly, I feel that way about the liberal press, both in the newspapers and on TV. It sounds like you’ve gotten on the “Flip/Flop” bandwagon and I sincerely hope that ALL Texans will ban your newspaper.

The Framers of the Constitution believed that democratic debate was not only possible during war, but necessary. It's the job of political leaders, therefore, to remind people like the author of this letter--or Ann Coulter, for that matter--of the American political tradition.

I'd say the same about Kerry, except I haven't run across anyone encouraging the Democrats to use the tactics of Josef Stalin or Pol Pot on their opponents. We're long overdue for the Republican leadership to rebuke someone advocating the return of Old West-style lynch mobs.

[To wage war effectively, the United States needs to cleave to its own democracy and rule of law. That's why I'm bring up this topic on a blog devoted to security affairs.]

Accountability

IN THE NEWS
A lot of people have already commented on the final question for Bush in the last presidential debate. His inability to name any mistakes he's made may not have been his worst moment in the debate (for example, I hid my face from the television during his bizarre and inaccurate description of the Dred Scott case), but it was pretty bad. While he fumbled a question that every job candidate gets asked, and he could have guessed was coming, his most disturbing moment was when he articulated his theory of accountability--or lack thereof.

We've already had indications that Bush doesn't feel bound by the normal rules of cultural and Constitutional accountability. The infamous Defense Department white paper on the use of torture in terrorist interrogations, a document whose sentiments have been echoed in public by Bush and his top aides, argues that all authority emanates from the president, who can decide when the Constitution does and does not apply. The Administration justifies its ugly treatment of "enemy combatants," material witnesses, and terrorist suspects on the grounds of necessity, not the Constitution--and the person in the White House, according to their thinking, who decides what's necessary. (Thankfully, the Supreme Court slapped down the Administration's handling of accused enemy combatants.) As I've argued earlier in this blog, the "dog that didn't bark in the night," to borrow a term from Arthur Conan Doyle, is the complete non-discussion of whether the United States should have formally declared war on Iraq. The Congress failed to push the question; the Administration was happy to wage a war without the question ever being raised.

There is a context, therefore, for this statement Bush made during the last debate:

But history will look back, and I'm fully prepared to accept any mistakes that history judges to my administration, because the president makes the decisions, the president has to take the responsibility.

This isn't the first time Bush has made this argument. His theory of accountability more or less boils down to the following:

1. The president makes decisions, including whether to wage war.


2. The nation, including the two other branches of government, rally behind him.


3. Critics should remain silent, since they otherwise might demoralize the troops and give comfort to our enemies.


4. Years after the end of a president's term, history will judge whether or not he made good decisions.

That's hardly a description of accountability, in the sense that leaders take responsibility in the here and now for decisions gone awry. Anthony Eden resigned as prime minister of Great Britain because of the Suez Crisis. Lyndon Johnson's informal circle of advisors convinced him that, in the interests of the nation, he should not run for re-election. John Profumo resigned from Harold Wilson's cabinet when the newspapers ran a story that this mistress, Christine Keeler, had also been romantically involved with a Soviet naval attache.

In the American political system, the system of checks and balances ensures liberty by blurring and confusing responsibilities. That does not mean, however, that accountability for your own actions does not exist. When you insist on centralizing warmaking powers in your own hands, you don't even have the blurring effect of checks and balances to disguise your mistakes. Unless you're assuming the powers of a Byzantine emperor, responsible only to God and history, there is some reckoning you need to face in the here and now.

The election is one way to enforce accountability. The statement, "You shouldn't change horses mid-stream," is both inane and anti-democratic. The missions in Somalia and the no-fly zones in Iraq survived the transition from George Bush Sr. to Bill Clinton. The mission in the Balkans survived the transition from Clinton to Bush Jr. If Kerry is elected, the mission in Iraq will survive. And even though Bush believes himself answerable only to God and history, the rest of the nation may feel otherwise.

How great a victory?

THEORY
I'll finish this discussion about war aims with a brief note about levels or types of victory. After the Korean War, people bitterly disagreed over whether the conclusion--a return to the status quo ante--was in fact a victory. Limited war for limited objectives certainly seemed like a distastefully odd concept for a nation that had, a few years earlier, won a total victory over Germany, Italy, and Japan. Over time, however, as feelings grew less raw, and as the shape of the Cold War balance of power took a clear shape, the Korean War did in fact look more like a victory--at least, the best outcome we could have hoped for, given the circumstances. Unless we used nuclear weapons, the military stalemate would not be broken. Crossing the nuclear threshold, however, not only posed an enormous moral risk, but at the coldest practical level, could easily have shattered our alliances, created worldwide hatred of the United States, and possibly led to a nuclear confrontation with the Soviet Union. In hindsight, we can still argue how great or trivial these risks might have been, but clearly, for decision-makers at the time, they were not worth taking.

So the victory in Korea may not have been total, but it was certainly acceptable. South Korea recovered and grew prosperous. North Korea was contained.

Victory, therefore, can take three shapes:

(1) Risk elimination. Military action removes the source of the threat--the Nazi regime, the Confederacy, etc.--completely.

(2) Political success. The war ends with the political objectives achieved, without having to eradicate the enemy altogether. Most wars have ended this way, including he first Gulf War. Our success at containing Iraqi expansionism--ousting the Iraqis from Kuwait, crippling their army, and eliminating the Iraqi WMD arsenal and programs--was more than enough reason to declare victory.

(3) Revenge. This type of victory may surprise you to see in this list, but it's a legitimate measure of success. Frequently, military action doesn't need to eliminate the enemy, nor does it have to change the map of the world. Instead, it simply has to satisfy the need to hurt someone who has hurt you. I'm not arguing that this type of victory is moral, practical, or by any measure a good idea. I'm just saying that, in the real world, not the world of military theory, this is often the outcome that the people involved will say is satisfactory. (For a good discussion of the impulse for revenge as the basis of justice and one type of social cohesion, I recommend reading Emile Durkheim's The Division of Labor in Society.)

PRACTICE
Let's take both the target of our war--terrorists, terrorism, and terror--and the types of victory I sketched above and put them together:

Somewhere in this table is your definition of victory. Pick one--but choose wisely. Be prepared to ask yourself some hard questions about what the United States needs to do to win, according to your definition of victory. And be clear in your mind about what you've chosen, since as we discussed earlier, fuzzy war aims usually lead to disastrous outcomes.

The war against what?

THEORY
I think it’s worth jumping ahead a bit to the question, What is terrorism? The wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere (such as smaller engagements in the Philippines, Georgia, Uzbekistan, and Colombia) are all supposed to contribute to victory in a larger war against someone (terrorists) or something (terror or terrorism). Therefore, it’s critical that we paint a very clear picture of who or what is in our crosshairs in this larger struggle.

The three words—terror, terrorism, and terrorist—have very different meanings. People use them interchangeably, but a war on terrorists isn’t the same as a war on terror or terrorism.

Terror is a state of mind. In World War II, both the Blitz and the Allied strategic bombing campaign attempted to inspire terror in the enemy population. Early air power theorists like Duohet argued before the war that, under the strain, horror, unpredictability, and privation of continued bombing, enemy populations would crack. With national will lost in the ruins of major cities, enemy leaders would have to sue for peace. Of course, in World War II, the theory did not work, with the possible exception of the two A-bomb attacks on Japan. However, strategic bombing is not the only way to manufacture terror. Suicide bombings by groups like the al-Aqsa Martyr Brigade are as much an attempt at terror as the firebombing of Dresden. And these other efforts at creating terror have had their successes.

Terrorism is a particular tactical approach, not an outcome. Terrorism tries to create terror through assassinations, kidnappings, sabotage, and bombings. Just like Hitler aimed V-1 and V-2 rockets at the English population, terrorism deliberately attacks citizens, not soldiers. As a distinct tactic, terrorism is a form of “asymmetric warfare” that lets a group fight on the cheap. Both governments and independent groups have used terrorism, such as the Chilean junta, the Iraqi Baathists, the Red Brigades (Italy), and the Tupemaro “urban guerrilla” movement (Uruguay). Bombings that deliberately target innocent bystanders are the most infamous incidents of terrorism, and according to Bruce Hoffman of the RAND Corporation, they are on the rise worldwide. However much they use indiscriminate bombings and other techniques, terrorism isn’t something to which groups are necessarily wed. The same group may depend more or less on terrorism throughout the course of a conflict: the National Liberation Front, for example, used terrorism in its early phases of the insurgency in South Vietnam. As the movement gained recruits, the NLF shifted to a heavier emphasis on guerrilla operations. Because a group has used terrorism, they are and forever deserve to be identified as terrorists—particularly since terrorists seem to be a distinct type of organization.

Terrorists are a highly recognizable type of radical organization that depends on terrorism as the primary tool in its arsenal. These groups are generally secretive, disciplined, ideological, and, of course, ruthless. Their goal is usually a total transformation of society to a totalist regime, ranging from communist (the Baader-Meinhof gang in Germany) to a Islamist (al-Qaeada). Terrorists are fiercely independent, willing to take assistance from governments when offered, but always suspicious of being co-opted by them. They will even come to blows with their former patrons or protectors, if they think the situation warrants, such as in the the attempted PLO coup against the Jordanian monarchy. Paramilitary groups like the Salvadoran death squads are also arguably terrorists by this definition, even though they may have closer-than-usual ties to the military or security services of a government.

PRACTICE
So, whom or what are we really fighting: terror, terrorism, or terrorists? I don’t think anyone really knows. Whichever one you choose, however, victory will look very different.

Victory against terrorists requires defeating some or all of the terrorists hostile to the United States. Perhaps we could stop at al-Qaeda, or we might want to also prevent further bloodshed by eliminating the threat we face from other foreign terrorists who may turn against us (for example, Hezbollah), or domestic terrorists plotting attacks (such as the Army of God, or the recently-arrested duo of William Krar and Judith Bruey). We also want to make sure that these groups don't regenerate, or merely change their names, so a sustained, thorough effort is critical.

Victory against terrorism means eliminating the use of assassinations, kidnappings, sabotage, and bombings as an acceptable tactic by any combatant. Just as world opinion turned against the use of chemical weapons, and has increasingly turned against land mines, so too could terrorism become taboo. (In fact, the Geneva Convention and other international agreements already define them as unacceptable tactics. Clearly, though, they’re not having the desired moral effect yet.)

Victory against terror has much the same nature. However, this effort requires a broader effort to eliminate the sorts of things that human rights groups like Amnesty International and the International Red Cross have targeted, such as the myriad ways (not just terrorism) that some governments use to intimidate their own or enemy populations.

These distinctions should make it clear that we’re fighting a war against terrorists, not terrorism or terror. If the new definition of national security means, “No more 9/11-like attacks,” then we need to focus on terrorists like al-Qaeda. If we shift our sights to terrorism or terror, people can rightly complain, “This isn’t the war we signed up for.” The 9/11 attack wasn’t merely one breed of a larger species of threats; it defined the threat, attacks by terrorists. The war in Afghanistan made sense, since it went after al-Qaeda in its safe haven (and had the added benefit of getting rid of the Taliban in the process). The war in Iraq was not justified under this definition, except if (1) Iraq had supported al-Qaeda or equally threatening groups that were planning attacks on US targets, or (2) Iraq was supplying (or might supply) al-Qaeda with nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons. Since neither condition turned out to exist, the fact that the Baathist regime ruled through terror wasn’t relevant to our stated war aim, “No more 9/11-like attacks.”

I hope this discussion makes it easier to talk about other points. I find nearly everyone tripping over terminology, which is a good reason why so many “discussions” since 9/11 don’t seem to be addressing the same topic.

And I promise that the next post will be shorter.

The fog of war aims

THEORY
One of the great little books about warfare is Fred Ikle's Every War Must End. Like Arms and Influence, the title Every War Must End captures the essential point of the book: of course, every war has both a beginning and an end. The end is supposed to create the outcome envisioned at the beginning. How often does that happen?

Ikle starts his book by pointing out how easy it is to start a war, and how difficult it is to end one. The usual culprit is the element of the unexpected ("No plan survives the first contact with the enemy"). Navigating the twists and turns of events takes longer than the direct course that national leaders had desired.

However, Ikle points out a far more insidious and less recognized factor: War aims often are not very clear at the outset, and they often mutate during the war itself.

Imperial Japan, for example, didn't have a clear vision of what the world would look like after war with the United States. Clearly, by establishing some kind of "defensive perimeter" around the Pacific, it would stand a better chance of establishing the "East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere". However, it wasn't obvious among Japanese leaders what they expected the United States to do. Surrender after Pearl Harbor? Give up soon after the initial battles proved costly? Lift the economic sanctions against Japan? Come to some other accommodation with the Japanese? Certainly, Japan felt backed into a corner by the diplomatic and economic pressures the Americans were exerting, and they had to do something to stop their imperial ambitions from being further thwarted. (Again, the dangerous lure of "do something" appears.) The whole point of Pearl Harbor, in the end, was to compel American leaders to make a decision--but to do what?

War aims also change. Imperial Germany in WWI, Ikle argues, started the war trying to assert German equality among its European peers. One of Germany's desired outcomes, for example, was to expand the limited colonial possessions they had as a latecomer to the European balance of power game. But as the war dragged on, the need to justify German casualties sometimes inflated expectations. By 1917 and 1918, some German leaders imagined that they might not only expand their colonial possessions, but also build a larger European empire, stretching from Alsace-Lorraine to captured territories in Russia.

The most familiar example of changing war aims for Americans, of course, is Vietnam. The United States started took on the responsibility in the 1950s for preventing a domino from falling in East Asia. Having long ago abandoned the domino theory, the US ended the war trying to preserve its credibility, regardless of how strategic Vietnam really was.

Clearly, if you're not sure how to measure victory, either because the definition has changed or it was fuzzy to begin with, it's extremely hard to reach victory. Nations may expend their blood and treasure in the wrong places; political arguments over what victory really means may paralyze decision-making; public support may collapse if victory doesn't seem to be in sight, or worse, if the public feels as though they were misled into believing the war was about something other than the real objective.

PRACTICE
So, not surprisingly, this discussion about the slipperiness of war aims leads us to some obvious questions about victory in our current conflicts:

What is victory in the war on terror?

Is it a war on terror, terrorism, or terrorists?

What was the aim of the war in Afghanistan? To eliminate the Taliban and al Qaeda from using any part of Afghanistan? Simply eject them from Kabul and a few other regions? Eliminate their organizations altogether?

And, of course, the big question: What was the goal of the war in Iraq? And why was this war, and this time, necessary to achieve that aim?

There may be good answers to all these questions. Some Some were stated clearly (remove Saddam Hussein) and actually had broad support. had clear answers (remove WMDs) that changed or evaporated. Most never had clear answers at all, particularly in regards to terrorism.

Since we're citizens, not subjects, it's our own responsibility to frame what would be acceptable answers for ourselves. We can then judge leaders by these standards, as well as the war aims they stated. I'd recommend turning off the TV or the radio, putting down the newspaper, or stop reading the news online for a day. Instead, think about the questions posed above: what, for you, defines victory against terrorists, and in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq? Without the daily distractions of ongoing events (something to which political leaders often fall victim), you might be surprised by your own answers.

Next, I'll talk about an instrument that helps define what the war aims are, and has a special significance in democratic societies: the declaration of war.

Meet Thomas Schelling

THEORY
The title of this blog is the same as the title of one of the most famous books of the Cold War, Arms and Influence by Thomas Schelling. Schelling was one of the earliest theorist of nuclear deterrence (using the threat of nuclear attack to stop an actual nuclear attack) and compellence (using the threat of nuclear war to coerce an opponent into doing something). Schelling and others like Bernard Brodie and Herman Kahn helped move the discusssion in the think tanks and Washington from a combination of panic about the balance of terror with the Soviet Union to a more measured approach.

At times, the approach in places like the RAND Corporation got a bit too measured (or measurable), with complex mathematical models that attempted to model or predict how nuclear crises would play out. The problem was, the people working on these projects took the math a wee bit too seriously. Terms like "acceptable losses" and "collateral damage" implied that Strangelovean characters in the Pentagon were plotting how to "win" a nuclear exchange. Clearly, "existential deterrence" was closer to the truth: arguing that the US would "win" a nuclear war if we destroyed Moscow, Leningrad, and Minsk, while they only annihilated Chicago, was ridiculous. Deterrence worked because any attack was an unthinkable, apocalyptic event. (Much how people feel about terrorist-delivered nuclear attacks today.)

Every field has its hacks, as did the nuclear strategists. Schelling was no hack. He was a thoughtful, articulate, and often original thinker who performed some critical thought experiments about nuclear crisis management. He was also brilliant at coming up with apt analogies: for instance, he likened a nuclear confrontation to a game of chicken. Now, that statement may seem a bit trite, but Schelling's thinking went further: he identified the party with the least control over his car as the one with the most actual control over the confrontation. (One driver has more of a choice to veer off, in other words...And he feels the pressure of that choice.)

Schelling helped us "think about the unthinkable" in sober, realistic terms. His analysis veered into neither despair ("We're doomed!") nor hubris ("We have more nukes than they do--let's teach those Reds a lesson!"). Nuclear weapons had power, not so much in their use, as in the threat of their use--in some ways, almost by their existence alone. Decision makers could use the nuclear threat to engineer political outcomes, if only they (and the public) could think clearly about the subject.

Again, Clausewitz makes an appearance. I'm guessing that Schelling chose the title of his book carefully. It wasn't something obvious or meaningless, like Strategy in the Nuclear Age. The title instead implies, We have new arms in our arsenal--let's figure out how to use them as instruments of political influence.

PRACTICE
I hope that we're at the same point with terrorism that we were with nuclear weapons around 1950. A dramatic event--the first Soviet nuclear test, or later, the launching of Sputnik--makes us feel threatened in a way we never were before. Attack could come at any time, at any place. (Though, you'll certainly note, short of acquiring a nuclear weapon, the number of people a terrorist group can kill in an attack is far, far smaller than how many people could have died if one Soviet missile hit its target.) The enemy is enigmatic, relentless, and dedicated heart and soul to our destruction. Sympathizers and infiltrators may live right down the block from you, and you'd never know it.

Somehow, we managed not to lose our collective wits for too long over the Cold War nuclear threat. Fear did lead us down some dark, blind alleys, such as McCarthyism, but we undid our mistakes. Not only did the United States survive, but so did the Constitution, democracy, the rule of law, open communications and debate, a free market, and other hallmarks of "the American way of life." And the enemy finally self-destructed, in part because of the appeal of the American example to dissidents in Eastern bloc countries.

Worth remembering, I think, especially when comparing the scale of threat.

[Next time, back to the topic at hand: war aims. I realized after writing my first post, however, that I forgot to explain the blog's title.]

Why war?

THEORY
The thuddingly obvious place to start is Clausewitz's famous aphorism, War is the continuation of politics by other means. Or, as it has been sometimes translated, War is the use of force to compel our opponent to do our will.

Either way, Clausewitz is saying something simple and obvious: Military actions are judged by their political outcomes. Simple and obvious points get lost in the proverbial heat of battle, however, which is why people cite Clausewitz as often as they do.

As someone with first-hand experience of the Napoleonic Wars, Carl von Clausewitz spoke with a substantial authority on this point. Napoleon may have been the greatest general of his age, but in the end, the Napoleonic Wars were a failure. Certainly, they came close to establishing the French Imperium as the dominant power in Europe. But the Imperium collapsed, from the puppet states in Italy and elsewhere to the whole imperial regime in Paris. Napoleon's own decisions to take action against his opponents, from Spain to Russia, often undermined his own aims. Was Russia a threat to France? Maybe so, but at the same time, one could argue, military action against Russia was ill-conceived, and certainly the results were catastrophic.

In short, Napoleon was a great general, but a lousy statesman....Which in turn, calls into question his generalship. Defeating the Russian army and occupying Moscow was worse than meaningless--Napoleon's Russian campaign (like Hitler's) cost him his army and, in the long term, his empire. Military action may have been Napoleon's preferred tool, but it wasn't the tool for everything.

Napoleon isn't alone in making this mistake. Countless governments have committed the same error, believing that "doing something" with military force, taking some action against an adversary, was better than doing nothing. However, "doing something" is a question of actions, not results. Results, again, are measured in political outcomes: the survival and dominance of the French Imperium; the restoring of the Union and the end of slavery; the removal of fascist and expansionist regimes in Europe and Japan; the safety of American citizens from terrorist attack.

Another great thinker, Max Weber, made essentially the same point in his essay, Politics As a Vocation. Weber thought the unique characteristic of the state, as distinct from other types of organizations in a society, was that the state had monopoly over the legitimate use of violence. Another obvious point, maybe, but an equally profound one. States do other things, but political leaders need to be ready to use all means, including force (both police and military action), to achieve results.

Weber wrote this essay with a great deal of passion, so he has some very memorable things to say, such as this passage:

Whoever wants to engage in politics at all, and especially in politics as a vocation...lets himself in for the diabolic forces lurking in all violence. The great virtuosi of acosmic love of humanity and goodness, whether stemming from Nazareth or Assisi or from Indian royal castles, have not operated with the political means of violence. Their kingdom was 'not of this world' and yet they worked and still work in this world.

And this one:

Politics is a strong and slow boring of hard boards. It takes both passion and perspective. Certainly all historical experience confirms the truth --that man would not have attained the possible unless time and again he had reached out for the impossible. But to do that a man must be a leader, and not only a leader but a hero as well, in a very sober sense of the word. And even those who are neither leaders nor heroes must arm themselves with that steadfastness of heart which can brave even the crumbling of all hopes.

Weber was no pacifist; instead, he was arguing that politicians have a tough gautlet ahead of them, one that they need to be both passionate and clear-headed to traverse. And the ultimate rule of politics, he argues, is to use all means, including violence, to achieve results.

PRACTICE
So, what does this have to do with Iraq, Afghanistan, and the war on terror?

Quite a lot. First, and most obviously, we need to have a definition of victory--something so far we've lacked. How do we know when we've won? is perhaps the most basic question, but one that, oddly, many people never ask.

Here's a mental exercise everyone should try: Phrase in one or two sentences how to measure "wining the war on terror." Is it by reducing the number of terrorist victims each year? Killing a desired number of terrorists? Shutting down a particular number of terrorist organizations? Eliminating terrorist groups altogether?

Now, having defined the goal, ask yourself the obvious next question: Is the Bush Administration's strategy going to achieve this goal?

I don't presume to know the right answer for everyone, and I certainly don't expect everyone to agree. But perhaps our common starting point, as fellow citizens, is to try to reach some consensus on this point. Otherwise, we'll continue to talk past one another, because we're really talking about different wars.

But here's a point on which we can all agree:

Taking action, in and of itself, is not going to guarantee success.

That's not the same as arguing for inaction. (Far from it, if you know anything about me.) It is, however, making another obvious point: "Just do something!" is a flight from reality, not realism. The exhiliration of defeating the enemy on the battlefield, or watching the enemy's casualty statistics rise, isn't a guarantee of success. Napoleon learned that lesson the hard way, in the icy wastes of Russia. Hotter regions offer the opportunity to learn the same lesson in the same brutal fashion.