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 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.

2. DEFINITION.

We shall not enter into any of the abstruse definitions of War used by
publicists. We shall keep to the 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 endeavours
to throw his adversary, and thus render him incapable of further
resistance.

WAR THEREFORE IS AN ACT OF VIOLENCE INTENDED TO COMPEL OUR OPPONENT TO
FULFIL 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, 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 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.

3. UTMOST USE OF FORCE.

Now, philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skilful method of
disarming and overcoming an enemy without great bloodshed, and 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, without reference to the
bloodshed involved, must obtain a superiority if his adversary uses
less vigour 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 counter-acting force on each side.

This is the way in which the matter must be viewed 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 civilised 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
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. 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 a hostile intention. On the other hand, hostile
intentions may often exist without being accompanied by any, or at
all events by any extreme, hostility of feeling. Amongst savages views
emanating from the feelings, amongst civilised nations those emanating
from the understanding, have the predominance; but this difference
arises from attendant circumstances, existing institutions, &c., and,
therefore, is not to be found necessarily in all cases, although it
prevails in the majority. In short, even the most civilised 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 civilised 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 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(*) taught it better. If War is an ACT of force, it belongs
necessarily also to the feelings. 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 civilisation, but upon the
importance and duration of the interests involved.

(*) Clausewitz alludes here to the "Wars of Liberation,"
1813,14,15.

Therefore, if we find civilised nations do not put their prisoners
to death, do not devastate towns and countries, this is because their
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 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 first extreme
with which we meet (FIRST RECIPROCAL ACTION).

4. 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 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 War should therefore be a 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 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 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).

5. UTMOST EXERTION OF POWERS.

If we 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; 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 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, then do our best by 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).

6. 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 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, 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 unnecessary waste of power, which would be in
opposition to other principles of statecraft; an effort of Will would
be required disproportioned to the proposed object, which therefore it
would be impossible to realise, 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. 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,

(1) War becomes a completely isolated act, which arises suddenly, and is
in no way connected with the previous history of the combatant States.

(2) If it is limited to a single solution, or to several simultaneous
solutions.

(3) 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.

7. WAR IS NEVER AN ISOLATED ACT.

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 to-morrow by what it is to-day. War does not spring up quite
suddenly, it does not spread 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 organisation is always below the line of
absolute perfection, and thus these deficiencies, having an influence on
both sides, become a modifying principle.

8. 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, 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 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 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 War the real
world steps into 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 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 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, &c.--in short, not the whole country, unless 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 this part of the means of resistance, which cannot at 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 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 unfavourable
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 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 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.

9. 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 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
vigour of the efforts made, is evident in itself.

10. THE PROBABILITIES OF REAL LIFE TAKE THE PLACE OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF
THE EXTREME AND THE ABSOLUTE.

In this manner, the whole 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 judgment
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, 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 law of probability as to the designs of the other,
and act accordingly.

11. THE POLITICAL OBJECT NOW REAPPEARS.

Here the question which we had laid aside forces itself again into
consideration (see No. 2), 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 certain extent usurped the place of this end or
object. Just as this law loses its force, the political 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 demand from ours, 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, 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 abstractions. 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 is easy to see that thus the result may be very different according
as these masses are animated with a spirit which will infuse vigour
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 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 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 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 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 which we have
hereafter to develop and answer.

12. 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 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 despatch into his movements.

About this more or less we shall not trouble ourselves here. Each person
acts in his own fashion; but the slow 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, at first sight at least, that any expenditure of time beyond
this length, that is, every suspension of hostile action, appears an
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.

13. THERE IS ONLY ONE CAUSE WHICH CAN SUSPEND THE ACTION, 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 HE WAITS FOR A MORE FAVOURABLE 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 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, 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
favourable 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, but that it ends in the question of
the EXPECTATION OF A MORE FAVOURABLE 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 utilised in the settlement of peace. After this conquest, his
political object is accomplished, the necessity for action ceases, 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, then he has
sufficient grounds for putting off the time of action.

But from that moment the logical course for 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 a complete insight into the state of
circumstances on both sides is supposed.

14. THUS A CONTINUANCE OF ACTION WILL ENSUE WHICH WILL ADVANCE TOWARDS A
CLIMAX.

If this unbroken continuity of hostile operations really existed,
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 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 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.

15. 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, 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 destroy each other. In a battle both sides strive 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.

16. ATTACK AND DEFENCE ARE THINGS DIFFERING IN KIND AND OF UNEQUAL
FORCE. POLARITY IS, THEREFORE, NOT APPLICABLE TO THEM.

If there was only one form of War, to wit, the attack of the
enemy, therefore no defence; or, in other words, if the attack was
distinguished from the defence 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: 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 defence, which,
as we shall hereafter explain more particularly, are very different and
of unequal strength. Polarity therefore lies in that to which both bear
a relation, in the decision, but not in the attack or defence 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. This is the direct antagonism of interests, but it by no means
follows that it would be for B's interest to attack A at once. That is
plainly something totally different.

17. THE EFFECT OF POLARITY IS OFTEN DESTROYED BY THE SUPERIORITY OF THE
DEFENCE OVER THE ATTACK, AND THUS THE SUSPENSION OF ACTION IN WAR IS
EXPLAINED.

If the form of defence is stronger than that of offence, 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 counter-weight
over-balance the latter, and thus influence the progress of the action
of the War. We see, therefore, that the impulsive force existing in the
polarity of interests may be lost in the difference between the strength
of the offensive and the defensive, and thereby become ineffectual.

If, therefore, that side for which the present is favourable, is too
weak to be able to dispense with the advantage of the defensive, he must
put up with the unfavourable prospects which the future holds out; for
it may still be better to fight a defensive battle in the unpromising
future than to assume the offensive or make peace at present. Now, being
convinced that the superiority of the defensive(*) (rightly understood)
is very great, and much greater than may appear at first sight, we
conceive that the greater number of those periods of inaction which
occur in war are thus explained without involving any contradiction.
The weaker the motives to action are, the more will those motives be
absorbed and neutralised by this difference between attack and defence,
the more frequently, therefore, will action in warfare be stopped, as
indeed experience teaches.

(*) It must be remembered that all this antedates by some
years the introduction of long-range weapons.

18 A SECOND GROUND CONSISTS IN THE IMPERFECT KNOWLEDGE OF CIRCUMSTANCES.

But there is still another cause which may stop action in War, viz., 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 the initiative rests with
his adversary when it lies really with himself. This want of perfect
insight might certainly just as often occasion an untimely action as
untimely inaction, 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 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 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, 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.

19. 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 periods of inaction, so much the more easily can an error
be repaired; therefore, so much the bolder a General will be in his
calculations, so much 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.

20. THEREFORE, THE 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 which stands so
constantly and so generally in close connection with chance as War.
But together with chance, the accidental, and along with it good luck,
occupy a great place in War.

21. 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 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 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, 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 coarse and fine threads of its web, and makes War of all
branches of human activity the most like a gambling game.

22. HOW THIS ACCORDS BEST WITH THE 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 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 and danger make the element into which it launches itself as
a 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 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 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
varieties of these necessary and 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.

23. WAR IS ALWAYS A SERIOUS MEANS FOR A SERIOUS OBJECT. ITS MORE
PARTICULAR DEFINITION.

Such is War; such the Commander who conducts it; 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, are only particular
properties of this means.

The War of a community--of whole Nations, and particularly of civilised
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, and absolute expression of force, as we had to
deduct 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 mine at the moment of explosion cannot be guided into any
other direction than that which has been given to it by preparatory
arrangements. 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 not develop themselves completely
in the same manner and in the same measure, but which at one time expand
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 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., if we reflect that War has its root in a political
object, then naturally 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 lawgiver 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.
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.

24. 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 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 the
Commander in each particular 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 include the object in our conception.

25. 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 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 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 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. 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.

26. THEY MAY ALL BE REGARDED AS POLITICAL ACTS.

Returning now to the main subject, although it is true that in one
kind of War 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 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.

27. 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 opposition to all military history. This is
the only means of 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 Statesman and General exercises 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 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.

28. RESULT FOR THEORY.

War is, therefore, not only chameleon-like in character, because it
changes its colour in some degree in each particular case, but it 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.

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
political objects belong to the Government alone.

These three tendencies, which appear like so many different law-givers,
are deeply rooted in the nature of the subject, and at the same 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 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." 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.