On War

by Carl von Clausewitz

That, however, does not imply that the political aim is a tyrant. It must adapt itself to its chosen means, a process which can radically change it; yet the political aim remains the first consideration.

WAR IS MERELY THE CONTINUATION OF POLICY BY OTHER MEANS

The political object is the goal, war is the means of reaching it, and means can never be considered in isolation from their purpose.

The more powerful and inspiring the motives for war, the more they affect the belligerent nations and the fiercer the tensions that precede the outbreak, the closer will war approach its abstract concept, the more important will be the destruction of the enemy, the more closely will the military aims and the political objects of war coincide, and the more military and less political will war appear to be.

the less intense the motives, the less will the military element's natural tendency to violence coincide with political directives. As a result, war will be driven further from its natural course, the political object will be more and more at variance with the aim of ideal war, and the conflict will seem increasingly political in character.

First, therefore, it is clear that war should never be thought of as something autonomous but always as an instrument of policy;

The first, the supreme, the most far-reaching act of judgment that the statesman and commander have to make is to establish by that test the kind of war on which they are embarking; neither mistaking it for, nor trying to turn it into, something that is alien to its nature.

War is more than a true chameleon that slightly adapts its characteristics to the given case. As a total phenomenon its dominant tendencies always make war a paradoxical trinity—composed of primordial violence, hatred, and enmity, which are to be regarded as a blind natural force; of the play of chance and probability within which the creative spirit is free to roam; and of its element of subordination, as an instrument of policy, which makes it subject to reason alone.

Our task therefore is to develop a theory that maintains a balance between these three tendencies, like an object suspended between three magnets.

the war, that is the animosity and the reciprocal effects of hostile elements, cannot be considered to have ended so long as the enemy's will has not been broken: in other words, so long as the enemy government and its allies have not been driven to ask for peace, or the population made to submit.

But wars have in fact been fought between states of very unequal strength, for actual war is often far removed from the pure concept postulated by theory. Inability to carry on the struggle can, in practice, be replaced by two other grounds for making peace: the first is the improbability of victory; the second is its unacceptable cost.

analysis of probabilities may lead to peace itself.

When the motives and tensions of war are slight we can imagine that the very faintest prospect of defeat might be enough to cause one side to yield. If from the very start the other side feels that this is probable, it will obviously concentrate on bringing about this probability rather than take the long way round and totally defeat the enemy.

Once the expenditure of effort exceeds the value of the political object, the object must be renounced and peace must follow.

When we attack the enemy, it is one thing if we mean our first operation to be followed by others until all resistance has been broken; it is quite another if our aim is only to obtain a single victory, in order to make the enemy insecure, to impress our greater strength upon him, and to give him doubts about his future. If that is the extent of our aim, we will employ no more strength than is absolutely necessary.

If on the other hand we do not aim at destroying the opposing army, and if we are convinced that the enemy does not seek a brutal decision, but rather fears it, then the seizure of a lightly held or undefended province is an advantage in itself; and should this advantage be enough to make the enemy fear for the final outcome, it can be considered as a short cut on the road to peace.

It is possible to increase the likelihood of success without defeating the enemy's forces. I refer to operations that have direct political repercussions, that are designed in the first place to disrupt the opposing alliance, or to paralyze it, that gain us new allies, favorably affect the political scene, etc. If such operations are possible it is obvious that they can greatly improve our prospects and that they can form a much shorter route to the goal than the destruction of the opposing armies.

how to influence the enemy's expenditure of effort; in other words, how to make th...

wastage of his forces— our destruction of them; and in his loss of te...

all that matters is to show that, given certain conditions, different ways of reaching the objective are possible and that they are neither inconsistent, absurd, nor even mistaken.

wear down the enemy. That expression is more than a label; it describes the process precisely, and is not so metaphorical as it may seem at first. Wearing down the enemy in a conflict means using the duration of the war to bring about a gradual exhaustion of his physical and moral resistance.

the negative purpose derive all the advantages, all the more effective forms, of fighting, and that in it is expressed the dynamic relationship between the magnitude and the likelihood of success.

If a negative aim—that is, the use of every means available for pure resistance—gives an advantage in war, the advantage need only be enough to balance any superiority the opponent may possess: in the end his political object will not seem worth the effort it costs. He must then renounce his policy. It is evident that this method, wearing down the enemy, applies to the great number of cases where the weak endeavor to resist the strong.

that in war many roads lead to success, and that they do not all involve the opponent's outright defeat. They range from the destruction of the enemy's forces, the conquest of his territory, to a temporary occupation or invasion, to projects with an immediate political purpose, and finally to passively awaiting the enemy's attacks. Any one of these may be used to overcome the enemy's will: the choice depends on circumstances.

If all threads of military activity lead to the engagement, then if we control the engagement, we comprehend them all.

Thus there are many reasons why the purpose of an engagement may not be the destruction of the enemy's forces, the forces immediately confronting us. Destruction may be merely a means to some other end. In such a case, total destruction has ceased to be the point; the engagement is nothing but a trial of strength. In itself it is of no value; its significance lies in the outcome of the trial.

Combat is the only effective force in war; its aim is to destroy the enemy's forces as a means to a further end.

It follows that the destruction of the enemy's force underlies all military actions; all plans are ultimately based on it, resting on it like an arch on its abutment.

The decision by arms is for all major and minor operations in war what cash payment is in commerce.

Greater effectiveness relates not to the means but to the end; we are simply comparing the effect of different outcomes.

The advantage that the destruction of the enemy possesses over all other means is balanced by its cost and danger; and it is only in order to avoid these risks that other policies are employed.

If, therefore, one of the two commanders is resolved to seek a decision through major battles, he will have an excellent chance of success if he is certain that his opponent is pursuing a different policy. Conversely, the commander who wishes to adopt different means can reasonably do so only if he assumes his opponent to be equally unwilling to resort to major battles.

Our discussion has shown that while in war many different roads can lead to the goal, to the attainment of the political object, fighting is the only possible means.

To sum up: of all the possible aims in war, the destruction of the enemy's armed forces always appears as the highest.

But he must never forget that he is moving on devious paths where the god of war may catch him unawares. He must always keep an eye on his opponent so that he does not, if the latter has taken up a sharp sword, approach him armed only with an ornamental rapier.

Genius consists in a harmonious combination of elements, in which one or the other ability may predominate, but none may be in conflict with the rest.

War is the realm of uncertainty;

War is the realm of chance.

Since all information and assumptions are open to doubt, and with chance at work everywhere, the commander continually finds that things are not as he expected.

relentless struggle with the unforeseen,

the role of determination is to limit the agonies of doubt and the perils of hesitation when the motives for action are inadequate.

But when a man has adequate grounds for action—whether subjective or objective, valid or false—he cannot properly be called “determined.”

Men of low intelligence, therefore, cannot possess determination in the sense in which we use the word. They may act without hesitation in a crisis, but if they do, they act without reflection; and a man who acts without reflection cannot, of course, be torn by doubt.

presence of mind. This must play a great role in war, the domain of the unexpected, since it is nothing but an increased capacity of dealing with the unexpected.

Four elements make up the climate of war: danger, exertion, uncertainty, and chance.

All other effects of enemy action, however, are felt by the men under his command, and through them react on him.

Of all the passions that inspire man in battle, none, we have to admit, is so powerful and so constant as the longing for honor and renown.

Other emotions may be more common and more venerated—patriotism, idealism, vengeance, enthusiasm of every kind—but they are no substitute for a thirst for fame and honor.

They cannot give him, as can ambition, a personal, almost proprietary interest in every aspect of fighting, so that he turns each opportunity to best advantage—plowing with vigor, sowing with care, in the hope of reaping with abundance.

we may well ask whether history has ever known a great general who was not ambitious; whether, indeed, such a figure is conceivable.