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MORE ON WAR
MORE ON WAR

MARTIN VAN CREVELD

1
 3
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX DP,
United Kingdom
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© Martin van Creveld 
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and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
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For those who study war, wherever it is studied, as long as it is studied.
You may not be interested in war, but war may be interested in you.
—Leon Trotsky
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book has two sets of roots. The first push came back in 
when my friend, Major (ret.) Dan Fayutkin, who was then on the Israel
Defense Forces’ General Staff, asked me to do a short essay on the
essence of strategy. I did in fact write the piece; however, the IDF never
took up the idea. As a result, the Hebrew version of the piece remains
unpublished.
The second push came three years later when the Swedish War
College asked me to participate in a conference on military thought
they were organizing. I yield to nobody in my admiration for Sun Tzu
and Clausewitz. Working on this volume, one of the first things
I learnt was how hard writing theory really is. How Clausewitz in
particular did it without using a word processor is beyond me. Still
I have long felt that, with reason or without, they had not thought
through certain things and answered certain questions. Now,
I thought, my opportunity had come.
Other people who, in one way or another, have helped me—
sometimes without being aware that they did—include Professor
Emeritus Eyal Ben Ari; General (ret.) Prof. Yitzhak Ben Israel; Dr.
Robert Bunker; Colonel (ret.) Dr. Moshe Ben David; Mr. Niv David;
Dr. Steve Canby; Lieutenant Jeff Clement; Professor Emeritus Yair
Evron; Dr. Asia Haun; Dr. Yagil Henkin; Mr. Hagai Klein; Major Dr.
Lee Ting Ting; Dr. Jonathan Lewy (my beloved stepson); Dr. Edward
Luttwak; Mr. Andy Marshall; Mr. Samuel Nelson-Mann; Colonel Prof.
John Olsen; Dr. Tim Sweijs; General (ret.) Jake Thackeray; General
(ret.) Dr. Erich Vad; Eldad and Uri van Creveld (my beloved sons); and
Professor Martin Wagener. Each and all have made a substantial
contribution to this book. But for them, it could not have been
completed.
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

When I first undertook this task my dear wife, Dvora, doubted my

ability to do it as it should be done. Now that it is complete, I still do
not know whether I have convinced her. Never mind, Dvora. But for
you this book, like most of the rest, would never have been born.
I love you.

x
 CONTENTS

Introduction: The Crisis of Military Theory 

I. Why War? 

II. Economics and War 

III. The Challenge of War 

IV. Building the Forces 

V. The Conduct of War 

VI. On Strategy 

VII. War at Sea 

VIII. Air War, Space War, and Cyberwar 

IX. Nuclear War 

X. War and Law 

XI. Asymmetric War 

Perspectives: Change, Continuity, and the Future 

Notes 
Index 
 Introduction
The Crisis of Military Theory

. Studying War

W ar is the most important thing in the world. When the chips

are down, it rules over the existence of every single country,
government, and individual. That is why, though it may come but
once in a hundred years, it must be prepared for every day. When the
bodies lie cold and stiff, and the survivors mourn over them, those in
charge have failed in their duty.
So many books have been written on war that, had they been put
aboard the Titanic, the ship would have sunk without any help from the
iceberg. From Thucydides shortly before  BC to the present, there
have been many excellent military historians. Their contribution to our
understanding of war is immense and growing. Yet history and theory
are not the same. History focuses on the specific, the transient, and the
non-repeatable. It seeks to record what happened, understand why it
happened, and, perhaps, where things may be going. Theory, on which
more later, tries to discover patterns and uses them to draw generaliza-
tions valid for more than one time and one place. It both describes and,
at times, prescribes the nature of the subject matter; what its causes and
purpose are; into what parts it should be divided; how it relates to all
sorts of other things; and how to cope with it and manage it.
In almost every field of human thought and action, good philo-
sophers abound. They have examined their subjects, be they aesthetics


 INTRODUCTION

or ethics or logic or the existence of God, and dissected them into their
component parts. Next they re-assembled them, often in new and
surprising ways that helped readers to expand their knowledge and
gain understanding. Yet in two and a half millennia there have only
been two really important military theoreticians. All the rest, including
some who were famous in their own times, have been more or less
forgotten.
Names such as Frontinus (c.– AD), Vegetius (first half of the fifth
century AD), the Byzantine Emperor Maurice (–), Antoine-Henry
Jomini (–), Basil Liddell Hart (–), and many others
matter only to a few specialists in the field. This even applies to Niccolò
Machiavelli’s Arte de la guerra (), which for two centuries gave its title
to many other volumes in several languages. Yet Machiavelli is remem-
bered almost exclusively because of his political thought rather than
for anything he said about war and armies.
The reasons why these and so many other theorists were forgotten
are close at hand. War is a practical business—so much so, some have
claimed, as to discourage abstract thought about it. It has much in
common with playing an instrument or, at the higher levels, conduct-
ing an orchestra. Those who wage it do so to gain victory, not to dish
up all sorts of insights. In themselves, not even the best theories can
save us from the enemy’s sharp sword. This fact made most theorists,
who were hoping to proffer practical advice to practically minded
commanders, focus on how to organize for war, wage war, fight in
war, and so on.
As they did so, they often overlooked two facts. First, no two armed
conflicts are ever the same. Second, war itself, forming an integral part
of human history, is forever changing and will continue to change.
The former problem caused many theorists to engage in a futile and/
or pedantic quest for “principles” or “maxims.” The latter shackled
them to their particular times and places. That again took them into
the kind of detail that has long become irrelevant. For example, both
Alfred Mahan (–) and Julian Corbett (–), the greatest
naval theorists of all time, noted the importance of coal in naval


 INTRODUCTION

warfare. The latter did so just when the Royal Navy was switching to
oil, a very different commodity. Countless others have shared the
same fate. Seeking to be up to date, they all but guaranteed that they
would soon be out of date.
To this rule there have only been two exceptions. The first was the
Chinese commander and sage Sun Tzu (c.– BC). The second, the
Prussian soldier-philosopher Carl von Clausewitz (–). Both
have had their exits and their entries. At times they were, or were
supposed to be, read by everybody with an interest in the subject. At
others they were dismissed as too old, too limited, too philosophical,
or all of these. Clausewitz in particular has been more often quoted
than read and understood. Nevertheless, both are giants who stand out
head and shoulders above the rest. In one form or another they will
endure as long as war does. If those who claim that war is in terminal
decline are right, perhaps longer.
That is not to say that either volume is without problems—
especially Clausewitz’s On War, which, at the time of its author’s
death in , was mostly a mass of disordered papers. First, neither
Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz has anything to say about the causes of war or
the purposes for which it is fought. In the case of Sun Tzu, that is
because he opens by saying that war is “a matter of vital importance of
the state, the province of life or death, the road to survival or ruin.
[Therefore] it is mandatory that it be thoroughly studied.”1 From
there, while not blaming war on anybody or anything, he proceeds
straight to its preparation and conduct.
By contrast, Clausewitz defines war as the continuation of Politik, a
term that may mean either policy or politics. In Clausewitz’s Prussia,
discussion of the best way to conduct a war, even submitting formal
written objections, was permitted. Yet he never doubted that, once the
sovereign or his representative had issued the orders, commanders
and soldiers should and would swing into action. Within their own
rather narrow domain, so would civilians. At any rate they had to
remain calm, as the governor of Berlin, following Prussia’s smashing
defeat by Napoleon in October , put it. Clausewitz, in other


 INTRODUCTION

words, ignored both the purpose policy might serve and the question,
“why.” By so doing, he grossly exaggerated the ability of rulers to start
and conduct war for any purpose and in any way they pleased.
Second, neither Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz have much to say about
the relationship between economics and war. Sun Tzu at any rate
sounds a cautionary note by commenting on the prodigious cost of
war. Clausewitz does not even do that. Had he been asked why, no
doubt he would have answered that economics, though essential, do
not form part of war proper. Strictly speaking, he may have been right.
Still, as Friedrich Engels in particular was to point out, so important
are economics, “the dismal science,” in respect to war, and war in
respect to economics, that neglecting them can only be called a grave
shortcoming. One could certainly argue that, in World War II and
many others, economics did more to determine the outcome than any
military moves did.
Third, both writers tend to take the point of view of senior com-
manders. The examples they use reflect that fact. So does their
readership; they do not address every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Sun
Tzu’s The Art of War, like similar Chinese treatises, was never meant
for publication. It was kept secret in the archives where only a selected
few had access to it. It is probably no accident that the earliest known
text was found in a royal grave dating to the second century BC. On War,
for its part, was initially sold by subscription among Prussian officers.
Proceeding from the top down, both books tend to make war,
especially as experienced by the common soldier, appear more
rational and more subject to control than it is. They forget that, for
every order that is implemented, there are several, perhaps many,
which never are. The problem is particularly obvious in Sun Tzu.
Like his rough contemporary Confucius he focuses on the elite, treat-
ing the rest as mere human material. Saying that, on the battlefield,
everything looks like confusion, he omits to add that, to countless
combatants of all times and places, it is nothing but confusion and the
most awful one at that. Often, as long as they themselves are all right,
the troops—tired, hungry, exhausted, and afraid—can have little time


 INTRODUCTION

to reflect on anything beyond this very immediate fact. Never more so

then from  on when growing firepower caused drill to be dis-
carded and led to “the empty battlefield.” And never more so than in
intrastate war between various, often shifting and hard to separate,
factions. The possibility that soldiers, let alone civilians, may have
their own ideas and that these ideas may influence the conduct of war
at all levels is hardly mentioned.
Neither Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz can be accused of having entirely
ignored training, organization, discipline, and leadership. However,
their discussions are not without problems. The former limits himself
to a few aphorisms. The latter’s chapters on organization are mostly
dated. As, for example, when he writes about the best way to coordi-
nate infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Worse still, in On War factors such
as “the military virtues,” boldness, “perseverance,” and so on fall under
the rubric of “strategy.” That fits neither the author’s definition of that
term nor ours.
Fourth, both Sun Tzu and Clausewitz come close to ignoring the
implements of war, i.e. the field broadly known as military technol-
ogy. Sun Tzu only has a few words to say about it. Clausewitz does
mention it, but only to add that it relates to war as the art of the smith
relates to that of fencing. Both authors knew very well that wars were
fought with swords, spears, bows, muskets, cannon, and whatever.
Both must also have understood that technology—finding the right
weapons, as the British military historian and strategist J. F. C. Fuller
once put it—is one of the most important factors that determine the
shape of warfare at any given time and place. Equally obviously,
though, they did not see technology as a fundamental factor deserving
profound consideration. The reason, it seems, was that they saw all the
armies of their day using roughly the same technology; and that rapid
technological progress such as has become almost self-evident from
 on did not exist.
Fifth, neither Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz has much to say about staff
work, logistics, and intelligence. Some of what Clausewitz does say,
e.g. concerning the number of tent-horses an army needs, is badly


 INTRODUCTION

dated. Yet staff work and logistics are the building-stones of war. To
paraphrase the World War II British Field Marshal Sir Archibald
Wavell (–), the combinations of strategy are sufficiently sim-
ple for any amateur to grasp. It is by looking after the logistics, defined
as the practical art of moving armies and keeping them supplied, that
the professional proves himself. Looking at a globe, an armchair
strategist may have little difficulty deciding where the nation’s carriers
should be based. But taking charge of loading a ,-ton vessel with
the tens of thousands of different items it must take aboard before
leaving port requires lots and lots of expertise.
As to intelligence, both authors, each in his own way, only refer to
certain aspects of it. Sun Tzu emphasizes the importance of intelli-
gence and explains the various kinds of spies a commander may use to
obtain it. However, he has almost nothing to say about its nature or
the way it is or should be interpreted. Clausewitz discusses the nature
of military intelligence and the role it plays in war. But he barely
touches on the way it is obtained. Their discussions of the subject
stand in urgent need of being expanded and updated.
Sixth, both Sun Tzu and Clausewitz emphasize the most important
characteristic of strategy: namely, its mutual, interactive nature and
the way that nature determines its conduct. Sun Tzu makes mutuality
the lynchpin of his work but only goes so far in elaborating upon this.
With Clausewitz, both the nature and the consequences of strategy
tend to be lost among a great many other less important topics. That is
why a modern discussion of it is needed.
Seventh, neither is interested in war at sea. Perhaps that is because, in
their days, neither China nor Prussia were maritime powers. Or else it
reflects the fact that, until World War II inclusive, armies and navies
were managed by separate offices or ministries. War at sea is probably
younger than its land-bound counterpart. Yet it is depicted on
,-year-old Chinese and Egyptian reliefs. Starting with the Battle of
Salamis in  BC, which caused the Persian invasion of Greece to fail,
and ending with the great battles in the Pacific in –, on occasion it
has been as decisive as any of its terra firma equivalents. But for their


 INTRODUCTION

command of the sea, the British in  would never have been able to
reach, let alone recover, the Falkland Islands.
Eighth, and for obvious reasons, neither Sun Tzu nor Clausewitz
addresses air war (including its maritime branch). The same goes for
space war and cyberwar. Nor does there seem to be any modern
volume that discusses all these fields on an equal basis, linking them
with, and placing them within, the more traditional aspects of strat-
egy. On the other hand, and if only because military budgets are going
down, at the beginning of the twenty-first century no call is heard
more often than the one for “jointness.” That is why such a volume is
urgently needed.
Ninth, and again for obvious reasons, neither author addresses
what, since , has become by far the most important form of
“war”—nuclear war. Whether space war, cyberwar (and network
war, and culture-centric war, and hybrid war, and effect-based
operations, and any number of other kinds that crop up almost
daily) are as revolutionary as their originators claim is moot. What
ought not to be moot is that nuclear weapons, by casting doubt on the
usefulness of war as a political instrument, wrought the greatest
revolution military history has ever seen. Like gigantic mushrooms,
they cast their shadow over everything else. Nor will they ever stop
doing so. Theories which ignore that fact—whether because they were
written before the atomic age or through the authors’ own fault—do
so at their peril.
Tenth, neither has much to say about the law of war. In the case of
Sun Tzu that may be because such a thing barely existed, or so some
scholars claim. In that of Clausewitz, it is because he dismisses it in a
sentence or two. He says that the law in question hardly diminishes
the elementary violence of war.2 Strongly influenced by Prussia’s
crushing defeat at the hands of Napoleon, the claim is understandable.
In some ways it is also correct. Nevertheless, we shall see that law,
informal or formal, unwritten or written, plays as great a role in shaping
war as it does in shaping any other social phenomenon. Some would
say that, since  or so, its importance has been growing. To the point


 INTRODUCTION

where, in some cases, it has placed strict limits on the war-making

abilities of counterinsurgent forces in particular.
Eleventh, neither is much interested in war between asymmetric
belligerents. In this context the word “asymmetric” has two different
meanings. First, it may mean war between communities, or organiza-
tions belonging to different civilizations. In the case of Sun Tzu, this
lack of interest rests on the fact that he lived, commanded, and wrote
(if he did) during the so-called Period of the Warring States (c.–
BC). His career unfolded against the background of constant warfare
among very similar polities in what the Chinese used to call “all under
heaven” (Ti’an). He may also have been too contemptuous of the
“barbarians” to devote a special chapter to them. Clausewitz’s focus
on intra-civilizational war is indicated by his insistence that European
armies were growing alike, making quantity more important than
quality. At the time he wrote the military gap between Europe and
the rest of the world was increasing day by day; and in any case Prussia
was not a colonial power.
But “asymmetric” can also have another meaning. It may refer to a
situation where, instead of armies confronting one another, advancing
against each other, fighting each other, etc., the belligerents on both
sides are of completely different kinds. Irregulars, also known as
freedom fighters (partisans), insurgents, rebels, guerillas, bandits,
and, last not least, terrorists, may take on armies that are, initially at
least, much stronger than themselves. Armies may face irregulars
who, initially at least, are much weaker than themselves. Clausewitz
at any rate lectured about the problem and gave it a chapter in On War.
Sun Tzu did not. Neither provided an intellectual framework capable
of containing both symmetric and asymmetric war. Nor does anyone
else. The lack of such a framework contributed to, though it did not
cause, the inability of the colonial powers to hold on to their empires
as well as the American and Soviet defeats in Vietnam, Afghanistan,
and Iraq II.
The final reason that made me write the present volume is because,
as I can testify from years of experience as a teacher, many young


 INTRODUCTION

people find both authors hard to understand. With Sun Tzu the
problem is the aphoristic style as well as the fact that most of the
names mentioned by his various disciples mean nothing to the mod-
ern reader. With Clausewitz it reflects the unfinished nature of his
work and his sometimes highly abstract way of presenting the
material. More on War will try to fill the gaps, both those that are
self-imposed and those originating in the times and places in which
the two men lived and wrote. It will expand on themes which, for one
reason or another, they neglected or left untouched, and bring their
works up to date wherever doing so seems feasible and worthwhile.
All this, in deep admiration and gratitude for what they have
accomplished.

. Practice, History, and Theory

To say it again, waging war and fighting it are practical activities much
like playing an instrument or, at the higher levels, conducting an
orchestra. Hence one of the best, perhaps the best if not the only,
ways to familiarize oneself with it is to practice it. As the saying goes,
the best teacher of war is war. Other things being equal, the larger and
more complex the “orchestra” the greater the role of the conductor, i.e.
the commander. It is he who is ultimately responsible for coordinating
the efforts of everybody else and directing them towards the objective.
All the while taking care that the enemy will not interfere with his
plans and demolish them.
Commanders must start by mastering their job at the lowest level.
As the ancient historian Plutarch wrote of the Roman general Titus
Flamininus (– BC), by serving as a soldier he learnt how to
command soldiers. Next, commanders must proceed from one rung
to the next until the most competent among them reach the highest
level of all. With each additional step additional factors will enter the
picture and start playing an increasingly important role. The higher
placed a commander, the more varied the kinds of weapons, equip-
ment, and units he will normally be trying to coordinate and use.


 INTRODUCTION

Some of the factors are military. Many others are political, eco-
nomic, social, cultural, and religious. All must be studied, grasped,
mastered, and coordinated with all the rest. Such is the nature of war
that, at the top, there is hardly any aspect of human behavior, indi-
vidual and collective, which does not impinge on its conduct. And
which, as a result, those in charge do not have to take into account and
act upon.
Throughout history some commanders reached their positions and
exercised their craft almost purely by virtue of practice combined with
their own genius. Take André Massena (–), the field marshal of
whom Napoleon said that he was “the greatest name of my military
Empire.”3 Massena was the son of a semi-literate peasant. He served as
a sergeant and then spent two years as a smuggler before re-enlisting.
He went all the way to the top—without, however, ever entering a
military academy. Erwin Rommel, one of the best-known German
generals of World War II, did not attend the General Staff College or
Kriegsakademie either.
Another example was Ariel Sharon (–), probably the most
gifted operational commander the Israel Defense Force ever produced.
Sharon started off as a twenty-year-old private who, in darkness and
pouring rain, defended his home village near Tel Aviv against the
invading Iraqis in . No sooner did he demonstrate his exceptional
abilities than, skipping officer school, he was put in charge of others.
Yet neither experience nor genius suffice. Rarely will the experience
of any single person cover all the factors with which, assuming
positions of greater and greater responsibility, he must cope. As
King Frederick the Great of Prussia (r. –) is supposed to have
said, had experience been enough then the best commander should
have been the mule that the Austrian commander Prince Eugene of
Savoy (–) rode on campaign.4 Worse still, experience can
make those who have it impervious to change. The faster things
change, the greater the danger.
Geniuses, by definition, are few and far between. Since one cannot
predict or command their appearance in history, they are also


 INTRODUCTION

unreliable. Stalin, at one dark moment in World War II, is supposed

to have said, “We do not have a steady supply of Hindenburgs.”5
Whether or not Hindenburg was a genius is not at issue here. What is
at issue is that, since most of those destined for high command and
desirous of exercising it are not geniuses, they will have to do as best
they can by relying on study and education instead. As Clausewitz
says, from knowledge to capability is a great step. From ignorance to
proficiency, a greater one still.6
The future is unknown and unknowable. To assume it will be like
the past is dangerous—nowhere more so than in war. Nevertheless,
study and education can only be based on past experience. Preferably
that of others, for in war any lessons learnt must often be paid for with
blood. Experience, properly researched, properly organized, and
clearly presented is known as history. Of military history Napoleon
once said that any aspiring commander should “peruse again and again
the campaigns of Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Gustavus Adolphus,
[the French commander] Turenne, Eugene and Frederick the Great.”7
He should, the emperor added, “model [him]self upon them. This is the
only means of becoming a great captain. [His] own genius will be
enlightened and improved by this study, and [he] will learn to reject all
maxims foreign to the principles of these great commanders.”
Note that three of the seven operated over eighteen centuries before
Napoleon’s own day, in worlds utterly different from his. Many
students, accustomed to constant and rapid change and even taking
it for granted, will refuse to admit that ancient (and medieval, though
Napoleon does not say so) military history can be quite as useful as
that which deals with recent events. After all, what can one learn from
armies whose most powerful weapon was the pike and whose fastest
way of communicating consisted of mounted messengers?
So ubiquitous is this error that not even Clausewitz is exempt from
it. The detailed studies he wrote and on which he drew only go back to
Gustavus Adolphus in the s. Earlier wars are mentioned in passing
and almost exclusively to show how irrelevant they are. Specifically,
Clausewitz says, ancient history did not have any lessons to offer


 INTRODUCTION

“practical” people responsible for preparing war and waging it. Such
lessons could only be found in recent wars, which in terms of organ-
ization and equipment were more or less like those of his own day. As
to what “recent” might mean, he provided not one answer but three
different ones. A clearer sign that he never thought out the problem to
the end would be hard to find. With all due respect to the master, that
is not the way to go.
Furthermore, Clausewitz is wrong in assuming that the main value
of military history consists of its ability to provide “lessons” to follow
or avoid. Such “lessons” are a dime a dozen. Often they are also
contradictory and can be used to prove practically anything. Rather,
it is in excavating and bringing to light a reality that, precisely because it
was very different from the present, can provide us with a basis for
comparison. History, especially the history of times long past, is like a
magnifying mirror. It can bring out all the blemishes, enabling those
who look into it to learn from them and correct them. To use another
analogy, the student is like an apprentice who spends some consider-
able time living and working in a foreign culture. Studying it and
immersing himself in it, he may gain a deeper appreciation of the
culture in question—that is self-evident—but also, which may be even
more important, his own.
Above all, he may realize, must realize, that the familiar is not
necessarily all that exists; or can exist; or will exist; or should exist.
War is forever changing in a kaleidoscopic, often very rapid, variety of
unexpected ways. That is why, if there is anything a commander should
guard against, it is the belief, as German Chief of Staff Alfred von
Schlieffen (served –) once put it, that das Denkbare ist erreicht
(the conceivable has been attained). Hopefully, studying military history
will help protect against that error, and the more remote, the stranger
and the less like the present that history is, the better it should so
protect. It can, however, do so only if it is studied on its own terms
rather than simply as a quest for “origins,” “lessons,” and “examples.”
It is on history that theory is built. Religion (“God’s will”), astrology,
magic, intuition, and “common sense”—so often used as a substitute for


 INTRODUCTION

study—aside, it is the only basis on which it can be built at all. To be

sure, no theory can possibly do justice to the complexity of life. On the
other hand, but for theory any lessons history may offer will remain
obscure, causing means to dominate ends. Without theory those,
always the great majority, who neither had the opportunity to learn
everything by experience nor are geniuses will be unable to distinguish
the relevant from the irrelevant. Each time they embark on some
enterprise they will have to re-invent the wheel. Even Lord Nelson,
Mahan suggested, could have done with a little formal study, especially
during his early days when it was not yet available to, or required of,
naval officers. Finally, without theory, there is no stock of common
ideas, no common terminology. As to what happens when there is no
such terminology, see the biblical story of the Tower of Babylon.
Theory should be neither a restatement of the obvious nor a jumble
of hard-to-understand—often vague, contradictory, and irrelevant—
propositions. Still less should it try to foresee every eventuality that
might arise and provide a schoolbook solution. It should be neither a
manual nor a list of easy steps towards self-improvement. At its best it
is simply an attempt to codify the examples, analogies, and principles
that history may offer. It dismantles the subject into its parts; separates
the essential from the inessential ones; examines the nature of each;
and analyzes their relationship with each other as well as other things.
Finally it puts them together again in ways that will enlighten and
assist those who peruse it.
A worthwhile theory must meet a number of demands. First, it
must be aware of its own limits—the things it can and, above all,
cannot do. Second, it must define the subject it deals with as precisely
as the nature of that subject allows. Third, it must be as unified, as
systematic, as comprehensive, and, yes, as elegant as possible. Fourth,
it must be sufficiently detailed to be useful, yet not so detailed as to
degenerate into hair-splitting. It must be logical without ever losing
touch with the historical reality on which it is based; firm without
being dogmatic; and sufficiently flexible to adapt to changing circum-
stances as they arise.


 INTRODUCTION

All this might make the reader think that the value of Sun Tzu and
Clausewitz consists mainly, if not exclusively, in the support they
provide for military officers on the way to mastering and exercising
their craft. Such a view is understandable but wrong. It is as if we
valued Beethoven because the European Union took the final move-
ment of his th Symphony as its anthem.
If The Art of War and On War are as exceptional as they are, then that
is precisely because they do so much more than merely support
commanders by providing them with a compass to guide their
actions. They do that, of course, but they also create a sort of map.
One which, in spite of the above-mentioned limitations, has proved
remarkably able to accommodate change. Their subject matter, war, is
the most fearful on earth. Many people would much prefer to con-
template art, beauty, justice, love, and whatnot. Still, the nature of the
subject should not prevent these works from being valued at their true
worth. Namely, as treasures of the human spirit in the same sense that
the works of the above-mentioned philosophers are.

. The Plan of this Volume

The ultimate objective of this volume is to gain understanding—for

myself, perhaps for some others too. But I have also tried to make it
useful to some of those who, preparing to bear heavy responsibility,
may one day plan and wage war. Not by offering them a list of maxims
to follow, but by providing soil which may nourish their own
thought. Doing so implied several things. First, I tried to make it
more comprehensive than either The Art of War or On War. Second,
assuming that busy people can only devote so much time to study and
education, I restricted its length. Hopefully doing so has also made it
possible to focus on essentials and avoid going into excessive detail.
Third, I tried to use simple, non-technical, jargon-free language.
In particular, I wanted to avoid acronyms. Too often they float
about like clots in the bloodstream, threatening to block people’s
brains. Here, again, I take comfort from the fact that neither Sun


 INTRODUCTION

Tzu nor Clausewitz uses them. Simplicity also required using the male
form for both sexes (as Strunk and White in The Elements of Style
recommend, as does William Zinsser in On Writing Well). Fourth,
I have done my best to combine and balance abstract reasoning,
historical examples, and quotations in such a way as to make them
shed light upon each other, forming an integrated whole.
To sum up, those are my goals. As to whether they have been
achieved—let the reader decide.


 I

Why War?

. Emotions and Drives

S trictly speaking, the causes of war are not part of it any more than
an egg is part of the chicken that was hatched out of it. To that
extent Sun Tzu and Clausewitz, who each in his own way come close
to ignoring the question, cannot be faulted. Still, studying the nature,
life, qualities, and behavior of a chicken, it is useful to know that it
started life inside an egg and not in the womb of a mammalian female
or by cell-division as is the case with bacteria. The same applies to war.
For millennia on end, so intertwined were peace and war that many
understood the latter as a given. It was a normal, if fearful, part of
human life which did not require further explanation. Most people
hated it, suffered under it, and bemoaned its horrors. Homer in the
Iliad calls it “atrocious, the scourge of man.” Ares was “the most
hateful” god of all.1 Nevertheless, mythological tales concerning
some long-past Golden Age apart, they resigned themselves to it. In
ancient Greece, for example, many peace agreements were not really
peace agreements at all. They were, as Thucydides is supposed to have
said (but never did), “armistices in perpetual war,” explicitly designed
to expire after so-and-so many years. As late as , Spain and the
Dutch Republic agreed to suspend hostilities for twelve years. Those
over, they were supposed to resume and did resume.
So self-evident was war that few could imagine a world without it.
That even applied to many “utopian” writers, including Plato in the
Republic (c. BC), Thomas More in Utopia (), and J. V. Andreae in


Another random document with
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will sweep like a whirlwind from the lakes to the Gulf and from ocean
to ocean.”
 Frye Nominating Blaine.

In the Chicago Convention, 1880.

“I once saw a storm at sea in the nighttime; an old ship battling for
its life with the fury of the tempest; darkness everywhere; the winds
raging and howling; the huge waves beating on the sides of the ship,
and making her shiver from stem to stern. The lightning was
flashing, the thunders rolling; there was danger everywhere. I saw at
the helm, a bold, courageous, immovable, commanding man. In the
tempest, calm; in the commotion, quiet; in the danger, hopeful. I saw
him take that old ship and bring her into her harbor, into still waters,
into safety. That man was a hero. [Applause.] I saw the good old ship
of State, the State of Maine, within the last year, fighting her way
through the same waves, against the dangers. She was freighted with
all that is precious in the principles of our republic; with the rights of
the American citizenship, with all that is guaranteed to the American
citizen by our Constitution. The eyes of the whole nation were on her,
and intense anxiety filled every American heart lest the grand old
ship, the “State of Maine,” might go down beneath the waves forever,
carrying her precious freight with her. But there was a man at the
helm, calm, deliberate, commanding, sagacious; he made even the
foolish man wise; courageous, he inspired the timid with courage;
hopeful, he gave heart to the dismayed, and he brought that good old
ship safely into harbor, into safety; and she floats to-day greater,
purer, stronger for her baptism of danger. That man too, was heroic,
and his name was James G. Blaine. [Loud cheers.]
“Maine sent us to this magnificent Convention with a memory of
her own salvation from impending peril fresh upon her. To you
representatives of 50,000,000 of the American people, who have
met here to counsel how the Republic can be saved, she says,
“Representatives of the people, take the man, the true man, the
staunch man, for your leader, who has just saved me, and he will
bring you to safety and certain victory.””
 Senator Hill’s Denunciation of Senator
Mahone.

In Extra Session of the Senate, March 14, 1881.

Very well; the records of the country must settle that with the
Senator. The Senator will say who was elected as a republican from
any of the States to which I allude. I say what the whole world knows,
that there are thirty-eight men on this floor elected as democrats,
declaring themselves to be democrats, who supported Hancock, and
who have supported the democratic ticket in every election that has
occurred, and who were elected, moreover, by democratic
Legislatures, elected by Legislatures which were largely democratic;
and the Senator from New York will not deny it. One other Senator
who was elected, not as a democrat, but as an independent, has
announced his purpose to vote with us on this question. That makes
thirty-nine, unless some man of the thirty-eight who was elected by a
democratic Legislature proves false to his trust. Now, the Senator
from New York does not say that somebody has been bought. No; I
have not said that. He does not say somebody has been taken and
carried away. No; I have not said that. But the Senator has said, and
here is his language, and I hope he will not find it necessary to
correct it:
It may be said, very likely I shall be found to say despite some
criticism that I may make upon so saying in advance, that
notwithstanding the words “during the present session,” day after to-
morrow or the day after that, if the majority then present in the
Chamber changes, that majority may overthrow all this proceeding,
obliterate it, and set up an organization of the Senate in conformity
with and not in contradiction of the edict of the election.
The presidential election he was referring to—
 If an apology is needed for the objection which I feel to that, it will
be found I think in the circumstance that a majority, a constitutional
majority of the Senate, is against that resolution, is against the
formation of committees democratic in inspiration and persuasion,
to which are to go for this session all executive matters.
The Senator has announced to-day that the majority on this side of
the Chamber was only temporary. He has announced over and over
that it was to be a temporary majority. I meet him on the fact. I say
there are thirty-eight members sitting in this Hall to-day who were
elected by democratic Legislatures, and as democrats, and one
distinguished Senator who was not elected as a democrat, but by
democratic votes, the distinguished Senator from Illinois, [Mr.
Davis,] has announced his purpose to vote with these thirty-eight
democrats. Where, then, have I misrepresented? If that be true, and
if those who were elected as democrats are not faithless to the
constituency that elected them, you will not have the majority when
the Senate is full.
Again, so far from charging the Senator from New York with being
a personal party to this arrangement, I acquitted him boldly and
fearlessly, for I undertake to say what I stated before, and I repeat it,
to his credit, he is no party to an arrangement by which any man
chosen by a democratic Legislature and as a democrat is not going to
vote for the party that sent him here. Sir, I know too well what
frowns would gather with lightning fierceness upon the brow of the
Senator from New York if I were to intimate or any other man were
to intimate that he, elected as a republican, because he happened to
have a controlling vote was going to vote with the democrats on the
organization. What would be insulting to him he cannot, he will not
respect in another.
Now, sir, I say the Senator has been unjust in the conclusion which
he has drawn, because it necessarily makes somebody who was
chosen as a democrat ally himself with the republicans, not on great
questions of policy, but on a question of organization, on a question
of mere political organization. I assume that that has not been done.
No man can charge that I have come forward and assumed that his
fidelity was in question. I have assumed that the Senator from New
York was wrong in his statement. Why? Because if any gentleman
who was chosen to this body as a democrat has concluded not to vote
with the democrats on the organization, he has not given us notice,
and I take it for granted that when a gentleman changes his opinions,
as every Senator has a right to change his opinions, his first duty is to
give notice of that change to those with whom he has been
associated. He has not given that notice; no democrat of the thirty-
eight has given that notice to this side of the House. I therefore
assume that no such change has occurred.
But there is another obligation. While I concede the right of any
gentleman to change his opinions and change his party affiliations,
yet I say that when he has arrived at the conclusion that duty
requires him to make that change he must give notice to the
constituency that sent him here. I have heard of no such notice. If the
people of any of these democratic States, who through democratic
Legislatures have sent thirty-eight democrats to this body and one
more by democratic votes, have received notice of a change of party
opinion or a change of party affiliations by any of those they sent
here, I have not heard of it; the evidence of it has not been produced.
Sir, I concede the right of every man to change his opinions; I
concede the right of every man to change his party affiliations; I
concede the right of any man who was elected to the high place of a
seat in this Senate as a democrat to change and become a republican;
but I deny in the presence of this Senate, I deny in the hearing of this
people, that any man has a right to accept a commission from one
party and execute the trust confided to him in the interest of another
party. Demoralized as this country has become, though every wind
bears to us charges of fraud and bargain and corruption; though the
highest positions in the land, we fear, have been degraded by being
occupied by persons who procured them otherwise than by the
popular will, yet I deny that the people of either party in this country
have yet given any man a right to be faithless to a trust. They have
given no man a right to accept a commission as a democrat and hold
that commission and act with the republicans. Manhood, bravery,
courage, fidelity, morality, respect for the opinions of mankind
requires that whenever a man has arrived at the conclusion that he
cannot carry out the trust which was confided to him, he should
return the commission and tell his constituents, “I have changed my
mind and therefore return you the commission you gave me.” Sir, I
do not believe that a single one of the thirty-eight gentlemen who
were elected as democrats and whose names are before me here, will
hold in his pocket a commission conferred by democrats, conferred
on him as a democrat, and without giving notice to his constituency,
without giving notice to his associates, will execute that commission
in the interest of the adversary party and go and communicate his
conclusion, first of all, and only, to the members of the adversary
party.
Sir, who is it that has changed? Whom of these thirty-eight does
the Senator rely upon to vote with the republicans? That one has not
notified us; he has not notified his constituency. Therefore I say it is
not true, and I cannot sit here quietly and allow a gentleman on the
other side of the Chamber, however distinguished, to get up here and
assume and asseverate over and over that somebody elected as a
democrat is faithless to his trust, and not repel it. No, gentlemen, you
are deceived; you will be disappointed. I vindicate the character of
American citizenship, I vindicate the honor of human nature when I
say you will be disappointed, and no man elected as a democrat is
going to help you organize the committees of this Senate. I do not say
so because I know. No, I have no personal information, but I will
stand here and affirm that no man who has been deemed by any
constituency in this country to be worthy of a place in this body will
be guilty of that treachery. And how is the Senator’s majority to
come? How many are there? He has not told us. The papers said this
morning that there were two or three, and they named my good
friend from Tennessee, [Mr. Harris.] When I saw that I knew the
whole thing was absurd. The idea that anybody in this world would
ever believe that my friend from Tennessee could possibly be guilty
of such a thing, and my colleague [Mr. Brown] also was named—
gentlemen who were born and reared in the school of fidelity to their
party. How many? Have you one? If you have but one that was
elected as a democrat and who has concluded to go with the
republicans, then you have only half, you have 38 to 38, and I
suppose you count upon the vote of the Vice-President. Has that
been arranged? Sir, I will not blame you if you vote for voting
according to the sentiment that elected you, for voting according to
the professions of your principles which you avowed when you were
elected. I deny myself the right of the Vice-President to take part in
the constitution and organization of this Senate; but I shall not make
the question. If you have got one, the vote will be 38 to 38. Who is
the one? Who is ambitious to do what no man in the history of this
country has ever done, to be the first man to stand up in this high
presence, after this country has reached fifty million people, and
proclaim from this proud eminence that he disgraces the commission
he holds. [Applause in the galleries.]
The Vice-President rapped to order.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Who is it? Who can he be? Do you receive
him with affection? Do you receive him with respect? Is such a man
worthy of your association? Such a man is not worthy to be a
democrat. Is he worthy to be a republican? If my friend from Illinois,
my friend from Kansas, or my friend from New York, were to come to
me holding a republican commission in his pocket, sent here by a
republican Legislature, and whisper to me “I will vote with the
democrats on organization,” I would tell him that if he so came he
would be expelled with ignominy from the ranks of the party.
And why do you beg us to wait? If all who were elected as
democrats are to remain democrats, what good will waiting do you?
You will still be in a minority of two, the same minority you are in
this morning.
Mr. President, I affirm that no man elected and sent here by a
democratic Legislature as a democrat, whatever may have been local
issues, whatever may have been the divisions of factions, and above
all no man who professed to be a democrat when he was elected and
who procured his election by professing to be a democrat, in the
name of democracy and republicanism as well, in the name of
American nature, I charge that no such man will prove false to his
trust; and therefore why wait? Why delay the business of the
country? Why should the nominations lie on the table unacted on?
Why should we spend days and days here with the parties on the
other side filibustering for time to get delay, to get a few days? Why
should we do that when upon the assumption that the Senate is not
to blush at an exhibition of treachery the result will be the same one
week, two weeks, six months, two years from now that it is now?
Sir, I know that there is a great deal in this question. The American
people have had much to humiliate them; all peoples have much to
humiliate them. I know that the patronage of this Government has
become very great. I know that the distinguished gentleman who
presides at the other end of the Avenue holds in his hand millions
and hundreds of millions of patronage. To our shame be it said it has
been whispered a hundred times all through the country by the
presses of both parties until it has become absolutely familiar to
American ears that the patronage of the Federal Government has
been used to buy votes and control elections to keep one party in
power. It is a question that confronts every honest statesman
whether something shall not be done to lessen that patronage. I
respond to the sentiment of the President in his inaugural when I say
there ought to be a rule in even the civil service by which this
patronage shall be placed where it cannot be used for such purposes.
If it is not done, I do not know what humiliations are in store for us
all.
But, Mr. President, here are facts that no man can escape.
Gentlemen of the republican party of this Senate, you cannot
organize the Senate unless you can get the vote of some man who
was elected as a democrat. You cannot escape that. Have you gotten
it? If so, how? If you have, nobody knows it but yourselves. How?
There is no effect without a cause; there is no change without a
purpose; there is no bargain without a consideration. What is the
cause? If there has been a change, why a change? How does it
happen that you know the change and we do not? What induced the
change? I deny that there has been a change. I maintain that all the
distinguished gentlemen who make up the thirty-eight democrats on
this side of the Chamber are firm, firm to the principles that sent
them here, firm to the professions that sent them here, and firm to
the constituencies that sent them here. They were elected as
democrats. Now on the question of organization, which is nothing in
the world but a pure political question and a party question at that,
they will act with the democratic party, and you, gentlemen, will be
deceived if you calculate otherwise. Therefore, there is no necessity
for you to enter into all this filibustering and producing this delay for
the purpose of getting the organization.
Mr. President, as I said before, the Senate should be a place where
there should be no masquerading; men should deal frankly with each
other. If I were to charge any gentleman on the republican side of the
Chamber who was elected as a republican, who professed to be a
republican when he was elected, with having made arrangements
with the democrats to vote with them, I should insult him and he
would resent it as an insult, and gentlemen excuse me for repelling
the charge which if made against you, you would repel as an insult. I
repel as an insult the charge made against any democrat that he
would be false to his colors and is intending to vote with you on the
organization.
Mr. Harris. Mr. President, I rise only to say that I regret that the
honorable Senator from Georgia should have deemed it proper to
dignify the miserable newspaper twaddle in respect to my political
position——
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I will say to my friend I did not intend——
Mr. Harris. I am quite sure the Senator did not intend anything
unkind to me; yet, by mentioning the matter here, he gives a dignity
to it that it never could have had otherwise, and one that it is not
worthy of, especially in view of the fact, as I very well know, that
there is not a democrat or a republican in America, who knows me,
who has ever doubted, or doubts to-day, what my political position
is. It is unworthy of further notice, and I will notice it no more.
Mr. Mahone. Mr. President, I do not propose to detain you and
the Senate more than a few minutes. The distinguished Senator from
Georgia has manifestly engaged in an effort to disclose my position
on this floor.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I do not know what your position is. How
could I disclose it?
Mr. Mahone. Sir, the Senator might be a little more direct as he
might well have been in the course of his remarks in asking my
position; and that I will give him.
Now, Mr. President, the Senator has assumed not only to be the
custodian here of the democratic party of this nation, but he has
dared to assert his right to speak for a constituency that I have the
privilege, the proud and honorable privilege on this floor, of
representing [applause in the galleries] without his assent, without
the assent of such democracy as that he speaks for. [Applause in the
galleries.] I owe them, sir, I owe you [addressing Mr. Hill] and those
for whom you undertake to speak nothing in this Chamber.
[Applause in the galleries.] I came here, sir, as a Virginian to
represent my people, not to represent that democracy for which you
stand. [Applause in the galleries.] I come with as proud a claim to
represent that people as you to represent the people of Georgia, won
on fields where I have vied with Georgians whom I commanded and
others in the cause of my people and of their section in the late
unhappy contest; but thank God for the peace and the good of the
country that contest is over, and as one of those who engaged in it,
and who has neither here nor elsewhere any apology to make for the
part taken, I am here by my humble efforts to bring peace to this
whole country, peace and good will between the sections, not here as
a partisan, not here to represent that Bourbonism which has done so
much injury to my section of the country. [Applause in the galleries.]
Now, sir, the gentleman undertakes to say what constitutes a
democrat. A democrat! I hold, sir, that to-day I am a better democrat
than he, infinitely better—he who stands nominally committed to a
full vote, a free ballot, and an honest count. I should like to know
how he stands for these things where tissue ballots are fashionable.
[Laughter, and applause in the galleries.]
Now, sir, I serve notice on you that I intend to be here the
custodian of my own democracy. I do not intend to be run by your
caucus. I am in every sense a free man here. I trust I am able to
protect my own rights and to defend those of the people whom I
represent, and certainly to take care of my own. I do not intend that
any Senator on this floor shall undertake to criticise my conduct by
innuendoes, a method not becoming this body or a straightforward
legitimate line of pursuit in argument.
I wish the Senator from Georgia to understand just here that we
may get along in the future harmoniously, that the way to deal with
me is to deal directly. We want no bills of discovery. Now, sir, you
will find out how I am going to vote in a little while. [Applause.]
Mr. Davis, of West Virginia. Mr. President, during this temporary
suspension——
Mr. Mahone. I have not yielded the floor. I am waiting for a little
order.
Mr. Davis, of West Virginia. I wish to call the attention of the Chair
to the disorder in the Senate both when my friend from Georgia was
speaking and now. I believe it has been some time since we have had
as much disorder as we have had to-day in the galleries. I hope the
Chair will enforce order.
 Mr. Teller. I should like to say that much of the disorder
originated in the first place from the cheering on the democratic side
of the Chamber.
The Vice-President. The Chair announces that order must be
maintained in the galleries; otherwise the Sergeant-at-Arms will be
directed to clear the galleries.
Mr. Mahone. I promised not to detain the Senate, and I regret that
so early after my appearance here I should find it necessary to
intrude any remarks whatsoever upon the attention of this body. I
would prefer to be a little modest; I would prefer to listen and to
learn; but I cannot feel content after what has passed in this
presence, when the gentleman by all manner of methods, all manner
of insinuations, direct and indirect, has sought to do that which
would have been better done and more bravely pursued if he had
gone directly to the question itself. He has sought to discover where
the democrat was who should here choose to exercise his right to cast
his vote as he pleased, who should here exercise the liberty of
manhood to differ with his caucus. Why, sir, the gentleman seems to
have forgotten that I refused positively to attend his little lovefeast;
not only that, I refused to take part in a caucus which represents a
party that has not only waged war upon me but upon those whom I
represent on this floor. They have not only intruded within the
boundaries of my own State, without provocation, to teach honesty
and true democracy, but they would now pursue my people further
by intruding their unsolicited advice and admonition to their
representative in this Chamber. Yes, sir, you have been notified, duly
notified that I would take no part or lot in any political machinery.
Further than that, you have been notified that I was supremely
indifferent to what you did; that I had no wish to prefer, and was
indifferent to your performances; that I should stand on this floor
representing in part the people of the State of Virginia, for whom I
have the right to speak (and not the Senator from Georgia) even of
their democracy. The gentleman may not be advised that the
Legislature which elected me did not require that I should state
either that I was a democrat or anything else. I suppose he could not
get here from Georgia unless he was to say that he was a democrat,
anyhow. [Laughter.] I come here without being required to state to
my people what I am. They were willing to trust me, sir, and I was
elected by the people, and not by a legislature, for it was an issue in
the canvass. There was no man elected by the party with which I am
identified that did not go to the Legislature instructed by the
sovereigns to vote for me for the position I occupy on this floor. It
required no oath of allegiance blindly given to stand by your
democracy, such as is, [laughter,] that makes a platform and
practices another thing. That is the democracy they have in some of
the Southern States.
Now, I hope the gentleman will be relieved. He has been
chassezing all around this Chamber to see if he could not find a
partner somewhere; he has been looking around in every direction;
occasionally he would refer to some other Senator to know exactly
where the Senator was who stood here as a democrat that had the
manhood and the boldness to assert his opinions in this Chamber
free from the dictation of a mere caucus. Now, I want the gentleman
to know henceforth and forever here is a man, sir, that dares stand
up [applause] and speak for himself without regard to caucus in all
matters. [Applause, long continued, in the galleries and on the floor.]
Mr. President, pardon me; I have done.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Mr. President—
The Vice-President. The Senate will be in order. Gentlemen on
the floor not members of the Senate will take seats.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Mr. President, I hope nobody imagines that I
rise to make any particular reply to the remarkable exhibition we
have just seen. I rise to say a few things in justification of myself. I
certainly did not say one word to justify the gentleman in the
statement that I made an assault upon him, unless he was the one
man who had been elected as a democrat and was not going to vote
with his party. I never saw that gentleman before the other day. I
have not the slightest unkind feeling for him. I never alluded to him
by name; I never alluded to his State; and I cannot understand how
the gentleman says that I alluded to him except upon the rule laid
down by the distinguished Senator from New York, that a guilty
conscience needs no accuser. [Applause and hisses in the galleries.] I
did not mention the Senator. It had been stated here by the Senator
from New York over and over that the other side would have a
majority when that side was full. I showed it was impossible that they
should have a majority unless they could get one democratic vote,
with the vote of the Vice-President. I did not know who it was; I
asked who it was; I begged to know who it was; and to my utter
astonishment the gentleman from Virginia comes out and says he is
the man.
The Senator from Virginia makes a very strange announcement.
He charged me not only with attacking him, but with attacking the
people of Virginia? Did I say a word of the people of Virginia? I said
that the people of no portion of this country would tolerate treachery.
Was that attacking the people of Virginia? I said that thirty-eight
men had been elected to this body as democrats. Does the Senator
deny that? Does he say he was elected here not as a democrat? He
says he was not required to declare that he was a democrat, and in
the next breath he says he is a truer, better democrat than I am. Then
I commend him to you. Take good care of him, my friends. Nurse
him well. How do you like to have a worse democrat than I am?
Mr. Conkling and others. A better democrat.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Oh, a better! Then my friend from New York
is a better democrat than I am. You have all turned democrats; and
we have in the United States Senate such an exhibition as that of a
gentleman showing his democracy by going over to the Republicans!
Sir, I will not defend Virginia. She needs no defense. Virginia has
given this country and the world and humanity some of the brightest
names of history. She holds in her bosom to-day the ashes of some of
the noblest and greatest men that ever illustrated the glories of any
country. I say to the Senator from Virginia that neither Jefferson, nor
Madison, nor Henry, nor Washington, nor Leigh, nor Tucker, nor
any of the long list of great men that Virginia has produced ever
accepted a commission to represent one party and came here and
represented another. [Applause on the floor and in the galleries.]
Mr. Cockrell. I trust that those at least who are enjoying the
privilege of the floor of the Senate Chamber will be prohibited from
cheering.
The Vice-President. The Chair will state that the violation of the
rules does not appear to be in the galleries, but by persons who have
been admitted to the privilege of the floor. The Chair regrets to clear
the floor, but if the manifestation is continued he will be obliged to
do so. It is a violation of the rules of the Senate.
 Mr. Mahone rose.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Does the Senator from Virginia wish to
interrupt me?
Mr. Mahone. I do wish to interrupt you.
The Vice-President. Does the Senator from Georgia yield?
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Certainly.
Mr. Mahone. I understand you to say that I accepted a
commission from one party and came here to represent another. Do I
understand you correctly?
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I understood that you were elected as a
democrat.
Mr. Mahone. Never mind; answer the question.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Yes, I say you accepted a commission, having
been elected as a democrat. That is my information.
Mr. Mahone. I ask you the question: Did you say that I had
accepted a commission from one party and came here to represent
another? That is the question.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Oh, I said that will be the case if you vote
with the republicans. You have not done it yet, and I say you will not
do it.
Mr. Mahone. If not out of order in this place, I say to the
gentleman that if he undertakes to make that statement it is
unwarranted and untrue.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I should like to ask the gentleman a
question: Was he not acting with the democratic party, and was he
not elected as a democrat to this body? Answer that question.
Mr. Mahone. Quickly, sir. I was elected as a readjuster. Do you
know what they are? [Laughter and applause.]
The Vice-President rapped with his gavel.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I understand there are in Virginia what are
called readjuster democrats and debt-paying democrats, or
something of that kind, but as I understand they are all democrats.
We have nothing to do with that issue. We are not to settle the debt
of Virginia in the Senate Chamber; but I ask the Senator again, was
he not elected to this body as a member of the national democratic
party?
Mr. Mahone. I will answer you, sir. No. You have got the answer
now.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Then I conceive that the gentleman spoke
truly when he said that I do not know what he is. What is he?
Everybody has understood that he voted with the democrats. Did he
not support Hancock for the Presidency? Did not the Senator
support Hancock for the Presidency, I ask him? [A pause] Dumb!
Did he not act with the democratic party in the national election, and
was not the Senator from Virginia himself a democrat? That is the
question. Why attempt to evade? Gentlemen, I commend him to you.
Is there a man on that side of the Chamber who doubts that the
Senator was sent to this body as a democrat? Is there a man in this
whole body who doubts it? Is there a man in Virginia who doubts it?
The gentleman will not deny it. Up to this very hour it was not known
on this side of the Chamber or in the country how he would vote in
this case, or whether he was still a democrat or not. I maintain that
he is. The Senator from New York seemed to have information that
somebody who was elected as a democrat was not, and I went to
work to find out who it was. It seems I have uncovered him. For
months the papers of the country have been discussing and debating
how the Senator would vote. Nobody could know, nobody could tell,
nobody could guess. I have been a truer friend to the Senator than he
has been to himself. I have maintained always that when it came to
the test the Senator would be true to his commission; that the
Senator would be true to the democratic professions he made when
he was elected. He will not rise in this presence and say he could
have been elected to the Senate as a republican. He will not rise in
the Senate and say he could have been elected to the Senate if he had
given notice that on the organization of this body he would vote with
the republicans. He will not say it.
The gentleman makes some remarks about the caucus. I have no
objection to a gentleman remaining out of a caucus. That is not the
question. I have no objection to a gentleman being independent.
That is not the question. I have no objection to a gentleman being a
readjuster in local politics. That is not the question. I have no
objection to a man dodging from one side to another on such a
question. With that I have nothing to do. That is a matter of taste
with him; but I do object to any man coming into this high council,
sent here by one sentiment, commissioned by one party, professing
to be a democrat, and after he gets here acting with the other party. If
the gentleman wants to be what he so proudly said, a man, when he
changes opinions, as he had a right to do, when he changes party
affiliations as he had a right to do, he should have gone to the people
of Virginia and said, “You believed me to be a democrat when you
gave me this commission; while I differed with many of you on the
local question of the debt, I was with you cordially in national
politics; I belonged to the national democratic party; but I feel that it
is my duty now to co-operate with the republican party, and I return
you the commission which you gave to me.” If the gentleman had
done that and then gone before the people of Virginia and asked
them to renew his commission upon his change of opinion, he would
have been entitled to the eulogy of manhood he pronounced upon
himself here in such theatrical style. I like manhood.
I say once more, it is very far from me to desire to do the Senator
injury. I have nothing but the kindest feelings for him. He is very
much mistaken if he supposes I had any personal enmity against
him. I have not the slightest. As I said before, I never spoke to the
gentleman in my life until I met him a few days ago; but I have done
what the newspapers could not do, both sides having been engaged
in the effort for months; I have done what both parties could not do,
what the whole country could not do—I have brought out the Senator
from Virginia.
But now, in the kindest spirit, knowing the country from which the
honorable Senator comes, identified as I am with its fame and its
character, loving as I do every line in its history, revering as I do its
long list of great names, I perform the friendly office unasked of
making a last appeal to the honorable Senator, whatever other fates
befall him, to be true to the trust which the proud people of Virginia
gave him, and whoever else may be disappointed, whoever else may
be deceived, whoever else may be offended at the organization of the
Senate, I appeal to the gentleman to be true to the people, to the
sentiment, to the party which he knows commissioned him to a seat
in this body.
 Mr. Logan. Mr. President, I have but a word to say. I have listened
to a very extraordinary speech. The Senate of the United States is a
body where each Senator has a right to have a free voice. I have never
known before a Senator, especially a new Senator, to be arraigned in
the manner in which the Senator from Virginia has been, and his
conduct criticised before he had performed any official act, save one,
so far as voting is concerned. He needs no defense at my hands; he is
able to take care of himself; but I tell the Senator from Georgia when
he says to this country that no man has a right to come here unless
he fulfills that office which was dictated to him by a party, he says
that which does not belong to American independence. Sir, it takes
more nerve, more manhood, to strike the party shackles from your
limbs and give free thought its scope than any other act that man can
perform. The Senator from Georgia himself, in times gone by, has
changed his opinions. If the records of this country are true (and he
knows whether they are or not) he, when elected to a convention as a
Union man, voted for secession. [Applause in the galleries.]
The Vice-President rapped with his gavel.
Mr. Hoar. If my friend will pardon me a moment, I desire to call
the attention of the Chair to the fact that there has been more
disorder in this Chamber during this brief session of the Senate than
in all the aggregate of many years before. I take occasion when a
gentleman with whose opinions I perfectly agree myself in speaking
to say that I shall move the Chair to clear any portion of the gallery
from which expressions of applause or dissent shall come if they
occur again.
Mr. Logan. What I have said in reference to this record I do not
say by way of casting at the Senator, but merely to call attention to
the fact that men are not always criticised so severely for changing
their opinions. The Senator from Georgia spoke well of my colleague.
Well he may. He is an honorable man and a man deserving well of all
the people of this country. He was elected not as a democrat but by
democratic votes. He votes with you. He never was a democrat in his
life; he is not to-day. You applaud him and why? Because he votes
with you. You want his vote; that is all. You criticise another man
who was elected by republican votes and democratic votes,
readjusters as they are called, and say that he has no right to his
opinions in this Chamber. The criticism is not well. Do you say that a
man shall not change his political opinions?
The Senator from Georgia in days gone by, in my boyhood days, I
heard of, not as a democrat. To-day he sits here as a democrat. No
one wishes to criticise him because he has changed his political
opinions. He had a right to do so. I was a democrat once, too, and I
had a right to change my opinions and I did change them. The man
who will not change his opinions when he is honestly convinced that
he was in error is a man who is not entitled to the respect of men. I
say this to the Senator from Georgia. The Senator says to us, “take
him,” referring to the Senator from Virginia. Yes, sir, we will take
him if he will come with us, and we will take every other honest man
who will come. We will take every honest man in the South who
wants to come and join the republican party, and give him the right
hand of fellowship, be he black or white. Will you do as much?
Mr. Hill of Georgia. We have got them already.
Mr. Logan. Yes, and if a man happens to differ with you the
tyranny of political opinion in your section of country is such that
you undertake to lash him upon the world and try to expose him to
the gaze of the public as a man unfaithful to his trust. We have no
such tyranny of opinion in the country where I live; and it will be
better for your section when such notions are driven to the shades
and retired from the action of your people.
I do not know that the gentleman from Virginia intends to vote as
a republican. I have never heard him say so. I know only what he has
said here to-day; but I respect him for stating to the Senate and the
country that he is tired of the Bourbon democracy; and if more men
were tired of it the country would be better off. The people are
getting tired of it even down in your country, every where. The
sooner we have a division down there the better it will be for both
sides, for the people of the whole country.
I did not rise to make any defense of the Senator from Virginia, for
he is able, as I said, to defend himself, but merely to say to the
Senator from Georgia that the criticism made upon that Senator
without any just cause is something I never witnessed before in this
Chamber or in any other deliberative body, and in my judgment it
was not justified in any way whatever.
 Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I desire to say once more, what everybody in
the audience knows is true, that I did not arraign the Senator from
Virginia. In the first speech I never alluded to Virginia or to the
Senator from Virginia.
Mr. Logan. Every one in the Chamber knew to whom the Senator
alluded.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I alluded to somebody who was elected as a
democrat, and who was going to vote as a republican.
Mr. Teller. He was not elected as a democrat.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Then I did not allude to the Senator from
Virginia.
Mr. Teller. The Senator said that thirty-eight members of the
Senate were elected as democrats.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Certainly they were.
Mr. Teller. That is a mistake.
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Certainly they were, and the record shows it.
Mr. Conkling. May I ask the Senator a question?
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. Let me go on and then you can follow me. I
again say it is strange that the Senator from Virginia should say I
arraigned him, and his valiant defender, the Senator from Illinois,
comes to defend him from an arraignment that was never made.
Mr. Logan. Did not the Senator from Georgia ask the Senator from
Virginia in his seat if he was not elected as a Democrat? Did not the
Senator charge that a man was acting treacherously to his
constituents? Did the Senator not make the most severe arraignment
of him that he could possibly make?
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. If the Senator will allow me, I did that only
after the Senator from Virginia had arraigned himself. The Senator
from Virginia insisted that I alluded to him when I had not called his
name, and I had not alluded to his State and when I had arraigned
nobody.
Mr. Logan. Will the Senator allow me to ask him this question:
Did he not have in his mind distinctly the Senator from Virginia
when he made his insinuations?
Mr. Hill, of Georgia. I will answer the gentleman’s question fairly.
I did believe that the gentlemen on the other side who were counting