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The Axis Grand Strategy: Blueprints for the Total War
The Axis Grand Strategy: Blueprints for the Total War
The Axis Grand Strategy: Blueprints for the Total War
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The Axis Grand Strategy: Blueprints for the Total War

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This startling book reveals the military and political plans of the Axis in the very words of its own generals and admirals.
The advent of Adolf Hitler has Germany’s supreme leader marked the inauguration of the deliberate plans for world domination by the Third Reich. These plans were not secret; other nations simply refused to take them seriously. They followed the tradition of one hundred years of German military thinking form Clausewitz to Ludendorff. They were implicit in Mein Kampf. During the years from 1933 to 1939 they were worked out in detail by those who today are in charge of the Nazi armies. These writing, in fact, contain the Blueprints for the Total War. Now, for the first time, they have been assembled, translated and made available to all who want to understand the nature of the enemy with whom they are engaged in a life and death struggle. The Axis Grand Strategy describes the plan for modern war from the earliest political and psychological preparation to the ultimate campaign of military terrorism and destruction. The book discusses the building of the modern army—an army which will make full use of all modern technical advance and which will develop the strategy of the irresistible, lightning onslaught. The duration of the armed attack, the piercing of modern fortifications, the co-ordination of aircraft and armed forces, the grand strategy of the large-scale offensive—these and many other military subjects are fully discussed here. These discussions provide the chapter-and-verse authority for the actual campaigns as waged in Poland, Belgium, France, Africa, and Russia.
The grand strategy, however is not confined merely to military ends. For total war in the Nazis’ scheme of thinking and acting means utilization o political and economic weapons, fifth column penetration and geopolitical strategy that reached far beyond Europe to the lands boarding the great oceans. One writer, in fact, in discussing the Far Eastern strategy actually predicts the attack on Pearl Harbor.
The Axis Grand Strategy is a book for all who as civilians or soldiers are determined to play an intelligent part in the total war which is now ours.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 28, 2018
ISBN9780811767392
The Axis Grand Strategy: Blueprints for the Total War

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    The Axis Grand Strategy - Ladislas Farago

    THE AXIS GRAND STRATEGY

    The Axis Grand Strategy

    Blueprints for the Total War

    Compiled and Edited by

    LADISLAS FARAGO

    with the co-operation of

    Major William Moseley Brown

    Major George Fielding Eliot

    Foster Kennedy, MD

    Stefan T. Possony

    Floyd L. Ruch

    Robert Strausz-Hupé

    Kurt Weil

    Kimball Young

    for the Committee for National Morale

    STACKPOLE

    BOOKS

    Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

    Published by Stackpole Books

    An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc.

    4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706

    www.rowman.com

    Unit A, Whitacre Mews, 26-34 Stannary Street, London SE11 4AB

    Distributed by NATIONAL BOOK NETWORK

    Copyright © 1942 by the Committee for National Morale

    First published 1942 by Farrar and Rinehart

    First Stackpole Books paperback edition 2017

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review.

    ISBN 978-0-8117-3761-6 (paper : alk. paper)

    ISBN 978-0-8117-6739-2 (electronic)

    The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

    Printed in the United States of America

    Powerful and resourceful gangsters

    have banded together to make war

    upon the whole human race

    Franklin Delano Roosevelt

    December 9, 1941

    PUBLISHER’S FOREWORD

    This book attempts to give comprehensive answers by competent German spokesmen to the multitude of questions raised by what is predominantly a German war. Italy, Japan, Rumania, and the other more or less active Axis partners may have deluded themselves into believing the present conflict was their war. But the inception, the motivation, and the anticipated culmination are all German. Should the United Nations be defeated, the Nazis would carve out their own world, and their willing and unwilling allies would find themselves just where the Germans put them.

    But this book seeks to do more than merely present the Nazi theories and dreams of a New Order. If the reader is given to understand that Total War is more than a military episode the Editor will feel his efforts have not been fruitless. Total War involves the whole world and every man and woman in it. It comprehends the social, political, economic, spiritual, and psychological organization of civilization. Shooting is but an incident, an incident that may even be dispensed with if other means of conquest are successful.

    The material was compiled from thousands of books, articles, and speeches prepared by influential leaders on Hitler’s military, economic, and ideological staff, those basic elements which present a complete picture of the Nazi New Order. These men and their words speak for themselves. Independent comment has been kept to a minimum, and has been interpolated only when abstruse German moralizing has called for clarification or when recent events have graphically demonstrated Total War in action.

    It is the conviction of the Editor, born from experience, that the men who are quoted can be believed implicitly. The Germans indulge themselves in open discussion of what other peoples consider deep military and diplomatic secrets. This frankness has worked to their advantage, because the rest of the world has hesitated to believe what the Nazis did not hesitate to reveal.

    This book is a result of the studies and investigation of the Committee for National Morale, a voluntary, nonprofit organization that has concerned itself since July, 1940, with the complex and many-sided factors that enter into the question of morale. It has brought to these studies a distinguished personnel of some 125 outstanding specialists in the different relevant fields: psychology, psychiatry, medicine, public affairs, public opinion, industrial relations, social science, military affairs, and the arts. It undertakes:

    1.Fact-finding and research on the major problems of morale with publication of results for both specialists and the general public.

    2.The formulation of controlling principles of morale in every kind of situation.

    3.The planning and promotion of practical measures to protect and enhance the country’s morale in all groups and in every typical activity.

    The Committee for National Morale sprang from an informal discussion following the fall of France at which the following participated: Arthur Upham Pope, Edmond Taylor, Major George Fielding Eliot, Raymond Gram Swing, Elmer Davis and Dr. Foster Kennedy. These men, all friends of France and of Democracy, were agreed that morale factors had contributed greatly to the collapse of France and they were determined to do what they could to prevent a similar fate befalling this country. Mr. Pope was elected Chairman and continued to serve in that capacity when the Committee for National Morale began its active work.

    Mr. Ladislas Farago, without whose exceptional and thorough knowledge of the Nazis and their program this book would not have been possible, joined the Committee for National Morale at its second meeting. As a journalist representing American, British, and other newspapers in Germany throughout most of the period from the Nazi rise to power until shortly before the outbreak of war, he had an unusual opportunity to meet National Socialist leaders frequently and to observe their mental operations.

    Mr. Farago was responsible for selecting the material in The Axis Grand Strategy from among the mass of German originals scattered in scores of books and periodicals. He was ably assisted by H. B. Wallitz, a military writer and political scientist, in the over-all editing of the book and in the preparation of introductions and running commentaries to various chapters. Dr. R. S. Nathan, aside from translating some of the most important German essays, helped Mr. Strausz-Hupé prepare the chapter on geopolitics. Dr. H. M. Paechter compiled, edited, and annotated the chapters on psychological and economic warfare, and part of the chapter on Hitler’s New Order.

    Aaron Bell, Tom Davin, Betty Stones-Kelen and Barbara Tolnay rewrote and edited most of the preliminary translations prepared by Bertha Hellmann, Selmar Schocken and Eric Seligo, while Dr. N. Aranyosi, George May and Carry Hepner assisted the Editor in research and condensation. Indeed, The Axis Grand Strategy is a co-operative effort executed with admirable zeal and self-sacrifice.

    Special thanks are due to Victor H. Lawn, executive secretary of the Committee for National Morale, who acted as the technical director of the project and assisted in editing and preparing chapters for the press.

    The Publishers and the Editor wish to express their gratitude to the distinguished Board of Editorial Advisers and to Major Joseph I. Green, editor of The Infantry Journal, for encouragement and invaluable suggestions, and to Major General Amos A. Fries, former chief of the Chemical Warfare Service, United States Army, for his revision of the chapter on chemical warfare.

    The Publishers believe that with this book they are making a valuable contribution to a better understanding of the German war effort, in the spirit of Spinoza, who said that we must not hate or love our enemies but understand them.

    February 2, 1942

    New York City

    CONTENTS

    PART ONE: THE PATTERN OF MODERN WAR

    Chapter I. National Policy and the Conduct of War

    Chapter II. The Nation in Arms

    Chapter III. Preparations for War

    PART TWO: THE ART OF WAR

    Chapter IV. Strategy and Tactics

    Chapter V. The Blitzkrieg

    Chapter VI. Operations

    Chapter VII. The Art of Generalship

    PART THREE: THE WAR MACHINE

    Chapter VIII. Organization of the War Machine

    Chapter IX. The Higher Staffs

    Chapter X. The Army

    Chapter XI. The Air Force

    Chapter XII. The Navy

    Chapter XIII. The Theater of War and Its Forces

    PART FOUR: THE SINEWS OF TOTAL WAR

    Chapter XIV. Psychological Warfare

    Chapter  XV.  Economic Warfare and War Economy

    PART FIVE: HITLER’S GRAND STRATEGY

    Chapter XVI. Geopolitics—a Weapon of War

    Chapter XVII. The New Order

    BIBLIOGRAPHY

    BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES ON THE GERMAN AUTHORS

    PART ONE

    THE PATTERN OF MODERN WAR

    I. NATIONAL POLICY AND THE CONDUCT OF WAR

    To the hypocritical French slogan of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity we oppose our Prussian realities of Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery. (Hans von Buelow, orchestra conductor and friend of Richard Wagner, in a speech celebrating the performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.)

    Total warfare is the answer offered by military science of all countries for the pressing problems of a changing society.

    The bare doctrine of total war is as old as humanity itself. The first all-out conflicts between prehistoric families, the feuds of primitive tribes, and the bickerings of medieval clans contained all the embryonic characteristics of total war. Sparta was built and maintained on the same principle, and seventeenth century Sweden mobilized industry and agriculture fur what today would be called a more efficient prosecution of the war.

    The modern phrases guerre totale and mobilisation absolue were coined in democratic France. Fascist Italy provided their most eloquent hortator in the person of Signor Mussolini. The Teutonic version of totaler Krieg was developed by a reactionary German officer living on a pittance from the Weimar Republic—General Ludendorff—and found its dexterous practitioners in men whom President Roosevelt called skilled and resourceful gangsters banded together around Hitler.

    A closer study of the German doctrine shows, however, that the Nazis have embedded their own world outlook in what apparently is merely the general idea of total war. In National Socialist terminology, total war means much more than just the mobilization and utilization of all the human and material resources of a nation. It is a doctrine which, by the very nature of its principles and methods, is the exact opposite of what we understand to be the principles and methods of democracy. In other words, the Nazi interpretation of total war is the antithesis of our interpretation of democracy.

    In their familiar attempt to provide traditional and scientific foundations for their pseudo-revolutionary and abstract tenets, Nazis assert that their doctrine of the total war stems from the theory of a people’s war, which General Karl von Clausewitz called the absolute war.

    Clausewitz (1780-1831) belonged to that small circle of Prussian military reformers who, with Scharnhorst, tried to build up a national army in Prussia after the defeat by Napoleon. Their reforms were diluted by the reactionary king Friedrich Wilhelm III and his even more reactionary Junkers around Hardenberg.

    Clausewitz learned his lesson from Carnot, organizer of France’s popular armies, and from the strategists and tacticians of the American Revolution, whose organization and spirit were akin to the new French people’s army. It was the theory of human mass, with the people waging war for their very existence as well as for the most exalted political aim —their freedom. Clausewitz, never recognized in his lifetime but relegated to the secondary position of an administrative director of the Prussian Military Academy, died while his ideas were still fermenting.

    But in sealed packets buried in his desk, he left behind papers which were later published under the title On War. His theories fertilized the Prussian military mind that came into existence after the triumphs of the wars of 1864-1871. Clausewitz, himself, left behind a warning note: Should the work be interrupted by my death, then what is found can only be called a mass of formless conceptions—open to endless misconceptions.

    Chaotic though it was in form and purpose, On War was a welcome well at which a new generation of Prussian militarists could quench their thirst. An even newer generation of Nazi militarists found in those papers all the elements they needed to provide the framework for a military philosophy with which to maintain their state philosophy.

    What, then, is Clausewitz’s theory of war? The following condensed abstract contains his two basic ideas. One is that war is the instrument of politics. The other is that the nature of war is universal.

    There are many reasons for the misunderstandings found in the interpretation by subsequent commentators. Some are due to the incomplete state of the original manuscript. Others were mere falsifications. The most important misapprehension, however, was caused by a lack of historical insight into the conditions of his time and by a mechanical treatment of the two basic ideas, neither of which is independent, but each of which complements the other.

    Clausewitz’s book was not written for the Prussians, who later expropriated its text and perverted its contents. It was written for people fighting against any policy of conquest, oppression, and world domination. Napoleon, in his day, placed Germany in a position similar to that in which Hitler’s policy of world domination has placed our world of today. Were Clausewitz living now, he probably would be a refugee in England or in America, writing his book on the war against Hitler.

    When he speaks of the masses, Clausewitz means a people who revolt against the few, and who use all means to accomplish their ultimate aim, political freedom. We should, therefore, confine our criticism of Clausewitz to the distortions made by the Prussian militarists and the Nazis. For ourselves, we should heed his advice on the best means of mobilizing a nation and recruiting a people’s army to defeat aggression.

    ON WAR

    By General Karl von Clausewitz ⁸⁴ *

    [1831]

    The various definitions of war, as formulated by statesmen, do not interest us. We shall keep to the element of the thing itself. War is nothing more than a duel on an extensive scale. Each contestant strives, by physical force, to compel the other to submit to his will; each endeavors 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 subordinate himself to our will.

    Of course, violence arms itself with the inventions of art and science in order to contend against violence. Self-imposed restrictions, almost imperceptible and scarcely 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 fully to attain this object, the enemy must be disarmed. Disarmament becomes in theory the immediate object of hostilities, supplanting the final object, which is pushed into the background and can be eliminated from our calculations.

    Many philanthropists imagine there is a skillful method of disarming and overcoming an enemy without causing great bloodshed, and that this is the proper tendency of the art of war. However plausible this may appear, it is still an error that must be eliminated; for in so dangerous a thing as war, errors proceeding from a spirit of benevolence are the worst.

    As the use of utmost physical power by no means excludes the cooperation of the intelligence, it follows that he who uses force unsparingly, without reference to the bloodshed involved, must obtain superiority over an adversary who applies it with less vigor. The former then dictates the law to the latter, and both proceed to extremities to which the only limitations are those imposed by the counteracting force on each side.

    Dispassionate consideration must be given to war. It is to no purpose —it is even against one’s interest—to turn away from the consideration of the real nature of the affair, just because the horror of its elements excites repugnance.

    WAR IS NEVER MODERATE

    Any difference between civilized and savage warfare arises from the social condition, both of the states themselves and of their relationship to each other. Out of this, war arises, is subjected to restrictions, is controlled and modified. But these things do not belong to war itself; they are only given conditions. To introduce such a principle of moderation into the philosophy of war would be absurd.

    Various historians have pointed out that two motives lead men to war: instinctive hostility and hostile intention. In our definition of war, we have chosen the latter element as its characteristic, because it is the most general. It is impossible to conceive a passion of hatred of the widest description, bordering on mere instinct, without combining with it the idea of hostile intention. On the other hand, hostile intentions may exist without being accompanied by any or, at all events, by an extreme hostility of feeling.

    Among savages views emanating from emotions, among civilized nations those emanating from the understanding, predominate. But this difference, arising from attendant circumstances, existing institutions, etc., is not necessarily found in all cases, although it does prevail in the majority. In short, even the most civilized nations may burn with a passionate hatred of each other.

    This shows the fallacy of considering war in a civilized nation as an intelligent act of the government, and imagining it to be free of all feelings of passion.

    Now, the theory of war was beginning to drift in this direction until the facts of the Napoleonic Wars brought it back to reality. If war is an act of force, it necessarily belongs also to the emotions. Even if it does not originate in the emotions, it reacts more or less upon them. The extent of this reaction depends not on the degree of civilization, but on the importance and duration of the interests involved.

    Therefore, if we find that civilized nations do not put their prisoners to death or do not devastate towns and countries, this is simply because their intelligence exercises greater influence on their mode of warfare and has taught them more effectual means of applying force than by such rude acts of hatred. The invention of gunpowder and the continuous improvement in the construction of firearms furnish sufficient proof that the tendency to destroy the adversary, which lies at the bottom of the concept of war, has been neither changed nor modified through the progress of civilization.

    We therefore repeat our proposition: War is an act of violence pushed to its utmost bounds. As one opponent decidedly 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: The is to disarm the enemy.

    We have already said that the aim of all actions in war is to disarm the enemy, and we shall now show that this is, at least theoretically, indispensable.

    If our opponent is to be made to comply with our will, we must place him in a situation more oppressive to him than the sacrifice we demand. 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 hope of a change for the better. Every change in this position 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, then, the enemy is to be reduced to submission by an act of war, he must either be positively disarmed or be placed in a position that threatens disarmament.

    From this it follows that the disarming or overthrowing of the enemy, whichever we call it, must always be the aim of warfare. War is always the shock of two hostile bodies in collision, not the action of a living power upon an inanimate mass. An absolute state of equilibrium would not be active 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 no longer be my own master; he will dictate the law to me as I did to him.

    This is the second reciprocal action: and it leads to a second extreme.

    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: the sum of available means and strength of will. The sum of the available means may be approximated as it depends (although not entirely) upon numbers. But the strength of volition is more difficult to determine, and can be estimated only by the strength of motives.

    Granted that in a war we have obtained an approximation to the strength of the enemy. We can then review our own means and either increase them so as to obtain a preponderance or, in case we have not the resources to effect this, increase them as far as possible. But the adversary does the same. Therefore, there is a new stalemate which, in pure conception, must create a fresh effort toward an extreme.

    This is the third reciprocal action.

    Lastly, the final decision of a whole war need not be regarded as absolute. The conquered state often sees in it only a passing evil, which may be repaired in the course of time by means of political combinations. How much this may modify the degree of tension and the vigor of the efforts is self-evident.

    ENDS AND MEANS IN WAR

    Having ascertained the complicated and variable nature of war, we shall now occupy ourselves in examining the influence which this nature exerts upon ends and means.

    If we ask, first of all, for the objective upon which the whole effort of war is to be directed, in order to attain the political end, we shall find that it is just as variable as are the political aims and the particular circumstances of the war.

    If, in the next place, we keep once more to the pure conception of war, then we must say that the political objective proper lies outside this province. For, if war is an act of violence to compel the enemy to submit to our will, then everything depends on our overthrowing him. This object, while developed from abstract conceptions, is thoroughly realistic, and should be examined in this light.

    Here we must at once draw a distinction between three all-inclusive things: military power, the country, and the will of the enemy.

    The opposing military power must be destroyed, that is, reduced so that the war cannot be prosecuted. This is what we mean by the expression destruction of the enemy’s military power. The enemy country must be conquered, for out of this country, if unconquered, a new military force may be formed.

    WAR NOT A FINAL SETTLEMENT

    The war cannot be considered over as long as the will of the enemy is not subdued. His government and his allies must be forced into signing a peace and the people must submit. Even while we are in full occupation of a country the war may break out anew, either by inner revolt or through assistance of allies. This may also take place after a peace, which merely proves that war in itself settles nothing.

    Passions abate with peace, and all those whose minds are disposed to peace (of which there are many in all nations at all times) turn from the idea of war. Whatever may take place subsequently, we must always look upon a war as ended by a peace treaty.

    As protection of the country is the primary object for which the military force exists, it is only natural that this enemy force should be destroyed and the country subdued. Generally, the destruction of the enemy’s force is done by degrees, and subjugation follows in like measure. The two usually react upon each other, because the loss of provinces occasions a diminution of military force. But this order, or result, is by no means inevitable. The enemy's army may retreat to the opposite side of the country before it is sensibly weakened, or even flee outside it. In such case, the greater part, or the whole, of the country is conquered.

    But this object of war in the abstract, this combined means of attaining the political goal—the disarming of the enemy—is rarely attained in practice and is not a necessary condition to peace. Therefore, it cannot be set up as a law. There are innumerable instances of treaties in which peace has been settled before either party could be looked upon as disarmed; indeed, even before the balance of power had undergone any sensible alteration. If we look at the proposition concretely, we must say that, in a number of cases, the idea of a complete defeat of the enemy would be a mere imaginative flight, especially when the enemy is considerably superior.

    ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN WAR

    War, as it is actually made, has a great influence upon all plans, especially strategic ones.

    All former methods were upset by Napoleon’s luck and boldness. First-rate powers were almost wiped out with a blow. By their stubborn resistance, the Spaniards showed what the general arming of a nation and insurgent measures on a grand scale can effect. By the campaign of 1812, Russia taught us, first, that an empire of great dimensions is not to be conquered (which might have been easily seen), second, that the probability of final defeat for the invader does not, in all cases, diminish in the same proportion as battles, capitals, and provinces are lost (which was formerly an incontrovertible principle with all diplomats, and therefore made them always ready to enter into some ineffectual temporary peace).

    Russia also showed that a nation is often strongest in the heart of its own country, when the enemy’s offensive power has exhausted itself, and the defensive then vigorously springs over into the offensive. In 1813, Prussia showed that sudden effort may increase an army sixfold by adding the militia, and that this militia is just as fit for service abroad as in its own country.

    All these events have shown what an enormous factor the heart and sentiments of a nation may be in the production of its political and military strength. To sum up, since governments have found all these additional aids, it is not to be expected that they will let them lie idle in future wars, whether danger threatens their own existence or restless ambition drives them on.

    A war that is waged with the whole weight of national power on each side must be organized differently in principle from those where everything is calculated according to the relationship of standing armies to each other. Standing armies once resembled fleets; the land force was like the sea force in its relation to the remainder of the state. Then the art of war on land had something of the nature of naval tactics.

    THE USE OF THE BATTLE

    Whatever form the conduct of war may take in particular cases and whatever we may have to admit as necessary in respect to it, we have only to refer to the concept of war to be convinced of the following:

    1. The destruction of the enemy’s armed force is the leading principle of war. All positive action is directed to this objective.

    2. This destruction must be effected principally by means of battle.

    3. Only great and general battles can produce great results.

    4. The results will be greatest when separate combats merge in one great battle.

    5. The general in chief commands only a great battle in person. It is in the nature of things that he should place more confidence in himself than in his subordinates.

    From these truths follows a double law, the parts of which mutually support each other: the destruction of the enemy’s military force is to be accomplished principally by great battles, the chief object in which must be destruction of the enemy’s military force.

    Annihilation may come in other ways. The battle is the bloodiest solution. True, it is not merely reciprocal slaughter, but a destroying of the enemy’s courage rather than of his soldiers. Blood is always its price, and slaughter its character as well as name. From this, the humanity in the general’s mind recoils with horror. The soul of any man would tremble at the thought of the decision to be given with one single blow. All action is compressed into one point of space and time. There is the feeling that all our forces cannot develop in this narrow space. This is just an illusion, for the same pressure aroused by having to make a momentous decision may well be felt by the general who must stake interests of such enormous weight upon one venture.

    WAR NEEDS BLOODSHED

    Statesmen and generals, therefore, have at all times endeavored to avoid a decisive battle. They have either tried to attain their aim without it, or have substituted some equivalent for decision by battle. They have sought a higher art of war. In this way a battle was looked upon almost as an evil, rendered necessary through some error. They felt that it was a morbid paroxysm, to which a prudent system of war would never lead. Only those generals were to deserve laurels who knew how to carry on war without spilling blood and the theory of war—a special concern of Brahmans—was to be directed toward this perfection.

    Contemporary history has destroyed this illusion, but no one can guarantee that it will not reappear and lead those at the head of affairs to perversities which flatter such weaknesses. Perhaps, by and by, Napoleon’s campaigns and battles will be looked upon as mere acts of barbarism and stupidity, and we shall once more return to absolute and musty institutions. If theory cautions against this, then it renders a real service to those who listen to its warning voice.

    Not only the concept of war, but experience itself, leads us to look for a great decision only in a great battle. From time immemorial, only great victories have led to great successes on the offensive side and more or less satisfactory results on the defensive side. Even Napoleon would not have seen the battle of Ulm if he had shrunk from shedding blood, since Ulm was only the product of victorious events in his preceding campaign. Not only bold, rash, and presumptuous generals have sought a decision in the great venture of a decisive battle, but cautious ones as well, and we may rest satisfied with the answer they have given to this vast question.

    Let us not bother with imaginary generals who conquer without bloodshed. If a bloody slaughter is a horrible sight, then it is a reason for respecting war, not for blunting our swords for humanitarian reasons until someone steps in with a sharp sword and lops off an arm.

    THE DECISIVENESS OF A GREAT BATTLE

    We look upon a great battle as a decision, but certainly not as the only one to win a war or a campaign. Instances of great battles deciding a whole campaign have been frequent only in modern times. Those which have decided a whole war are rare exceptions.

    A decision brought about by a great battle depends, naturally, not on the battle itself and the mass of combatants engaged in it, but on a number of other relations between the opposing military forces and between the states to which these forces belong. At the same time that the principal mass of the available force is brought to the great duel, another problem arises, the extent of which may be foreseen in some respects. Although not the only problem, it must be solved since it influences those which follow. Therefore, a deliberately planned great battle is to be regarded as the leading means and central point of the whole system.

    The more a general takes the field in the true spirit of war, with the feeling, the idea, and the conviction that he must and will conquer, the more he will strive to throw his total weight into the scale in the first battle. Napoleon rarely entered a war without thinking of conquering his enemy in the first battle. Frederick the Great, although in a more limited sphere and with interests of less magnitude at stake, thought the same when, at the head of a small army, he sought to disengage his rear from the Russians or the Federal Imperial Army.

    WAR AS AN INSTRUMENT OF POLICY

    No philosophy can unravel the contradictions between war and the other interests of men and society. Contradictions are founded in our very nature. We can, however, look for that unity which, in practical life, results when, contradictory elements partially neutralize each other. This unity would have been pointed out at the start if it had not been necessary to emphasize the contradictions. Now, this unity conceives that war is a part of political intercourse and by no means an independent thing in itself.

    We know, of course, that war is called forth only through the politiical intercourse of governments and nations. It is generally supposed that such intercourse is then broken off and replaced by a totally different state of affairs, subject to no control but that of the Law of War.

    On the contrary, we maintain that war is nothing but a continuation of politics, mixed with other means. We say mixed with other means in order to maintain that this political activity does not cease with the coming of war, nor is it changed into something quite different. It continues to exist, in whatever form and regardless of the main lines along which the war progresses. The general line of politics runs through the war until peace comes. How can we conceive it to be otherwise? Does the cessation of diplomatic notes stop the political relations between nations and governments? Is not war merely another kind of writing and language for political thoughts? It has certainly a grammar of its own; but its logic is not peculiar to itself.

    Thus, war can never be separated from politics. If this were done, all the threads of social, military, human, and other relations would be broken, and we would have before us a directionless state of affairs.

    POLITICAL CONTRADICTION

    This concept of contradictions would be indispensable even if war were a perfect thing and rested abstractly on: our own power, the enemy’s power, allies on both sides, the characteristics of the people and their governments respectively. But these are all of a political nature, and so intimately connected with political intercourse that it is impossible to separate them. This view is doubly significant if we reflect that real war is no such consistent effort tending to an extreme, as it should be if it were an abstract idea, but a half-and-half affair—a contradiction in itself. As such, it cannot follow its own laws, but must be looked upon as a part of another whole—and this whole is politics.

    In making use of war, politics avoids all those rigorous conclusions which proceed from its nature. It troubles itself little about final possibilities, confining its attention to immediate probabilities. If such uncertainty in the whole action ensues therefrom, if it thereby becomes a sort of game, the politics of each government believes that in this game it will surpass its neighbor in skill and sharpsightedness.

    Politics makes a mere instrument out of the overpowering element of war. It changes the great battle sword, which should be lifted in both hands and with the whole power of the body to strike once and for all, into a light, flexible weapon, sometimes nothing more than a rapier to exchange thrusts, feints, and parries.

    Thus, the contradiction in which man, naturally timid, becomes involved by war may be solved if we choose to accept this as the solution.

    If war belongs to politics, it will naturally take its character from politics. If a nation’s politics is grand and powerful, so also will be its war. This may be carried to a point in which war achieves its absolute form. In viewing the subject this way, we need not shut out of sight the absolute form of war. Rather, we keep it continually in view, but slightly in the background.

    Only with this viewpoint does war recover unity; only in this way can we see all wars as things of one kind. This is the only philosophy by which we can obtain a basic understanding from which to trace and determine great plans.

    It is true that the political element does interfere with the details of war. Pickets are not planted nor do patrols make their rounds because of political considerations. But small as its influence may be in this respect, it is dominant in the formation of a plan for a whole war or campaign, and often even for a battle.

    GENERAL PRINCIPLES

    There are three principal objects in carrying on war:

    1. To conquer and destroy the enemy’s force.

    2. To get possession of the material elements of aggression and of the other sources of existence of the hostile army.

    3. To win public opinion.

    To attain the first object, the chief operation must be directed against the enemy’s principal army, or at least against an important portion of the hostile force, for it must be beaten before we can successfully attempt the other two objects.

    In order to seize the enemy's material forces, operations are directed against those points at which those resources are chiefly concentrated: principal towns, ammunition dumps, great fortresses. On the road to these, the enemy’s main force, or a considerable part of it, will be encountered.

    Public opinion is ultimately gained by great victories and the possession of the enemy’s capital city.

    The first, and most important, principle we can set before us for the attainment of these objects is: Employ all the available forces with the utmost energy.

    Every weakness in this respect hampers the achievement of the objective. Even if the results are fairly certain, it is extremely unwise not to use the fullest effort to make it absolutely certain. Such effort can never produce an injurious effect. Although the country may suffer ever so much, no disadvantage can arise, because the war pressure is all the sooner removed.

    The second principle is: Concentrate as much force as possible at the point where the decisive blows are to be struck, even running the risk of being at a disadvantage at other points, in order to make sure of the result at the crucial spot. Success at that point will compensate for all defeats at secondary places.

    The third principle is: "Don’t lose time. If delay will bring no special and considerable advantage, it is important to commence work as quickly as possible. With speed, many enemy measures can be nipped in the bud, and public opinion turns in our favor.

    The fourth principle is: Follow up any success with the greatest vigor.

    The first of these principles is the foundation of the three others. If we have followed the first we can venture to any length regarding the others, without risking everything. It continually creates new forces behind us, and with fresh forces disaster may be repaired.

    SMALL STATES CANNOT FIGHT

    Small states, in the present day, cannot indulge in wars of conquest; but their means are great for defensive warfare. Therefore, I am convinced that whoever calls forth all his powers so that he can constantly fight with new troops, whoever adopts every imaginable preparation, whoever concentrates his forces at the decisive point, whoever, thus armed, pursues his great object with resolution and energy, has done all that can be done for the strategic conduct of the war. Unless he is altogether unfortunate in battle, he will be victorious in the same measure as his adversary has fallen short of such exertion and energy.

    Due attention having been paid to these principles, the forms in which operations are carried on are of little consequence in the end. I shall, however, try to explain in a few words which are most important.

    The principle of concentrating as much force as possible at the decisive point is opposed to the idea of strategic envelopment. Naturally, the battle order of troops springs from this principle. On that account I said, with reason, that the form of the battle order is of little consequence. There is, however, one case in which strategic operation against the enemy’s flank leads to great results similar to those of a battle. That is when the enemy, in a poor or impoverished country, has by great exertion formed large supply depots upon the preservation of which his operations depend.

    In such case it may be advisable not to march with a mass of forces against the enemy’s principal strength, but to push forward against his supply bases. For this there are two prerequisites:

    1. That the enemy is so far from his base that he will be forced to make a long retreat; and

    2. That, with a few troops and the help of natural and artificial obstacles, he can be so harassed on the roads that no conquests he can make will compensate for the loss of his base.

    [The ideas of Clausewitz strike home with brutal frankness, but it must be borne in mind that his writings represented military theories rather than concepts of a militaristic philosophy. The basic difference between the military and militaristic approach to war may appear immaterial at first sight. In the final analysis, however, the distinction is fundamental and fateful.*

    [The military way is marked by a primary concentration of men and materials on winning specific objectives of power with the utmost efficiency, that is, with the least expenditure of blood and treasure, writes Alfred Vagts in his History of Militarism. It is limited in scope, confined to one function, and scientific in its essential qualities. Militarism on the other hand, presents a vast array of customs, interests, prestige, actions and thought associated with armies and wars and yet transcending true military purposes.

    [According to Vagts, militarism is not the opposite of pacifism. Its true counterpart is civilianism. Love of war, bellicosity, is the counterpart of the love of peace, pacifism; but militarism is more, and sometimes less, than the love of war. It covers every system of thinking and valuing and every complex of feelings which rank military institutions and ways above the ways of civilian life, carrying military mentality and modes of acting and decision into the civilian sphere.

    [Thus torn between the military way and the militaristic way, the dynamics of a nation at war rests upon its predominating attitudes toward war in general. These attitudes may be based on the voluntary participation that characterizes the democratic war effort or on the en-forced subordination and regimentation of totalitarian states.

    [Winston Churchill, in his address to the American Congress, said: For the best part of twenty years the youth of Britain and America have been taught that war was evil, which is true, and that it would never come again, which has been proved false. The youth of Germany, of Japan and Italy have been taught that aggressive war is the noblest duty of the citizen. This, naturally, has placed us at a disadvantage which only time, courage, and untiring exertion can correct.

    [But of course, the basic difference is much more deeply seated than in the mere superficial aftermath of a concentrated propaganda of disillusionment. Nations react differently to the attraction of war. The French, for example, hate war because, as Fontenelle remarked, it spoils conversation. The militarists of Czarist Russia hated war because, in the words of the mythical grand duke, it usually spoiled their armies. Americans hate war because it spoils peace.

    [There is no weakness or cowardice in this natural dislike of war. A German observer, analyzing the American’s attitude, discovered an underlying belligerency in the latter’s religious love of peace. The cult of freedom by itself satisfies the American people, wrote Friedrich Schoenemann in 1934. "Cheek by jowl with the people’s inborn pacifism, it assumes the attitude of messianism which keeps on penetrating into world politics. Ever since the days of President Wilson, Americans worship peace as an ideal and as a theory, since no progress is imaginable without it. This is the basic current of American life.

    ["In practice, this faith developed into the pacifism that is now cultivated in the United States. But even the slightest impulse is capable of turning this peculiar pacifism into extreme belligerency, especially with an emotionally excitable people like the Americans.

    [War is identical with militarism, which Americans abhor. But a war for peace, a war to end war, is not only permissible but necessary.

    [War, however, is the last resort, the atavistic reaction of a good-natured giant when provoked beyond endurance. The real American attitude toward war was best expressed by Benjamin Franklin when he said that there never was a good war or, for that matter, a bad peace.

    [Directly opposed to this attitude is the German apotheosis of war. As if answering Franklin, Nietzsche wrote: Ye shall love peace as a means to new wars and the short peace more than the long. Such rationalization became the foundation of the German attitude ever since Hegel glorified war as an invaluable instrument in aiding the moral advancement of mankind. Just as the movement of the ocean prevents the corruption which would be the result of perpetual calm, Hegel wrote in his Philosophy of Right, so, by war, people escape the corruption which would be occasioned by perpetual peace.

    [Indeed, Count Moltke, the elder, described perpetual peace as a dream, and not even a pretty one at that, while war is a link in God’s own order of the world. It was on such foundation that a philosophy of war was developed in Germany.]

    PHILOSOPHY OF WAR

    By Karl Linnebach ¹⁰⁹

    [1934]

    A philosophy of war is not recognized as an independent discipline, either by academic philosophy or by the science of war. Although the term frequently appears in titles of books, no philosophical or military dictionary, no encyclopedia or reference book lists it as a specific science. Even the question whether Clausewitz’s book On War is a philosophy of war or a theory of war has not been conclusively answered. Clausewitz, himself, called his book a theory of war in its contents and a philosophy of war only in its form of presentation.

    Man is intrigued by the mighty historical phenomenon of war, recurrently and brutally challenging nations and peoples. The philosophy of war seeks answers to a series of complex questions raised by this phenomenon. Can war be reconciled with our concepts, convictions, and sentiments of religion, morality and legality? Is war a crime or a destiny, avoidable or inevitable? Is it beneficial to mankind and indispensable for its progress, or is it a pernicious plague?

    The answers to these queries differ according to the philosophical outlook, character, spiritual and physical background of the questioner. They cover a wide variety of concepts, from the pacifist’s demand for complete abolition of armed conflicts to the militarist’s glorification of war. Between these extremes is the acceptance of war as a destiny, to be borne manfully and to be resolved manfully.

    A few early attempts, like the writings of General Wilhelm Marx and Captain W. von Wolff, failed to provide conclusive answers to the basic questions raised by the philosophical problem-presentation of war. Their study was limited in scope and biased by a strictly biological approach. Moreover, they carried their argument ad absurdum. Wolff, for example, defined war as the love of life in its passionate form. According to him, "the First* World War was meaningless in the philosophical sense, a statement that may be valid for all protracted wars. Wolff recognizes the sweeping nature of his tenet when he says that meaningful wars are (not ‘must be’) of short duration." He then endeavors to support this statement with historical references to past wars in which fighting ceased during the winter and a virtually new war started in the spring.

    Another interesting, but basically mistaken, approach to war philosophy was attempted by [a group of young army officers gathered around] Ernst Juenger. This school is characterized by a heroic-realistic attitude toward war, recognizing in war and peace nothing but two poles of a basically peaceless life, the reality of our environment being charged with struggle and tension. This is an attitude whose immense moral importance for action cannot be overemphasized. But it remains inadequate from the philosophical angle, since it identifies war with combat, terms closely related but by no means identical. In its final analysis, the philosophy of war is designed to identify the very distinction which Juenger and his school try to evade by oversimplification.

    These contributions to a philosophy of war belong in a category of studies which Rickert identified as philosophy of life. The most important representative of this school is Henri Bergson, whose book The Two Sources of Morality and Religion is significant from the point of view of a philosophy of war, since it emphasizes the basic difference between the closed society (the state) and open society (mankind). He believes that, while nature created man for the closed society, at the same time it planted in him an eternal yearning for the never-to-be-reached open society. Thus, one of the pivots of the philosophy of war—the controversy between the state and the individual—is clearly emphasized. Moreover, the natural right to existence of the closed society places the state above the rights and lives of individuals without which the right and meaning of war cannot be understood.

    Similar thoughts [the origin of which goes back to Hegel] are represented by two important contemporary German war philosophers who are not oriented toward Rickert or Bergson’s philosophy of life. As far back as 1921, Binder based the state’s inalienable right to war on its inherent moral substance. He said that pacifists reject war on the basis of strict individualism which is interested only in the well-being of the individual, and never considers the interests of the state.

    In a later book, Binder examines the moral justification of war and the possibility of permanent peace. Sharply rejecting the individualist’s approach, he says: The individual is possible and real only as a member of the whole.

    The innate substance of the state provides the moral justification of a war that is waged by the necessity of the state, which is the end forming its own object and ultimate purpose, determined to fulfill a historical task that causes it to seize arms and which, beyond all questions concerning men involved in this struggle, provides war with a moral consecration. Like Hegel, Binder maintains that a war is justified if it turns out to be morally necessary, no matter whether it is waged as an aggressive, defensive, or preventive war. The moral justification cannot be determined by a human tribunal but must be left to the verdict of the ‘eternal Judge.’

    Binder denies even the possibility of abolishing war, since war is no legal institution that can be established and abrogated, but a state of affairs between belligerents. There can be no impartial force superior to the state that would be in a position to impose its will on quarreling states during their recurrent conflicts. [This whole approach is strictly in line with the Hegelian philosophy which rejects the idea of morally free individuals and of a world court promulgated by Fichte.]

    Ernest Horneffer [the other contemporary war philosopher whose thinking influences or reflects the Nazi attitude toward war] proceeds from the state, which he accepts as the fountain and source, creator and bearer of war and peace. He likens wars to revolutions and asks: is there a moral justification of war or a moral justification of a revolution? Life uses wars and revolutions to destroy the forms and norms created by itself as the only means to prevent them from becoming rigid, inflexible, stale, and from decaying. Peaceful means cannot bring about reforms. When life is roused to anger, revolution and war become a sacred right. Strangely enough, Horneffer calls this theory pacifism.

    [It should be noted that this philosophical exultation of war was written prior to the Nazis’ coming into power, by conservatives and reactionary radicals, but not by members of the Nazi Party. Hitler himself has never glorified war in so many words. This, of course, does not mean that he was sincere when he defined war as a lunacy without an end, protesting that his government would try to prevent a peaceless development of European affairs through honest and active co-operation. He qualified this seemingly unequivocal statement with so many ifs and whens, that his message of peace sounded like a standing declaration of war.

    [But Hitler is a Realpolitiker who loathes a philosophical fathoming of war’s meaning and importance. When it comes to a moral justification of war, he prefers outright falsification of history to long-winded philosophical arguments. War is the means and not the end to his mind trained on Macchiavelli, Bismarck and Karl May, a second-rate writer of the adventures of the American Indian whose books influenced Hitler’s political philosophy to no small degree.

    [While war is but a device with the Nazis, it is a deep-seated conviction with the Prussian reactionaries brought up and kept alive on the culture-medium of nineteenth century militarism. A representative of this school is the author of the following article whose philosophy of war is based on the maxim of war as an eternal reality.]

    WAR

    By General Adalbert von Taysen¹⁵⁹

    [1936]

    The law of nature is the survival of the fittest. This means that strength and efficiency must prevail, and whatever is too weak for life must succumb and be destroyed. Man, too, is subject to this immutable law, both as an individual and collectively in the family, clan, tribe, or nation.

    Thus, the struggle of nations for living space and the conditions of life aims at the survival and the improvement of the species. The extreme form of this struggle is war.

    The outward form of war may change, but its nature remains the same. There will be war as long as there are human beings. War is not a contradiction of nature, but the ultimate realization of nature. No nation can escape it.

    War destroys and annihilates. It purges and eliminates obsolete institutions. But it also develops institutions that are powerful and sound, and clears the way for a new life to be born among the ruins. Thus, war is the great constructive force in world history, and has a decisive influence upon the formation and growth of states. At the same time, war is a heroic test of the nations.

    Just as natural catastrophes overtake humanity from time to time, so the opposition of crowded and ambitious nations, in the struggle for economic and political power, has always led to war, and always will. Pacifism, arising primarily after long and severe wars, is a sign of exhaustion and decay. It sees only the purely negative, destructive, and terrible face of war. In the last analysis, pacifism is based upon an egotistical preoccupation with life; with temporal well-being.

    This unheroic conception of life cannot understand the high moral value of self-sacrifice and the will to fight to the last for the survival of the nation. The renunciation of war has always undermined national morale and has led to effeminacy and decay. Peace must end in ruin and loss of liberty, because it violates the natural law of the survival of the species.

    Attempts to make war more humane by limiting the use of certain especially effective weapons, such as submarines, aerial weapons, have little chance of success. War is waged by nation against nation for ultimate survival.

    Otherwise, an aggressive and less scrupulous enemy would gain his own ends. It is, therefore, a part of self-preservation during a war to employ all the spiritual, intellectual, physical, and material resources of the entire nation. Only nations poor in materials, with halfhearted leadership, fail in their objectives; these nations contain within themselves the seeds of defeat.

    To arouse and maintain the will to battle of a whole nation—a necessity for attaining victory—there is needed a war aim which is not only worth the effort of the war, but also morally justifies engaging in war. War aims may be inspired by power politics and by politico-economic reasons. They may be active or passive, depending on whether they strive to extend or merely to maintain the nation’s living space.

    The Seven Years’ War (1756-1763) ended indecisively with the general exhaustion of the combatants and without either victor or vanquished, but little Prussia, which had successfully withstood the onslaught of a world of enemies, was the real victor. It had attained its war aim of self-preservation. Had the First World War ended in a similar manner, world history undoubtedly would have awarded the palm of victory to the Central Powers, which had been fighting for their lives against vastly superior forces.

    The true war aims need not be revealed in the reasons given for entering the war. Usually, these reasons are a mere excuse for beginning a war which may long since have become inevitable.

    On moral grounds, the nation’s will to war must be inflamed by the proclamation of expedient reasons for war. From the viewpoint of political morality this might be condemned, but it can never be left undone. In the very nature of politics, war can have nothing to do with concepts of morality. Politics and war are amoral, rather than immoral. The ethics of war has nothing to do with such narrow moral considerations. The virtue of war resides solely in the heroic and self-sacrificing willingness to die for the nation, to risk everything for its honor, liberty, and life.

    On the other hand, even a successful war must be justified by historical necessity. Otherwise, sooner or later, the inexorable pendulum of fate will swing back. Like the sword of Damocles, divine retribution hangs threateningly over every state—even a victorious one—which un-chains the furies of war irresponsibly or for ignoble reasons. A nation conscious of its moral historical duty may, however, regain material advantages and new life even after a great defeat, if it has remained worthy of these gifts.

    In this connection, consider briefly the problem of the preventive war. A nation facing an imminent and irrepressible conflict may anticipate its enemy by' starting the war at the time and under the conditions most favorable to itself. The preventive war is based on political or on military reasons. A particularly favorable political situation or a temporary military advantage may induce the leadership of a nation to precipitate the struggle which would sooner or later have become inevitable. Frederick the Great, in the late summer of 1756, went to war after receiving indisputable information that Austria, France, and Russia had decided to destroy the young, rising Prussian state the following spring. [This, of course, is the familiar German custom of retrospective falsification, justifying an aggressive war as a preventive measure. Hitler represented all his invasions as preventive wars, his Foreign Office obligingly faking all the necessary diplomatic documents to prove his point. Anxious to keep the entire Axis record clean, the Germans described the Japanese attack or the United States as a preventive measure, claiming that American planes were poised to attack Formosa on December 8, 1941. In the same breath, however, the Nazis taunted the United States for their lack o preparation.]

    Preventive wars happen but infrequently, although nations occasionally play with the idea when a favorable situation arises. After thinking it over, however, they are usually afraid to take the final step. The' are aware, of course, that in case of failure, the other nations of the world would attack them as unjustified aggressors with some genuine, but mostly pretended indignation.

    The great risk of a preventive war will be assumed either by a conscienceless and irresponsible gambler or by a great, heroic leader, who will make decision only after intense soul-searching. In no case should it be undertaken by the mediocrity who, all too

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