Agree as to what essentially strategic theory is supposed to be? More than opinion? Planning? . . . Considering and maybe answering those questions would clear up a number of ambiguities.

Rainy and cold in northern Portugal, but cozy at home. Hope everyone the best.

The balance will not be dead center unless the weights on either pole are equal. And to Clausewitz, the weights are not equal.

A further example: The balance lies closer to “absolute war” than to stasis and inaction.

In this conceptual framework two ideal types form two „poles“, but are better viewed as opposite banks of a river (using metaphor here). „Theory“ operates between the two poles moving at times closer to one pole and then veering off (oscillating) towards the other. Neither ideal type is ever reached, since neither is actually seen as „real“ rather only as one of two extremes, that is a conceptual tool. The perfect strategy that Clausewitz describes would remain dead-center of the oscillating dialectic of the two poles, that is could be seen as a third ideal type, or in terms of a „balance“ of the oscillating dialectic of the two original ideal types.

I have been thinking something similar, but I would make a distinction between that dead center and “balance.” I think that Clausewitz is dealing more with balance than splitting the difference. Thus his balance lies closer to boldness than timidity, for only one example.

There are no guarantees that this will lead to better policy however, or to more practical and farsighted statesmen, even the best strategic theory could not save Prussia which no longer exists as a political entity.

To make sure I understand you: You mean to say that Prussia would have been destroyed even if it had employed the best strategic theory? I am not sure I agree. Creating a united Germany dominated by Prussia was a reasonable thing to do. Then of course, the quality of strategic thinking collapsed, with the Kaiser and his entourage in charge. I tend to think that an even reasonable strategic theory, even reasonably applied, could have led to a German-dominated Europe with no world war. Heck, even as late as Spring 1918, a little admixture of other means – diplomacy and politics – to Ludendorff’s tactically competent and strategically aimless offensives (“Purpose? To rip a hole in their line!”) could have vastly changed the outcome. Hans Delbruck wrote in the Winter of 1918, before the offensives, that the only way out for Germany was a diplomatic and political offensive along with the military offensive – to demand a deal at Germany’s moment of maximum strength. Who knows? But by then, there was no one left with any common sense in charge of affairs.

What causes even the best strategy to fail are the frictions and political confusion associated with “war in reality” as well as the tendencies toward extremes associated with “absolute war”.

There is a third one, isn’t there, the other bank of the river: The tendency of limited wars to wind down into minor operations, to demonstrations to stasis, to putter out. He describes this in Chapter 16. “War in reality” seems to oscillate between this pole, and the pole of absolute war. The war of “small change” can actually happen in practice and has. But it is always precarious, because if one of the two opponents “gets serious”, then you are back into a serious, and likely escalating, level of conflict.

I like very much your contrast between the theorist, whose work in planning and writing critical studies of military history, versus the commander “is operating in real time, effectively harnessing the moral and physical forces available”. Of course, this commander may or may not be a genius. Ideally, he is. If he is not, he is going to have a hard time, because being less than a genius means you are likely to fail at the most demanding of endeavors: High command in wartime. As a result, you note, the theorist and historian is subject to criticism on objective standards, where the military commander, particularly the commander of genius, was operating at a level and under such stresses that he cannot be criticized in the same way.

I am not sure what you mean by saying that Clausewitz is a “mentalist” like Weber, and hence “puts the focus on ideas, motivations, and ‘the march of rationalization’, not on material or ‘ideal’ factors.” But he expressly enumerates many material factors. Ideas an motivation fall within his “moral factors”, I think. And while he says they cannot be enumerated only felt, he does enumerate them. I think he means you cannot quantify them. He does think you can make a list and talk about them, but you only really understand the moral factors that influence an army and its commander if you live them or see them in action. I don’t know what you mean by “ideal factors”. If you mean idealistic ones like patriotism, he does discuss those. As to the “march of rationalization”, he repudiates the idea that the march of “progress” will lead to a “war of algebra”. He does note the increasing organization and sophistication of armies and anticipates that the process will continue. So, the march of rationalization would be a rationalization of means, but potentially in the service of passions and sentiments – following Napoleon’s eagles all the way to Moscow, for example.

I agree based on my exposure to Weber, that Clausewitz on several occasions reminded me of Weber – particularly in the use of “ideal types” to clarify more complex real world phenomena.

I am in partial agreement regarding Clausewitz on surprise and deception. I agree that under the conditions of his day, as he himself explains, neither is likely to be strategically significant. But, the conditions of his day were temporary, and limited in space as well as time. I don’t think he would have disagreed with that.

I suppose he would have found the Cossacks distasteful, but I do not think that any such emotional response drove his analysis. I do know, as he surely knew, that a disciplined army, one that was not in the midst of a catastrophic retreat would, make short work of ill-disciplined, irregular cavalry like the Cossacks. I don’t think it was a matter of sentiment. Rather, he saw, and I think correctly, that the organized and disciplined approach that the major powers all shared, was the stronger and more decisive form of war.

I agree with you that the examples of a mobilized populace, as exemplified by France, Spain and Russia are still relevant. I would go further, and say that the negative example, of a nation whose “heart and temper” do not support a part means a serious diminishment in the overall “war potential, and fighting strength”, and that imperialistic, or expeditionary enterprises, where an existential issues is not (clearly) at stake, is hard to sustain in the long run or at great cost. The British conquered their empire with a small number of long-service volunteers. America conquered the Indians with a similar small, professional force. America’s overseas ventures and small wars were fought with an all volunteer Marine Corps, or with special purpose volunteers, as in Cuba and the Philippines. The lesson is, if you are going to undertake a major war, then the political leadership needs to be able to stimulate and sustain public support for the war. If, on the other hand, the war is going to be small, then the political leadership needs to have restrained aims, within the capacity of the existing professional force, and only minimally engage public sentiment in the enterprise. To try to split the difference, as Mr. Bush did, would require a miracle not to end as a failure.

Finally, I found the discussion of and tension in the last chapter to be hard to follow. I would be interested in how this relates to Delbrück and Svechin.