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ARMS AND INFLUENCE The Strategic Role of Pain and Damage
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not give in.
ARMS AND INFLUENCE The Strategic Role of Pain and Damage
THE DIPLOMACY OF VIOLENCE 13
not give in.
Schelling - The Diplomacy of Violence
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The usual distinction between diplomacy and force is not merely in the instruments, words or bullets, but in the relation between adversaries-in the interplay of motives and the role of communication, understandings, compromise, and restraint.
Diplomacy is bargaining; it seeks outcomes that, though not ideal for either party, are better for both than some of the alternatives.
In diplomacy each party somewhat controls what the other wants, and can get more by compromise, exchange, or collaboration than by taking things in his own hands and ignoring the other's wishes.
The bargaining can be polite or rude, entail threats as well as offers, assume a status quo or ignore all rights and privileges, and assume mistrust rather than trust.
But whether polite or impolite, constructive or aggres- sive, respectful or vicious, whether it occurs among friends or antagonists and whether or not there is a basis for trust and goodwill, there must be some common interest, if only in the avoidance of mutual damage, and an awareness of the need to make the other party prefer an outcome acceptable to oneself.
With enough military force a country may not need to bargain. Some things a country wants it can take, and some things it has it can keep, by sheer strength, skill and ingenuity. It can do thisforcibly, accommodating only to opposing strength, skill, and ingenuity and without trying to appeal to an enemy's wishes. Forcibly a country can repel and expel, penetrate and occupy, seize, exterminate, disarm and disable, confine, deny access, and directly frustrate intrusion or attack. It can, that is, if it has enough strength. "Enough" depends on how much an opponent has.
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There is something else, though, that force can do. It is less military, less heroic, less impersonal, and less unilateral; it is uglier, and has received less attention in Western military strat- egy. In addition to seizing and holding, disarming and confin- ing, penetrating and obstructing, and all that, military force can be used to hurt. In addition to taking and protecting things of value it can destroy value. In addition to weakening an enemy militarily it can cause an enemy plain suffering.
Pain and shock, loss and grief, privation and horror are al- ways in some degree, sometimes in terrible degree, among the results ofwarfare; but in traditional military science they are in- cidental, they are not the object. I f violence can be done inci- dentally, though, it can also be done purposely. The power to hurt can be counted among the most impressive attributes of military force.
Hurting, unlike forcible seizure or self-defense, is not uncon- cerned with the interest of others. It is measured in the suffering it can cause and the victims' motivation to avoid it. Forcible ac- tion will work against weeds or floods as well as against armies, but suffering requires a victim that can feel pain or has some- thing to lose. To inflict suffering gains nothing and saves noth- ing directly; it can only make people behave to avoid it. The only purpose,unlesssportorrevenge,mustbetoinfluencesomebody's behavior, to coerce his decision or choice. To be coercive, violence has to be anticipated. And it has to be avoidable by accommodation. The power to hurt is bargaining power. To exploit it is diplomacy-vicious diplomacy, but diplomacy.
The Contrast of Brute Force with Coercion
There is a difference between taking what you want and making someone give it to you, between fending off assault and making someone afraid to assault you, between holding what people are trying to take and making them afraid to take it, between l? sing what someone can forcibly take and giving it up to avoid nsk or damage. It is the difference between defense and deter- rence, between brute force and intimidation, between conquest and blackmail, between action and threats. It is the difference
between the unilateral, "undiplomatic" recourse to strength, and coercive diplomacy based on the power to hurt.
The contrasts are several. The purely "military" or "undiplo- matic" recourse to forcible action is concerned with enemy strength, not enemy interests; the coercive use of the power to hurt, though, is the very exploitation of enemy wants and fears. And brute strength is usually measured relative to enemy strength, the one directly opposing the other, while the power to hurt is typically not reduced by the enemy's power to hurt in return. Opposing strengths may cancel each other, pain and grief do not. The willingness to hurt, the credibility of a threat, and the ability to exploit the power to hurt will indeed depend on how much the adversary can hurt in return; but there is little or nothing about an adversary's pain or grief that directly re- duces one's own. Two sides cannot both overcome each other with superior strength; they may both be able to hurt each other. With strength they can dispute objects of value; with sheer violence they can destroy them.
And brute force succeeds when it is used, whereas the power to hurt is most successful when held in reserve. It is the threat of damage, or of more damage to come, that can make someone yield or comply. It is latent violence that can influence some- one's choice-violence that can still be withheld or inflicted, or that a victim believes can be withheld or inflicted. The threat of pain tries to structure someone's motives, while brute force tries to overcome his strength. Unhappily, the power to hurt is often communicated by some performance of it. Whether it is sheer terroristic violence to induce an irrational response, or cool premeditated violence to persuade somebody that you mean it and may do it again~ it is not the pain and damage itself but its influence on somebody's behavior that matters. It is the expec- tation of more violence that gets the wanted behavior, if the power to hurt can get it at all.
To exploit a capacity for hurting and inflicting damage one needs to know what an adversary treasures and what scares him and one needs the adversary to understand what behavior ofhis will cause the violence to be inflicted and what will cause it to
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be withheld. The victim has to know what is wanted, and he may have to be assured of what is not wanted. The pain and suffering have to appear contingent on his behavior; it is not alone the threat that is effective-the threat ofpain or loss ifhe fails to comply-but the corresponding assurance, possibly an implicit one, that he can avoid the pain or loss if he does comply. The prospect of certain death may stun him, but it gives him no choice.
Coercionbythreatofdamagealsorequiresthatourinterestsand our opponent's not be absolutely opposed. If his pain were our greatest delight and our satisfaction his greatest woe, we would just proceed to hurt and to frustrate each other. It is when his pain gives us little or no satisfaction compared with what he can do for us, and the action or inaction that satisfies us costs him less than the pain we can cause, that there is room for coercion. Coercion requiresfindingabargain,arrangingforhimtobebetteroffdoing what we want-worse off not doing what we want-when he takes the threatened penalty into account.
It is this capacity for pure damage, pure violence, that is usu- ally associated with the most vicious labor disputes, with racial disorders, with civil uprisings and their suppression, with rack- eteering. It is also the power to hurt rather than brute force that we use in dealing with criminals; we hurt them afterward, or threaten to, for their misdeeds rather than protect ourselves with cordons of electric wires, masonry walls, and armed guards. Jail, of course, can be either forcible restraint or threat- ened privation; if the object is to keep criminals out of mischief by confinement, success is measured by how many of them are gotten behind bars, but if the object is to threaten privation, success will be measured by how few have to be put behind bars and success then depends on the subject's understanding of the consequences. Pure damage is what a car threatens when it tries to hog the road or to keep its rightful share, or to go first through an intersection. A tank or a bulldozer can force its way regardless of others' wishes; the rest of us have to threat- en damage, usually mutual damage, hoping the other driver values his car or his limbs enough to give way, hoping he
sees us, and hoping he is in control of his own car. The threat of pure damage will not work against an unmanned vehicle.
This difference between coercion and brute force is as often in the intent as in the instrument. To hunt down Comanches and to exterminate them was brute force; to raid their villages to make them behave was coercive diplomacy, based on the power to hurt. The pain and loss to the Indians might have looked much the same one way as the other; the difference was one of purpose and effect. If Indians were killed because they were in the way, or somebody wanted their land, or the authorities despaired of making them behave and could not confine them and decided to exterminate them, that was pure unilateral force. I f some Indians were killed to make other Indians behave, that was coercive violence-or intended to be, whether or not it was effective. The Germans at Verdun perceived themselves to be chewing up hundreds of thousands of French soldiers in a gruesome "meatgrinder. " If the purpose was to eliminate a military obstacle-the French infantryman, viewed as a mili- tary "asset" rather than as a warm human being-the offensive at Verdun was a unilateral exercise ofmilitary force. Ifinstead the object was to make the loss of young men-not of imper- sonal "effectives," but of sons, husbands, fathers, and the pride of French manhood-so anguishing as to be unendurable, to make surrender a welcome relief and to spoil the foretaste of an Allied victory, then it was an exercise in coercion, in applied violence, intended to offer relief upon accommodation. And of course, since any use of force tends to be brutal, thoughtless, vengeful, or plain obstinate, the motives themselves can be mixed and confused. The fact that heroism and brutality can be either coercive diplomacy or a contest in pure strength does not promise that the distinction will be made, and the strategies enlightened by the distinction, every time some vicious enter- prise gets launched.
The contrast between brute force and coercion is illustrated by two alternative strategies attributed to Genghis Khan. Early in his career he pursued the war creed of the Mongols: the van- quished can never be the friends of the victors, their death is
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necessary for the victor's safety. This was the unilateral exter- mination of a menace or a liability. The turning point of his career, according to Lynn Montross, came later when he dis- covered how to use his power to hurt for diplomatic ends. "The great Khan, who was not inhibited by the usual mercies, con- ceived the plan of forcing captives-women, children, aged fathers, favorite sons-to march ahead of his army as the first potential victims of resistance. "1 Live captives have often proved more valuable than enemy dead; and the technique dis- covered by the Khan in his maturity remains contemporary. North Koreans and Chinese were reported to have quartered prisoners of war near strategic targets to inhibit bombing at- tacks by United Nations aircraft. Hostages represent the power to hurt in its purest form.
Coercive Violence in Warfare
This distinction between the power to hurt and the power to seize or hold forcibly is important in modern war, both big war and little war, hypothetical war and real war. For many years the Greeks and the Turks on Cyprus could hurt each other in- definitely but neither could quite take or hold forcibly what they wanted or protect themselves from violence by physical means. The Jews in Palestine could not expel the British in the late 1940s but they could cause pain and fear and frustration through terrorism, and eventually influence somebody's deci- sion. The brutal war in Algeria was more a contest in pure violence than in military strength; the question was who would first find the pain and degradation unendurable. The French troops preferred-indeed they continually tried-to make it a contest of strength, to pit military force against the nationalists' capacity for terror, to exterminate or disable the nationalists and to screen off the nationalists from the victims of their vio- lence. But because in civil war terrorists commonly have access
to victims by sheer physical propinquity, the victims and their properties could not be forcibly defended and in the end the
1. Lynn Montross. War Through the Ages (3d ed. New York, Harper and Brothers, 1960), p. 146.
French troops themselves resorted, unsuccessfully, to a war of pain.
Nobody believes that the Russians can take Hawaii from us, or New York, or Chicago, but nobody doubts that they might destroy people and buildings in Hawaii, Chicago, or New York. Whether the Russians can conquer West Germany in any mean- ingful sense is questionable; whether they can hurt it terribly is not doubted. That the United States can destroy a large part of Russia is universally taken for granted; that the United States can keep from being badly hurt, even devastated, in return, or can keep Western Europe from being devastated while itselfde- stroying Russia, is at best arguable; and it is virtually out of the question that we could conquer Russia territorially and use its economic assets unless it were by threatening disaster and in- ducing compliance. It is the power to hurt, not military strength in the traditional sense, that inheres in our most impressive mili- tary capabilities at the present time. We have a Department of Defense but emphasize retaliation-"to return evil for evil" (synonyms: requital, reprisal, revenge, vengeance, retribution). And it is pain and violence, not force in the traditional sense, that inheres also in some of the least impressive military capa- bilities of the present time-the plastic bomb, the terrorist's bullet, the burnt crops, and the tortured farmer.
W ar appears to be, or threatens to be, not so much a contest of strength as one of endurance, nerve, obstinacy, and pain. It appears to be, and threatens to be, not so much a contest of military strength as a bargaining process--dirty, extortionate, and often quite reluctant bargaining on one side or both- nevertheless a bargaining process.
The difference cannot quite be expressed as one between the use of force and the threat of force. The actions involved in forcible accomplishment, on the one hand, and in fulfilling a threat, on the other, can be quite different. Sometimes the most effective direct action inflicts enough cost or pain on the ene- my to serve as a threat, sometimes not. The United States threat- ens the Soviet Union with virtual destruction ofits society in the event of a surprise attack on the United States; a hundred mil-
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lion deaths are awesome as pure damage, but they are useless in stopping the Soviet attack-especially if the threat is to do it all afterward anyway. So it is worthwhile to keep the concepts distinct-to distinguish forcible action from the threat of pain -recognizing that some actions serve as both a means offorci- ble accomplishment and a means of inflicting pure damage, some do not. Hostages tend to entail almost pure pain and damage,asdoallformsofreprisalafterthefact. Somemodesof self-defense may exact so little in blood or treasure as to entail negligible violence; and some forcible actions entail so much violence that their threat can be effective by itself.
The power to hurt, though it can usually accomplish nothing directly, is potentially more versatile than a straightforward capacity for forcible accomplishment. By force alone we can- not even lead a horse to water-we have to drag him-much less make him drink. Any affirmative action, any collabora- tion, almost anything but physical exclusion, expulsion, or ex- termination, requires that an opponent or a victim do some- thing, even if only to stop or get out. The threat of pain and damage may make him want to do it, and anything he can do is potentially susceptible to inducement. Brute force can only accomplish what requires no collaboration. The principle is illustrated by a technique of unarmed combat: one can disable a man by various stunning, fracturing, or killing blows, but to
take him to jail one has to exploit the man's own efforts. "Come-along" holds are those that threaten pain or disable- ment, giving relief as long as the victim complies, giving him the option of using his own legs to get to jail.
We have to keep in mind, though, that what is pure pain, or the threat of it, at one level of decision can be equivalent to brute force at another level. Churchill was worried, during the early bombing raids on London in 1940, that Londoners might panic. Against people the bombs were pure violence, to induce their undisciplined evasion; to Churchill and the government, the bombs were a cause of inefficiency, whether they spoiled trans- port and made people late to work or scared people and made them afraid to work. Churchill's decisions were not going
to be coerced by the fear of a few casualties. Similarly on the battlefield: tactics that frighten soldiers so that they run, duck their heads, or lay down their arms and surrender represent coercion based on the power to hurt; to the top command, which is frustrated but not coerced, such tactics are part of the contest in military discipline and strength.
The fact that violence-pure pain and damage-can be used or threatened to coerce and to deter, to intimidate and to blackmail, to demoralize and to paralyze, in a conscious process of dirty bargaining, does not by any means imply that violence is not often wanton and meaningless or, even when purposive, in danger of getting out of hand. Ancient wars were often quite "total" for the loser, the men being put to death, the women sold as slaves, the boys castrated, the cattle slaugh- tered, and the buildings leveled, for the sake of revenge,
justice, personal gain, or merely custom. I f an enemy bombs a city, by design or by carelessness, we usually bomb his if we can. In the excitement and fatigue of warfare, revenge is one of the few satisfactions that can be savored; and justice can often be construed to demand the enemy's punishment, even if it is delivered with more enthusiasm than justice requires. When Jerusalem fell to the Crusaders in 1099 the ensuing slaughter was one of the bloodiest in military chronicles. "The men of the West literally waded in gore, their march to the church of the Holy Sepulcher being gruesomely likened to 'treading out the wine press' . . . ," reports Montross (p. 138), who observes that these excesses usually came at the climax of the capture of a fortified post or city. "For long the assailants have endured more punishment than they were able to inflict; then once the walls are breached, pent up emotions find an outlet in murder, rape and plunder, which discipline is powerless to prevent. " The same occurred when Tyre fell to Alexander after a painful siege, and the phenomenon was not unknown on Pacific islands in the Second World War. Pure violence, like fire, can be harnessed to a purpose; that does not mean that behind every holocaust is a shrewd intention successfully fulfilled.
But if the occurrence of violence does not always bespeak a
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shrewd purpose, the absence of pain and destruction is no sign that violence was idle. Violence is most purposive and most successful when it is threatened and not used. Successful threats are those that do not have to be carried out. By European standards, Denmark was virtually unharmed in the Second World War; it was violence that made the Danes submit. Withheld violence-successfully threatened violence--can look clean, even merciful. The fact that a kidnap victim is returned unharmed, against receipt of ample ransom, does not make kidnapping a nonviolent enterprise. The American vic- tory at Mexico City in 1847 was a great success; with a minimum ofbrutality we traded a capital city for everything we wanted from the war. We did not even have to say what we could do to Mexico City to make the Mexican government understand what they had at stake. (They had undoubtedly got the message a month earlier, when Vera Cruz was being pounded into submission. After forty-eight hours of shellfire,
the foreign consuls in that city approached General Scott's headquarters to ask for a truce so that women, children, and neutrals could evacuate the city. General Scott, "counting on such internal pressure to help bring about the city's surrender," refused their request and added that anyone, soldier or noncom- batant, who attempted to leave the city would be fired upon. ) 2
Whether spoken or not, the threat is usually there. In earlier eras the etiquette was more permissive. When the Persians wanted to induce some Ionian cities to surrender and join them, without having to fight them, they instructed their ambassadors to
make your proposals to them and promise that, if they aban- don their allies, there will be no disagreeable consequences
2. Otis A. Singletary, The Mexican War (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1960), pp. 75-76. In a similar episode the Gauls, defending the town of Alesia in 52 B. C. , "decided to send out of the town those whom age or infirmity incapacitated for fighting. . . . They came up to the Roman fortifications and with tears besought the soldiers to take them as slaves and relieve their hunger. But Caesar posted guards on the ramparts with orders to refuse them admission. " Caesar, The Conquest ofGaul, s. A. Handford, transL (Baltimore, Penguin Books, 1951), p. 227.
for them; we will not set fire to their houses or temples, or threaten them with any greater harshness than before this trouble oc- curred. If, however, they refuse, and insist upon fighting, then you must resort to threats, and say exactly what we will do to them; tell them, that is, that when they are beaten they will be sold as slaves, their boys will be made eunuchs, their girls carried off to Bactria, and their land confiscated. 3
It sounds like Hitler talking to Schuschnigg. "I only need to give an order, and overnight all the ridiculous scarecrows on the frontier will vanish . . . Then you will really experience something. . . . After the troops will follow the S. A. and the Legion. No one will be able to hinder the vengeance, not even myself. "
Or Henry V before the gates of Harfleur:
W e may as bootless spend our vain command Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil
As send precepts to the leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people, Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 0 ' erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Y our fathers t~en by the silver beard,
And their most reverent heads dash'd to the walls, Y our naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds . . .
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid,
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
(Act III, Scene iii)
3. Herodotus, The Histories, Aubrey de Selincourt, trans! . (Baltimore, Penguin Books, 1954), p. 362.
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not give in. . . . He sent some of the prisoners into the hills and told them to say that if the inhabitants did not come down and settle in their houses to submit to him, he would bum up their villages too and destroy their crops, and they would die of hunger. 4
Military victory was but the price ofadmission. The payoffde- pended upon the successful threat of violence.
Like the Persian leader, the Russians crushed Budapest in 1956andcowedPolandandotherneighboringcountries. There was a lag of ten years between military victory and this show of violence, but the principle was the one explained by Xenophon. Military victory is often the prelude to violence, not the end of it, and the fact that successful violence is usually held in reserve should not deceive us about the role it plays.
What about pure violence during war itself, the infliction of pain and suffering as a military technique? Is the threat of pain involved only in the political use of victory, or is it a decisive technique of war itself?
Evidently between unequal powers it has been part of war- fare. Colonial conquest has often been a matter of "punitive ex- peditions" rather than genuine military engagements. If the tribesmen escape into the bush you can bum their villages with- out them until they assent to receive what, in strikingly modem language, used to be known as the Queen's "protection. " British air power was used punitively against Arabian tribes- men in the 1920s and 30s to coerce them into submission. 5
4. Xenophon, The Persian Expedition, Rex Warner, trans\. (Baltimore, Penguin Books, 1949), p. 272. "The 'rational' goal of the threat of vio- lence," says H. L. Nieburg, "is an accommodation of interests, not the provocation of actual violence. Similarly the 'rational' goal of actual violence is demonstration of the will and capability of action, establishing a measure of the credibility of future threats, not the exhaustion of that capability in unlimited conflict. " "Uses of Violence," Journal of Conflict Resolution, 7 (1963), 44.
5. A perceptive, thoughtful account of this tactic, and one that empha- sizes its "diplomatic" character, is in the lecture of Air Chief Marshal Lord Portal, "Air Force Cooperation in Policing the Empire. " "The
Pure violence, nonmilitary violence, appears most conspicu- ously in relations between unequal countries, where t~e:eis no substantial military challenge and the outcome of mllttary engagement is not in question. Hitler could make his threats contemptuously and brutally against Austria; he could make them, ifhe wished, in a more refined way against Denmark. It is noteworthy that it was Hitler, not his generals, who used this kind of language; proud military establishments do not like to think of themselves as extortionists. Their favorite job is to deliver victory, to dispose of opposing military force and to leave most of the civilian violence to politics and diplomacy.
But if there is no room for doubt how a contest in strength will come out, it may be possible to bypass the military stage altogether and to proceed at once to the coercive bargaining.
A typical confrontation of unequal forces occurs at the end of a war, between victor and vanquished. Where Austria was vulnerable before a shot was fired, France was vulnerable after its military shield had collapsed in 1940. Surrender negotiations are the place where the threat of civil violence can come to the fore. Surrender negotiations are often so one- sided, or the potential violence so unmistakable, that bargain- ing succeeds and the violence remains in reserve. But the fact
that most of the actual damage was done during the military stage of the war, prior to victory and defeat, does not mean that violence was idle in the aftermath, only that it was latent and the threat of it successful.
Indeed, victory is often but a prerequisite to the exploitation of the power to hurt. When Xenophon was fighting in Asia Minor under Persian leadership, it took military strength to disperse enemy soldiers and occupy their lands; but land was not what the victor wanted, nor was victory for its own sake.
Next day the Persian leader burned the villages to the ground, not leaving a single house standing, so as to strike terror into the other tribes to show them what would happen if they did
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If enemy forces are not strong enough to oppose, or are unwilling to engage, there is no need to achieve victory as a prerequisite to getting on with a display of coercive violence. When Caesar was pacifying the tribes of Gaul he sometimes had to fight his way through their armed men in order to subdue them with a display of punitive violence, but sometimes he was virtually unopposed and could proceed straight to the punitive display. To his legions there was more valor in fighting their way to the seat of power; but, as governor of Gaul, Caesar could view enemy troops only as an obstacle to his political control, and that control was usually based on the power to inflict pain, grief, and privation. In fact, he preferred to keep several hundred hostages from the unreliable tribes, so that his threat of
violence did not even depend on an expedition into the country- side.
Pure hurting, as a military tactic, appeared in some of the military actions against the plains Indians. In 1868, during the war with the Cheyennes, General Sheridan decided that his best hope was to attack the Indians in their winter camps. His reasoning was that the Indians could maraud as they pleased during the seasons when their ponies could subsist on grass, and in winter hide away in remote places. "To disabuse their minds from the idea that they were secure from punishment, and to
strike at a period when they were helpless to move their stock and villages, a winter campaign was projected against the large bands hiding away in the Indian territory. " 6
These were not military engagements; they were punitive attacks on people. They were an effort to subdue by the use of violence, without a futile attempt to draw the enemy's military forces into decisive battle. They were "massive retaliation" on a
law-breaking tribe must be given an alternative to being bombed and . . . be told in the clearest possible terms what that alternative is. " And, "It would be the greatest mistake to believe that a victory which spares the lives and feelings of the losers need be any less permanent or salutary than one which inflicts heavy losses on the fighting men and results in a 'peace' dictated on a stricken field. " Journal ofthe Royal United Services Institution (London, May 1937), pp. 343-58.
6. Paul 1. Wellman, Death on the Prairie (New York, Macmillan, 1934), p. 82.
diminutive scale, with local effects not unlike those of Hiroshima. The Indians themselves totally lacked organization and discipline, and typically could not afford enough ammuni- tion for target practice and were no military match for the cavalry; their own rudimentary strategy was at best one of harassment and reprisal. Half a century ofIndian fighting in the West left us a legacy of cavalry tactics; but it is hard to find a serious treatise on American strategy against the Indians or Indian strategy against the whites. The twentieth is not the first centuryinwhich"retaliation"hasbeenpartofourstrategy,but it is the first in which we have systematically recognized it.
Hurting, as a strategy, showed up in the American Civil War, but as an episode, not as the central strategy. For the most part, the Civil War was a military engagement with each side's military force pitted against the other's. The Confederate forces hoped to lay waste enough Union territory to negotiate their independence, but hadn't enough capacity for such violence to make it work. The Union forces were intent on military victory, and it was mainly General Sherman's march through Georgia that showed a conscious and articulate use of violence. "If the people raise a howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war . . . I f they want peace, they and their relatives must stop the war," Sherman wrote. And one of his associates said, "Sherman is perfectly right . . . The only possible way to end this unhappy and dreadful conflict . . . is to make it terrible beyond endurance. " 7
Making it "terrible beyond endurance" is what we associate with Algeria and Palestine, the crushing of Budapest and the tribal warfare in Central Africa. Butin the great wars of the last hundred years it was usually military victory, not the hurting of the people, that was decisive; General Sherman's attempt to make war hell for the Southern people did not come to
7. J. F. C. Fuller reproduces some of this correspondence and remarks, "For the nineteenth century this was a new conception, because it meant that the deciding factor in the war-the powerto sue for peace-was transferred from government to people, and that peacemaking was a product of revolution. This was to carry the principle of democracy to its ultimate stage. . . . " The Conduct ofWar: 1789-1961 (New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1961), pp. 107-12.
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epitomize military strategy for the century to follow. To seek out and to destroy the enemy's military force, to achieve a crushing victory over enemy armies, was still the avowed pur- pose and the central aim of American strategy in both world wars. Military action was seen as an alternative to bargaining, not a process of bargaining.
The reason is not that civilized countries are so averse to hurting people that they prefer "purely military" wars. (Nor were all ofthe participants in these wars entirely civilized. ) The reason is apparently that the technology and geography of war- fare, at least for a war between anything like equal powers dur- ing the century ending in World War II, kept coercive violence from being decisive before military victory was achieved. Blockade indeed was aimed at the whole enemy nation, not concentrated on its military forces; the German civilians who died of influenza in the First World War were victims of violence directed at the whole country. It has never been quite clearwhetherblockade-oftheSouthintheCivilWarorofthe
Central Powers in both world wars, or submarine warfare against Britain-was expected to make war unendurable for the people orjust to weaken the enemy forces by denying economic support. Both arguments were made, but there was no need to be clear about the purpose as long as either purpose was regarded as legitimate and either might be served. "Strategic bombing" ofenemy homelands was also occasionally rational- ized in terms of the pain and privation it could inflict on people and the civil damage it could do to the nation, as an effort to display either to the population or to the enemy leadership that surrenderwasbetterthanpersistenceinviewofthedamagethat could be done. It was also rationalized in more "military" terms, as a way of selectively denying war material to the troops or as a
way of generally weakening the economy on which the military effort rested. 8
8. Forareexaminationofstrategic-bombingtheorybeforeandduringWorldWarII, inthelightofnuclear-ageconcepts,seeGeorgeH. Quester,DeterrencebeforeHiroshima (New York, John Wiley and Sons,1966). See also the first four chapters ofBemard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1959), pp. 3-146.
But as terrorism-as violence intended to coerce the enemy rather than to weaken him militarily-blockade and strategic bombing by themselves were not quite up to the job in either world war in Europe. (They might have been sufficient in the war with Japan after straightforward military action had brought American aircraft into range. ) Airplanes could not quite make punitive, coercive violence decisive in Europe, at least on a tolerable time schedule, and preclude the need to defeat or to destroy enemy forces as long as they had nothing but conven- tional explosives and incendiaries to carry. Hitler's V-1 buzz bombandhisV-2rocketarefairlypurecasesofweaponswhose purpose was to intimidate, to hurt Britain itself rather than Allied military forces. What the V-2 needed was a punitive payload worth carrying, and the Germans did not have it. Some of the expectations in the 1920s and the 1930s that another major war would be one of pure civilian violence, of shock and terror from the skies, were not borne out by the available technology. The threat of punitive violence kept occupied countries quiescent; but the wars were won in Europe on the basis of brute strength and skill and not by intimidation, not by the threat of civilian violence but by the application of military force. Military victory was still the price of admission. Latent violence against people was reserved for the politics of surren- der and occupation.
The great exception was the two atomic bombs on Japanese cities. These were weapons of terror and shock. They hurt, and promised more hurt, and that was their purpose. The few "small" weapons we had were undoubtedly of some direct military value, but their enormous advantage was in pure violence. In a military sense the United States could gain a little by destruction of two Japanese industrial cities; in a civilian sense, the Japanese could lose much. The bomb that hit Hiroshima was a threat aimed at all ofJapan. The political target of the bomb was not the dead of Hiroshima or the factories they worked in, but the survivors in Tokyo. The two bombs were in the tradition of Sheridan against the Comanches and Sherman in Georgia. Whether in the end those two bombs saved lives or
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when so much destructive energy can be packed in warheads at a price that permits advanced countries to have them in large numbers. Nuclear warheads are incomparably more devastat- ing than anything packaged before. What does that imply about war?
It is not true that for the first time in history man has the capability to destroy a large fraction, even the major part, of the human race. Japan was defenseless by August 1945. With a combination of bombing and blockade, eventually invasion, and if necessary the deliberate spread of disease, the United States could probably have exterminated the population of the Japanese islands without nuclear weapons. It would have been a gruesome, expensive, and mortifying campaign; it would have taken time and demanded persistence. But we had the economic and technical capacity to do it; and, together with the Russians or without them, we could have done the same in many pop- ulouspartsoftheworld. Againstdefenselesspeoplethereisnot much that nuclear weapons can do that cannot be done with an ice pick. And it would not have strained our Gross National Product to do it with ice picks.
It is a grisly thing to talk about. We did not do it and it is not imaginablethatwewouldhavedoneit. Wehadnoreason;ifwe had had a reason, we would not have the persistence of purpose, once the fury of war had been dissipated in victory and we had takenonthetaskofexecutioner. Ifweandourenemiesmightdo such a thing to each other now, and to others as well,
prove in practice-I admit I cannot prove it in theory-capable of giving complete immunity. IftwoPowersshowthemselvesequallycapableofinflictingdamageupon each other by some particular process of war, so that neither gains an advantage from its adoption and both suffer the most hideous reciprocal injuries, it is not only possible but it seems probable that neither will employ that means. " A fascinating reexamina- tion of concepts like deterrence, preemptive attack, counterforce and countercity warfare, retaliation, reprisal, and limited war, in the strategic literature of the air age from the turn of the century to the close of World War II, is in Quester's book, cited above.
wasted them, Japanese lives or American lives; whether puni- tive coercive violence is uglier than straightforward military force or more civilized; whether terror is more or less humane than military destruction; we can at least perceive that the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki represented violence against the country itself and not mainly an attack on Japan's material strength. The effect of the bombs, and their purpose, were not mainly the military destruction they accomplished but the pain and the shock and the promise of more.
The Nuclear Contribution to Terror and Violence
Man has, it is said, for the first time in history enough military power to eliminate his species from the earth, weapons against which there is no conceivable defense. War has become, it is said, so destructive and terrible that it ceases to be an instrument of national power. "For the first time in human history," says Max Lerner in a book whose title, The Age ofOverkill, conveys the point, "men have bottled up a power . . . which they have thus far not dared to use. " 9 And Soviet military authorities, whose party dislikes having to accommodate an entire theory of history to a single technological event, have had to reexamine a
set of principles that had been given the embarrassing name of "permanently operating factors" in warfare. Indeed, our era is epitomized by words like "the first time in human history," and by the abdication of what was "permanent. "
For dramatic impact these statements are splendid. Some of them display a tendency, not at all necessary, to belittle the catastropheofearlierwars. Theymayexaggeratethehistorical noveltyofdeterrenceandthebalanceofterror. 10 Moreimpor-
9. New York. Simon and Schuster, 1962, p. 47.
10. Winston Churchill is often credited with the term, "balance of terror," and the following quotation succinctly expresses the familiar notion of nuclear mutual deter- rence. This, though, is from a speech in Commons in November 1934. "The fact re- mains that when all is said and done as regards defensive methods, pending some new discovery the only direct measure of defense upon a great scale is the certainty of being able to inflict simultaneously upon the enemy as great damage as he can inflict upon ourselves. Do not let us undervalue the efficacy of this procedure. It may well
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it is not because nuclear weapons have for the first time made it feasible.
Nuclear weapons can do it quickly. That makes a difference. When the Crusaders breached the walls of Jerusalem they sacked the city while the mood was on them. They burned things that they might, with time to reflect, have carried away instead and raped women that, with time to think about it, they might have married instead. To compress a catastrophic war within the span of time that a man can stay awake drastically changesthepoliticsofwar,theprocessofdecision,thepossibil- ity of central control and restraint, the motivations of people in charge, and the capacity to think and reflect while war is in progress. It is imaginable that we might destroy 200,000,000 Russians in a war ofthe present, though not 80,000,000 Japa-
neseinawarofthepast. Itisnotonlyimaginable,itisimagined. It is imaginable because it could be done "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. "
This may be why there is so little discussion ofhow an all-out war might be brought to a close. People do not expect it to be "brought" to a close, but just to come to an end when everything has been spent. It is also why the idea of "limited war" has become so explicit in recent years. Earlier wars, like World Wars I and II or the Franco-Prussian War, were limited by termination, by an ending that occurred before the period of greatest potential violence, by negotiation that brought the threat of pain and privation to bear but often precluded the massive exercise of civilian violence. With nuclear weapons available, the restraint of violence cannot await the outcome of a contest of military strength; restraint, to occur at all, must
occur during war itself.
This is a difference between nuclear weapons and bayonets.
It is not in the number of people they can eventually kill but in the speed with which it can be done, in the centralization of decision, in the divorce of the war from political processes, and in computerized programs that threaten to take the war out of human hands once it begins.
That nuclear weapons make it possible to compress the fury
of global war into a few hours does not mean that they make it inevitable. Wehavestilltoaskwhetherthatisthewayamajor nuclear war would be fought, or ought to be fought. Neverthe- less, that the whole war might go off like one big string of firecrackers makes a critical difference between our conception of nuclear war and the world wars we have experienced.
There is no guarantee, of course, that a slower war would not persist. The First World War could have stopped at any time after the Battle of the Marne. There was plenty of time to think about war aims, to consult the long-range national interest, to reflect on costs and casualties already incurred and the prospect of more to come, and to discuss terms of cessation with the enemy. The gruesome business continued as mechanically as if it had been in the hands of computers (or worse: computers might have been programmed to learn more quickly from experience). One may even suppose it would have been a blessing had all the pain and shock of the four years been compressed within four days. Still, it was terminated. And the victors had no stomach for doing then with bayonets what nuclear weapons could do to the German people today.
Thereisanotherdifference. Inthepastithasusuallybeenthe victors who could do what they pleased to the enemy. War has often been "total war" for the loser.
With enough military force a country may not need to bargain. Some things a country wants it can take, and some things it has it can keep, by sheer strength, skill and ingenuity. It can do thisforcibly, accommodating only to opposing strength, skill, and ingenuity and without trying to appeal to an enemy's wishes. Forcibly a country can repel and expel, penetrate and occupy, seize, exterminate, disarm and disable, confine, deny access, and directly frustrate intrusion or attack. It can, that is, if it has enough strength. "Enough" depends on how much an opponent has.
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There is something else, though, that force can do. It is less military, less heroic, less impersonal, and less unilateral; it is uglier, and has received less attention in Western military strat- egy. In addition to seizing and holding, disarming and confin- ing, penetrating and obstructing, and all that, military force can be used to hurt. In addition to taking and protecting things of value it can destroy value. In addition to weakening an enemy militarily it can cause an enemy plain suffering.
Pain and shock, loss and grief, privation and horror are al- ways in some degree, sometimes in terrible degree, among the results ofwarfare; but in traditional military science they are in- cidental, they are not the object. I f violence can be done inci- dentally, though, it can also be done purposely. The power to hurt can be counted among the most impressive attributes of military force.
Hurting, unlike forcible seizure or self-defense, is not uncon- cerned with the interest of others. It is measured in the suffering it can cause and the victims' motivation to avoid it. Forcible ac- tion will work against weeds or floods as well as against armies, but suffering requires a victim that can feel pain or has some- thing to lose. To inflict suffering gains nothing and saves noth- ing directly; it can only make people behave to avoid it. The only purpose,unlesssportorrevenge,mustbetoinfluencesomebody's behavior, to coerce his decision or choice. To be coercive, violence has to be anticipated. And it has to be avoidable by accommodation. The power to hurt is bargaining power. To exploit it is diplomacy-vicious diplomacy, but diplomacy.
The Contrast of Brute Force with Coercion
There is a difference between taking what you want and making someone give it to you, between fending off assault and making someone afraid to assault you, between holding what people are trying to take and making them afraid to take it, between l? sing what someone can forcibly take and giving it up to avoid nsk or damage. It is the difference between defense and deter- rence, between brute force and intimidation, between conquest and blackmail, between action and threats. It is the difference
between the unilateral, "undiplomatic" recourse to strength, and coercive diplomacy based on the power to hurt.
The contrasts are several. The purely "military" or "undiplo- matic" recourse to forcible action is concerned with enemy strength, not enemy interests; the coercive use of the power to hurt, though, is the very exploitation of enemy wants and fears. And brute strength is usually measured relative to enemy strength, the one directly opposing the other, while the power to hurt is typically not reduced by the enemy's power to hurt in return. Opposing strengths may cancel each other, pain and grief do not. The willingness to hurt, the credibility of a threat, and the ability to exploit the power to hurt will indeed depend on how much the adversary can hurt in return; but there is little or nothing about an adversary's pain or grief that directly re- duces one's own. Two sides cannot both overcome each other with superior strength; they may both be able to hurt each other. With strength they can dispute objects of value; with sheer violence they can destroy them.
And brute force succeeds when it is used, whereas the power to hurt is most successful when held in reserve. It is the threat of damage, or of more damage to come, that can make someone yield or comply. It is latent violence that can influence some- one's choice-violence that can still be withheld or inflicted, or that a victim believes can be withheld or inflicted. The threat of pain tries to structure someone's motives, while brute force tries to overcome his strength. Unhappily, the power to hurt is often communicated by some performance of it. Whether it is sheer terroristic violence to induce an irrational response, or cool premeditated violence to persuade somebody that you mean it and may do it again~ it is not the pain and damage itself but its influence on somebody's behavior that matters. It is the expec- tation of more violence that gets the wanted behavior, if the power to hurt can get it at all.
To exploit a capacity for hurting and inflicting damage one needs to know what an adversary treasures and what scares him and one needs the adversary to understand what behavior ofhis will cause the violence to be inflicted and what will cause it to
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be withheld. The victim has to know what is wanted, and he may have to be assured of what is not wanted. The pain and suffering have to appear contingent on his behavior; it is not alone the threat that is effective-the threat ofpain or loss ifhe fails to comply-but the corresponding assurance, possibly an implicit one, that he can avoid the pain or loss if he does comply. The prospect of certain death may stun him, but it gives him no choice.
Coercionbythreatofdamagealsorequiresthatourinterestsand our opponent's not be absolutely opposed. If his pain were our greatest delight and our satisfaction his greatest woe, we would just proceed to hurt and to frustrate each other. It is when his pain gives us little or no satisfaction compared with what he can do for us, and the action or inaction that satisfies us costs him less than the pain we can cause, that there is room for coercion. Coercion requiresfindingabargain,arrangingforhimtobebetteroffdoing what we want-worse off not doing what we want-when he takes the threatened penalty into account.
It is this capacity for pure damage, pure violence, that is usu- ally associated with the most vicious labor disputes, with racial disorders, with civil uprisings and their suppression, with rack- eteering. It is also the power to hurt rather than brute force that we use in dealing with criminals; we hurt them afterward, or threaten to, for their misdeeds rather than protect ourselves with cordons of electric wires, masonry walls, and armed guards. Jail, of course, can be either forcible restraint or threat- ened privation; if the object is to keep criminals out of mischief by confinement, success is measured by how many of them are gotten behind bars, but if the object is to threaten privation, success will be measured by how few have to be put behind bars and success then depends on the subject's understanding of the consequences. Pure damage is what a car threatens when it tries to hog the road or to keep its rightful share, or to go first through an intersection. A tank or a bulldozer can force its way regardless of others' wishes; the rest of us have to threat- en damage, usually mutual damage, hoping the other driver values his car or his limbs enough to give way, hoping he
sees us, and hoping he is in control of his own car. The threat of pure damage will not work against an unmanned vehicle.
This difference between coercion and brute force is as often in the intent as in the instrument. To hunt down Comanches and to exterminate them was brute force; to raid their villages to make them behave was coercive diplomacy, based on the power to hurt. The pain and loss to the Indians might have looked much the same one way as the other; the difference was one of purpose and effect. If Indians were killed because they were in the way, or somebody wanted their land, or the authorities despaired of making them behave and could not confine them and decided to exterminate them, that was pure unilateral force. I f some Indians were killed to make other Indians behave, that was coercive violence-or intended to be, whether or not it was effective. The Germans at Verdun perceived themselves to be chewing up hundreds of thousands of French soldiers in a gruesome "meatgrinder. " If the purpose was to eliminate a military obstacle-the French infantryman, viewed as a mili- tary "asset" rather than as a warm human being-the offensive at Verdun was a unilateral exercise ofmilitary force. Ifinstead the object was to make the loss of young men-not of imper- sonal "effectives," but of sons, husbands, fathers, and the pride of French manhood-so anguishing as to be unendurable, to make surrender a welcome relief and to spoil the foretaste of an Allied victory, then it was an exercise in coercion, in applied violence, intended to offer relief upon accommodation. And of course, since any use of force tends to be brutal, thoughtless, vengeful, or plain obstinate, the motives themselves can be mixed and confused. The fact that heroism and brutality can be either coercive diplomacy or a contest in pure strength does not promise that the distinction will be made, and the strategies enlightened by the distinction, every time some vicious enter- prise gets launched.
The contrast between brute force and coercion is illustrated by two alternative strategies attributed to Genghis Khan. Early in his career he pursued the war creed of the Mongols: the van- quished can never be the friends of the victors, their death is
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necessary for the victor's safety. This was the unilateral exter- mination of a menace or a liability. The turning point of his career, according to Lynn Montross, came later when he dis- covered how to use his power to hurt for diplomatic ends. "The great Khan, who was not inhibited by the usual mercies, con- ceived the plan of forcing captives-women, children, aged fathers, favorite sons-to march ahead of his army as the first potential victims of resistance. "1 Live captives have often proved more valuable than enemy dead; and the technique dis- covered by the Khan in his maturity remains contemporary. North Koreans and Chinese were reported to have quartered prisoners of war near strategic targets to inhibit bombing at- tacks by United Nations aircraft. Hostages represent the power to hurt in its purest form.
Coercive Violence in Warfare
This distinction between the power to hurt and the power to seize or hold forcibly is important in modern war, both big war and little war, hypothetical war and real war. For many years the Greeks and the Turks on Cyprus could hurt each other in- definitely but neither could quite take or hold forcibly what they wanted or protect themselves from violence by physical means. The Jews in Palestine could not expel the British in the late 1940s but they could cause pain and fear and frustration through terrorism, and eventually influence somebody's deci- sion. The brutal war in Algeria was more a contest in pure violence than in military strength; the question was who would first find the pain and degradation unendurable. The French troops preferred-indeed they continually tried-to make it a contest of strength, to pit military force against the nationalists' capacity for terror, to exterminate or disable the nationalists and to screen off the nationalists from the victims of their vio- lence. But because in civil war terrorists commonly have access
to victims by sheer physical propinquity, the victims and their properties could not be forcibly defended and in the end the
1. Lynn Montross. War Through the Ages (3d ed. New York, Harper and Brothers, 1960), p. 146.
French troops themselves resorted, unsuccessfully, to a war of pain.
Nobody believes that the Russians can take Hawaii from us, or New York, or Chicago, but nobody doubts that they might destroy people and buildings in Hawaii, Chicago, or New York. Whether the Russians can conquer West Germany in any mean- ingful sense is questionable; whether they can hurt it terribly is not doubted. That the United States can destroy a large part of Russia is universally taken for granted; that the United States can keep from being badly hurt, even devastated, in return, or can keep Western Europe from being devastated while itselfde- stroying Russia, is at best arguable; and it is virtually out of the question that we could conquer Russia territorially and use its economic assets unless it were by threatening disaster and in- ducing compliance. It is the power to hurt, not military strength in the traditional sense, that inheres in our most impressive mili- tary capabilities at the present time. We have a Department of Defense but emphasize retaliation-"to return evil for evil" (synonyms: requital, reprisal, revenge, vengeance, retribution). And it is pain and violence, not force in the traditional sense, that inheres also in some of the least impressive military capa- bilities of the present time-the plastic bomb, the terrorist's bullet, the burnt crops, and the tortured farmer.
W ar appears to be, or threatens to be, not so much a contest of strength as one of endurance, nerve, obstinacy, and pain. It appears to be, and threatens to be, not so much a contest of military strength as a bargaining process--dirty, extortionate, and often quite reluctant bargaining on one side or both- nevertheless a bargaining process.
The difference cannot quite be expressed as one between the use of force and the threat of force. The actions involved in forcible accomplishment, on the one hand, and in fulfilling a threat, on the other, can be quite different. Sometimes the most effective direct action inflicts enough cost or pain on the ene- my to serve as a threat, sometimes not. The United States threat- ens the Soviet Union with virtual destruction ofits society in the event of a surprise attack on the United States; a hundred mil-
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lion deaths are awesome as pure damage, but they are useless in stopping the Soviet attack-especially if the threat is to do it all afterward anyway. So it is worthwhile to keep the concepts distinct-to distinguish forcible action from the threat of pain -recognizing that some actions serve as both a means offorci- ble accomplishment and a means of inflicting pure damage, some do not. Hostages tend to entail almost pure pain and damage,asdoallformsofreprisalafterthefact. Somemodesof self-defense may exact so little in blood or treasure as to entail negligible violence; and some forcible actions entail so much violence that their threat can be effective by itself.
The power to hurt, though it can usually accomplish nothing directly, is potentially more versatile than a straightforward capacity for forcible accomplishment. By force alone we can- not even lead a horse to water-we have to drag him-much less make him drink. Any affirmative action, any collabora- tion, almost anything but physical exclusion, expulsion, or ex- termination, requires that an opponent or a victim do some- thing, even if only to stop or get out. The threat of pain and damage may make him want to do it, and anything he can do is potentially susceptible to inducement. Brute force can only accomplish what requires no collaboration. The principle is illustrated by a technique of unarmed combat: one can disable a man by various stunning, fracturing, or killing blows, but to
take him to jail one has to exploit the man's own efforts. "Come-along" holds are those that threaten pain or disable- ment, giving relief as long as the victim complies, giving him the option of using his own legs to get to jail.
We have to keep in mind, though, that what is pure pain, or the threat of it, at one level of decision can be equivalent to brute force at another level. Churchill was worried, during the early bombing raids on London in 1940, that Londoners might panic. Against people the bombs were pure violence, to induce their undisciplined evasion; to Churchill and the government, the bombs were a cause of inefficiency, whether they spoiled trans- port and made people late to work or scared people and made them afraid to work. Churchill's decisions were not going
to be coerced by the fear of a few casualties. Similarly on the battlefield: tactics that frighten soldiers so that they run, duck their heads, or lay down their arms and surrender represent coercion based on the power to hurt; to the top command, which is frustrated but not coerced, such tactics are part of the contest in military discipline and strength.
The fact that violence-pure pain and damage-can be used or threatened to coerce and to deter, to intimidate and to blackmail, to demoralize and to paralyze, in a conscious process of dirty bargaining, does not by any means imply that violence is not often wanton and meaningless or, even when purposive, in danger of getting out of hand. Ancient wars were often quite "total" for the loser, the men being put to death, the women sold as slaves, the boys castrated, the cattle slaugh- tered, and the buildings leveled, for the sake of revenge,
justice, personal gain, or merely custom. I f an enemy bombs a city, by design or by carelessness, we usually bomb his if we can. In the excitement and fatigue of warfare, revenge is one of the few satisfactions that can be savored; and justice can often be construed to demand the enemy's punishment, even if it is delivered with more enthusiasm than justice requires. When Jerusalem fell to the Crusaders in 1099 the ensuing slaughter was one of the bloodiest in military chronicles. "The men of the West literally waded in gore, their march to the church of the Holy Sepulcher being gruesomely likened to 'treading out the wine press' . . . ," reports Montross (p. 138), who observes that these excesses usually came at the climax of the capture of a fortified post or city. "For long the assailants have endured more punishment than they were able to inflict; then once the walls are breached, pent up emotions find an outlet in murder, rape and plunder, which discipline is powerless to prevent. " The same occurred when Tyre fell to Alexander after a painful siege, and the phenomenon was not unknown on Pacific islands in the Second World War. Pure violence, like fire, can be harnessed to a purpose; that does not mean that behind every holocaust is a shrewd intention successfully fulfilled.
But if the occurrence of violence does not always bespeak a
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shrewd purpose, the absence of pain and destruction is no sign that violence was idle. Violence is most purposive and most successful when it is threatened and not used. Successful threats are those that do not have to be carried out. By European standards, Denmark was virtually unharmed in the Second World War; it was violence that made the Danes submit. Withheld violence-successfully threatened violence--can look clean, even merciful. The fact that a kidnap victim is returned unharmed, against receipt of ample ransom, does not make kidnapping a nonviolent enterprise. The American vic- tory at Mexico City in 1847 was a great success; with a minimum ofbrutality we traded a capital city for everything we wanted from the war. We did not even have to say what we could do to Mexico City to make the Mexican government understand what they had at stake. (They had undoubtedly got the message a month earlier, when Vera Cruz was being pounded into submission. After forty-eight hours of shellfire,
the foreign consuls in that city approached General Scott's headquarters to ask for a truce so that women, children, and neutrals could evacuate the city. General Scott, "counting on such internal pressure to help bring about the city's surrender," refused their request and added that anyone, soldier or noncom- batant, who attempted to leave the city would be fired upon. ) 2
Whether spoken or not, the threat is usually there. In earlier eras the etiquette was more permissive. When the Persians wanted to induce some Ionian cities to surrender and join them, without having to fight them, they instructed their ambassadors to
make your proposals to them and promise that, if they aban- don their allies, there will be no disagreeable consequences
2. Otis A. Singletary, The Mexican War (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1960), pp. 75-76. In a similar episode the Gauls, defending the town of Alesia in 52 B. C. , "decided to send out of the town those whom age or infirmity incapacitated for fighting. . . . They came up to the Roman fortifications and with tears besought the soldiers to take them as slaves and relieve their hunger. But Caesar posted guards on the ramparts with orders to refuse them admission. " Caesar, The Conquest ofGaul, s. A. Handford, transL (Baltimore, Penguin Books, 1951), p. 227.
for them; we will not set fire to their houses or temples, or threaten them with any greater harshness than before this trouble oc- curred. If, however, they refuse, and insist upon fighting, then you must resort to threats, and say exactly what we will do to them; tell them, that is, that when they are beaten they will be sold as slaves, their boys will be made eunuchs, their girls carried off to Bactria, and their land confiscated. 3
It sounds like Hitler talking to Schuschnigg. "I only need to give an order, and overnight all the ridiculous scarecrows on the frontier will vanish . . . Then you will really experience something. . . . After the troops will follow the S. A. and the Legion. No one will be able to hinder the vengeance, not even myself. "
Or Henry V before the gates of Harfleur:
W e may as bootless spend our vain command Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil
As send precepts to the leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people, Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 0 ' erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Y our fathers t~en by the silver beard,
And their most reverent heads dash'd to the walls, Y our naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds . . .
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid,
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
(Act III, Scene iii)
3. Herodotus, The Histories, Aubrey de Selincourt, trans! . (Baltimore, Penguin Books, 1954), p. 362.
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ARMS AND INFLUENCE The Strategic Role of Pain and Damage
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not give in. . . . He sent some of the prisoners into the hills and told them to say that if the inhabitants did not come down and settle in their houses to submit to him, he would bum up their villages too and destroy their crops, and they would die of hunger. 4
Military victory was but the price ofadmission. The payoffde- pended upon the successful threat of violence.
Like the Persian leader, the Russians crushed Budapest in 1956andcowedPolandandotherneighboringcountries. There was a lag of ten years between military victory and this show of violence, but the principle was the one explained by Xenophon. Military victory is often the prelude to violence, not the end of it, and the fact that successful violence is usually held in reserve should not deceive us about the role it plays.
What about pure violence during war itself, the infliction of pain and suffering as a military technique? Is the threat of pain involved only in the political use of victory, or is it a decisive technique of war itself?
Evidently between unequal powers it has been part of war- fare. Colonial conquest has often been a matter of "punitive ex- peditions" rather than genuine military engagements. If the tribesmen escape into the bush you can bum their villages with- out them until they assent to receive what, in strikingly modem language, used to be known as the Queen's "protection. " British air power was used punitively against Arabian tribes- men in the 1920s and 30s to coerce them into submission. 5
4. Xenophon, The Persian Expedition, Rex Warner, trans\. (Baltimore, Penguin Books, 1949), p. 272. "The 'rational' goal of the threat of vio- lence," says H. L. Nieburg, "is an accommodation of interests, not the provocation of actual violence. Similarly the 'rational' goal of actual violence is demonstration of the will and capability of action, establishing a measure of the credibility of future threats, not the exhaustion of that capability in unlimited conflict. " "Uses of Violence," Journal of Conflict Resolution, 7 (1963), 44.
5. A perceptive, thoughtful account of this tactic, and one that empha- sizes its "diplomatic" character, is in the lecture of Air Chief Marshal Lord Portal, "Air Force Cooperation in Policing the Empire. " "The
Pure violence, nonmilitary violence, appears most conspicu- ously in relations between unequal countries, where t~e:eis no substantial military challenge and the outcome of mllttary engagement is not in question. Hitler could make his threats contemptuously and brutally against Austria; he could make them, ifhe wished, in a more refined way against Denmark. It is noteworthy that it was Hitler, not his generals, who used this kind of language; proud military establishments do not like to think of themselves as extortionists. Their favorite job is to deliver victory, to dispose of opposing military force and to leave most of the civilian violence to politics and diplomacy.
But if there is no room for doubt how a contest in strength will come out, it may be possible to bypass the military stage altogether and to proceed at once to the coercive bargaining.
A typical confrontation of unequal forces occurs at the end of a war, between victor and vanquished. Where Austria was vulnerable before a shot was fired, France was vulnerable after its military shield had collapsed in 1940. Surrender negotiations are the place where the threat of civil violence can come to the fore. Surrender negotiations are often so one- sided, or the potential violence so unmistakable, that bargain- ing succeeds and the violence remains in reserve. But the fact
that most of the actual damage was done during the military stage of the war, prior to victory and defeat, does not mean that violence was idle in the aftermath, only that it was latent and the threat of it successful.
Indeed, victory is often but a prerequisite to the exploitation of the power to hurt. When Xenophon was fighting in Asia Minor under Persian leadership, it took military strength to disperse enemy soldiers and occupy their lands; but land was not what the victor wanted, nor was victory for its own sake.
Next day the Persian leader burned the villages to the ground, not leaving a single house standing, so as to strike terror into the other tribes to show them what would happen if they did
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If enemy forces are not strong enough to oppose, or are unwilling to engage, there is no need to achieve victory as a prerequisite to getting on with a display of coercive violence. When Caesar was pacifying the tribes of Gaul he sometimes had to fight his way through their armed men in order to subdue them with a display of punitive violence, but sometimes he was virtually unopposed and could proceed straight to the punitive display. To his legions there was more valor in fighting their way to the seat of power; but, as governor of Gaul, Caesar could view enemy troops only as an obstacle to his political control, and that control was usually based on the power to inflict pain, grief, and privation. In fact, he preferred to keep several hundred hostages from the unreliable tribes, so that his threat of
violence did not even depend on an expedition into the country- side.
Pure hurting, as a military tactic, appeared in some of the military actions against the plains Indians. In 1868, during the war with the Cheyennes, General Sheridan decided that his best hope was to attack the Indians in their winter camps. His reasoning was that the Indians could maraud as they pleased during the seasons when their ponies could subsist on grass, and in winter hide away in remote places. "To disabuse their minds from the idea that they were secure from punishment, and to
strike at a period when they were helpless to move their stock and villages, a winter campaign was projected against the large bands hiding away in the Indian territory. " 6
These were not military engagements; they were punitive attacks on people. They were an effort to subdue by the use of violence, without a futile attempt to draw the enemy's military forces into decisive battle. They were "massive retaliation" on a
law-breaking tribe must be given an alternative to being bombed and . . . be told in the clearest possible terms what that alternative is. " And, "It would be the greatest mistake to believe that a victory which spares the lives and feelings of the losers need be any less permanent or salutary than one which inflicts heavy losses on the fighting men and results in a 'peace' dictated on a stricken field. " Journal ofthe Royal United Services Institution (London, May 1937), pp. 343-58.
6. Paul 1. Wellman, Death on the Prairie (New York, Macmillan, 1934), p. 82.
diminutive scale, with local effects not unlike those of Hiroshima. The Indians themselves totally lacked organization and discipline, and typically could not afford enough ammuni- tion for target practice and were no military match for the cavalry; their own rudimentary strategy was at best one of harassment and reprisal. Half a century ofIndian fighting in the West left us a legacy of cavalry tactics; but it is hard to find a serious treatise on American strategy against the Indians or Indian strategy against the whites. The twentieth is not the first centuryinwhich"retaliation"hasbeenpartofourstrategy,but it is the first in which we have systematically recognized it.
Hurting, as a strategy, showed up in the American Civil War, but as an episode, not as the central strategy. For the most part, the Civil War was a military engagement with each side's military force pitted against the other's. The Confederate forces hoped to lay waste enough Union territory to negotiate their independence, but hadn't enough capacity for such violence to make it work. The Union forces were intent on military victory, and it was mainly General Sherman's march through Georgia that showed a conscious and articulate use of violence. "If the people raise a howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war . . . I f they want peace, they and their relatives must stop the war," Sherman wrote. And one of his associates said, "Sherman is perfectly right . . . The only possible way to end this unhappy and dreadful conflict . . . is to make it terrible beyond endurance. " 7
Making it "terrible beyond endurance" is what we associate with Algeria and Palestine, the crushing of Budapest and the tribal warfare in Central Africa. Butin the great wars of the last hundred years it was usually military victory, not the hurting of the people, that was decisive; General Sherman's attempt to make war hell for the Southern people did not come to
7. J. F. C. Fuller reproduces some of this correspondence and remarks, "For the nineteenth century this was a new conception, because it meant that the deciding factor in the war-the powerto sue for peace-was transferred from government to people, and that peacemaking was a product of revolution. This was to carry the principle of democracy to its ultimate stage. . . . " The Conduct ofWar: 1789-1961 (New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1961), pp. 107-12.
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epitomize military strategy for the century to follow. To seek out and to destroy the enemy's military force, to achieve a crushing victory over enemy armies, was still the avowed pur- pose and the central aim of American strategy in both world wars. Military action was seen as an alternative to bargaining, not a process of bargaining.
The reason is not that civilized countries are so averse to hurting people that they prefer "purely military" wars. (Nor were all ofthe participants in these wars entirely civilized. ) The reason is apparently that the technology and geography of war- fare, at least for a war between anything like equal powers dur- ing the century ending in World War II, kept coercive violence from being decisive before military victory was achieved. Blockade indeed was aimed at the whole enemy nation, not concentrated on its military forces; the German civilians who died of influenza in the First World War were victims of violence directed at the whole country. It has never been quite clearwhetherblockade-oftheSouthintheCivilWarorofthe
Central Powers in both world wars, or submarine warfare against Britain-was expected to make war unendurable for the people orjust to weaken the enemy forces by denying economic support. Both arguments were made, but there was no need to be clear about the purpose as long as either purpose was regarded as legitimate and either might be served. "Strategic bombing" ofenemy homelands was also occasionally rational- ized in terms of the pain and privation it could inflict on people and the civil damage it could do to the nation, as an effort to display either to the population or to the enemy leadership that surrenderwasbetterthanpersistenceinviewofthedamagethat could be done. It was also rationalized in more "military" terms, as a way of selectively denying war material to the troops or as a
way of generally weakening the economy on which the military effort rested. 8
8. Forareexaminationofstrategic-bombingtheorybeforeandduringWorldWarII, inthelightofnuclear-ageconcepts,seeGeorgeH. Quester,DeterrencebeforeHiroshima (New York, John Wiley and Sons,1966). See also the first four chapters ofBemard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1959), pp. 3-146.
But as terrorism-as violence intended to coerce the enemy rather than to weaken him militarily-blockade and strategic bombing by themselves were not quite up to the job in either world war in Europe. (They might have been sufficient in the war with Japan after straightforward military action had brought American aircraft into range. ) Airplanes could not quite make punitive, coercive violence decisive in Europe, at least on a tolerable time schedule, and preclude the need to defeat or to destroy enemy forces as long as they had nothing but conven- tional explosives and incendiaries to carry. Hitler's V-1 buzz bombandhisV-2rocketarefairlypurecasesofweaponswhose purpose was to intimidate, to hurt Britain itself rather than Allied military forces. What the V-2 needed was a punitive payload worth carrying, and the Germans did not have it. Some of the expectations in the 1920s and the 1930s that another major war would be one of pure civilian violence, of shock and terror from the skies, were not borne out by the available technology. The threat of punitive violence kept occupied countries quiescent; but the wars were won in Europe on the basis of brute strength and skill and not by intimidation, not by the threat of civilian violence but by the application of military force. Military victory was still the price of admission. Latent violence against people was reserved for the politics of surren- der and occupation.
The great exception was the two atomic bombs on Japanese cities. These were weapons of terror and shock. They hurt, and promised more hurt, and that was their purpose. The few "small" weapons we had were undoubtedly of some direct military value, but their enormous advantage was in pure violence. In a military sense the United States could gain a little by destruction of two Japanese industrial cities; in a civilian sense, the Japanese could lose much. The bomb that hit Hiroshima was a threat aimed at all ofJapan. The political target of the bomb was not the dead of Hiroshima or the factories they worked in, but the survivors in Tokyo. The two bombs were in the tradition of Sheridan against the Comanches and Sherman in Georgia. Whether in the end those two bombs saved lives or
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ARMS AND INFLUENCE
THE DIPLOMACY OF ViOLENCE 19 tant, they do not help to identify just what is new about war
when so much destructive energy can be packed in warheads at a price that permits advanced countries to have them in large numbers. Nuclear warheads are incomparably more devastat- ing than anything packaged before. What does that imply about war?
It is not true that for the first time in history man has the capability to destroy a large fraction, even the major part, of the human race. Japan was defenseless by August 1945. With a combination of bombing and blockade, eventually invasion, and if necessary the deliberate spread of disease, the United States could probably have exterminated the population of the Japanese islands without nuclear weapons. It would have been a gruesome, expensive, and mortifying campaign; it would have taken time and demanded persistence. But we had the economic and technical capacity to do it; and, together with the Russians or without them, we could have done the same in many pop- ulouspartsoftheworld. Againstdefenselesspeoplethereisnot much that nuclear weapons can do that cannot be done with an ice pick. And it would not have strained our Gross National Product to do it with ice picks.
It is a grisly thing to talk about. We did not do it and it is not imaginablethatwewouldhavedoneit. Wehadnoreason;ifwe had had a reason, we would not have the persistence of purpose, once the fury of war had been dissipated in victory and we had takenonthetaskofexecutioner. Ifweandourenemiesmightdo such a thing to each other now, and to others as well,
prove in practice-I admit I cannot prove it in theory-capable of giving complete immunity. IftwoPowersshowthemselvesequallycapableofinflictingdamageupon each other by some particular process of war, so that neither gains an advantage from its adoption and both suffer the most hideous reciprocal injuries, it is not only possible but it seems probable that neither will employ that means. " A fascinating reexamina- tion of concepts like deterrence, preemptive attack, counterforce and countercity warfare, retaliation, reprisal, and limited war, in the strategic literature of the air age from the turn of the century to the close of World War II, is in Quester's book, cited above.
wasted them, Japanese lives or American lives; whether puni- tive coercive violence is uglier than straightforward military force or more civilized; whether terror is more or less humane than military destruction; we can at least perceive that the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki represented violence against the country itself and not mainly an attack on Japan's material strength. The effect of the bombs, and their purpose, were not mainly the military destruction they accomplished but the pain and the shock and the promise of more.
The Nuclear Contribution to Terror and Violence
Man has, it is said, for the first time in history enough military power to eliminate his species from the earth, weapons against which there is no conceivable defense. War has become, it is said, so destructive and terrible that it ceases to be an instrument of national power. "For the first time in human history," says Max Lerner in a book whose title, The Age ofOverkill, conveys the point, "men have bottled up a power . . . which they have thus far not dared to use. " 9 And Soviet military authorities, whose party dislikes having to accommodate an entire theory of history to a single technological event, have had to reexamine a
set of principles that had been given the embarrassing name of "permanently operating factors" in warfare. Indeed, our era is epitomized by words like "the first time in human history," and by the abdication of what was "permanent. "
For dramatic impact these statements are splendid. Some of them display a tendency, not at all necessary, to belittle the catastropheofearlierwars. Theymayexaggeratethehistorical noveltyofdeterrenceandthebalanceofterror. 10 Moreimpor-
9. New York. Simon and Schuster, 1962, p. 47.
10. Winston Churchill is often credited with the term, "balance of terror," and the following quotation succinctly expresses the familiar notion of nuclear mutual deter- rence. This, though, is from a speech in Commons in November 1934. "The fact re- mains that when all is said and done as regards defensive methods, pending some new discovery the only direct measure of defense upon a great scale is the certainty of being able to inflict simultaneously upon the enemy as great damage as he can inflict upon ourselves. Do not let us undervalue the efficacy of this procedure. It may well
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THEDIPLOMACYOFVIOLENCE 21
it is not because nuclear weapons have for the first time made it feasible.
Nuclear weapons can do it quickly. That makes a difference. When the Crusaders breached the walls of Jerusalem they sacked the city while the mood was on them. They burned things that they might, with time to reflect, have carried away instead and raped women that, with time to think about it, they might have married instead. To compress a catastrophic war within the span of time that a man can stay awake drastically changesthepoliticsofwar,theprocessofdecision,thepossibil- ity of central control and restraint, the motivations of people in charge, and the capacity to think and reflect while war is in progress. It is imaginable that we might destroy 200,000,000 Russians in a war ofthe present, though not 80,000,000 Japa-
neseinawarofthepast. Itisnotonlyimaginable,itisimagined. It is imaginable because it could be done "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. "
This may be why there is so little discussion ofhow an all-out war might be brought to a close. People do not expect it to be "brought" to a close, but just to come to an end when everything has been spent. It is also why the idea of "limited war" has become so explicit in recent years. Earlier wars, like World Wars I and II or the Franco-Prussian War, were limited by termination, by an ending that occurred before the period of greatest potential violence, by negotiation that brought the threat of pain and privation to bear but often precluded the massive exercise of civilian violence. With nuclear weapons available, the restraint of violence cannot await the outcome of a contest of military strength; restraint, to occur at all, must
occur during war itself.
This is a difference between nuclear weapons and bayonets.
It is not in the number of people they can eventually kill but in the speed with which it can be done, in the centralization of decision, in the divorce of the war from political processes, and in computerized programs that threaten to take the war out of human hands once it begins.
That nuclear weapons make it possible to compress the fury
of global war into a few hours does not mean that they make it inevitable. Wehavestilltoaskwhetherthatisthewayamajor nuclear war would be fought, or ought to be fought. Neverthe- less, that the whole war might go off like one big string of firecrackers makes a critical difference between our conception of nuclear war and the world wars we have experienced.
There is no guarantee, of course, that a slower war would not persist. The First World War could have stopped at any time after the Battle of the Marne. There was plenty of time to think about war aims, to consult the long-range national interest, to reflect on costs and casualties already incurred and the prospect of more to come, and to discuss terms of cessation with the enemy. The gruesome business continued as mechanically as if it had been in the hands of computers (or worse: computers might have been programmed to learn more quickly from experience). One may even suppose it would have been a blessing had all the pain and shock of the four years been compressed within four days. Still, it was terminated. And the victors had no stomach for doing then with bayonets what nuclear weapons could do to the German people today.
Thereisanotherdifference. Inthepastithasusuallybeenthe victors who could do what they pleased to the enemy. War has often been "total war" for the loser.
