I approached Margaret
MacMillan’s book War: How Conflict Shaped
Us, Allen Lane, 2020, with
mixed feelings. I had read MacMillan’s Paris
1919. That was not
impressive scholarship like Tony Judt’s
Postwar that drew on East
European documentation to re-write recent
European history. It was not a new world
history like Peter Frankopan’s Silk Roads
that put the Middle East at
the centre of world politics. Yet MacMillan’s
Paris 2019 was a useful
book because it detailed peace negotiations in
2019 that established the
political face of the world at the end of
Russian, Austrian, and Ottoman empires.
And it was readable. So how was War? The book War
was well received. It was at the top of the
New York Times best-seller list with
Obama’s autobiography in December. It seems to
relate to MacMillan’s BBC Reith
Lectures in 2018. And as one reviewer said, it
is: “An insightful and
disturbing study of war as an aspect of
culture.” Her position is disturbing, but
her book is readable. The book says in its
introduction, along the way, and in its
conclusion that we should think about
war because war matters. But MacMillan then
treats war as just something that
is there with a history. Each chapter looks at
a facet of war in the form of a
readable assembly of little accounts on that
facet from the span of world
history. There are some insights along the
way. At the end of the chapter
“ways and means,” meaning weapons, and again
in her conclusion, MacMillan notes
that given the increasingly destructive power
of weaponry the need to prevent
the destruction of the whole human enterprise
matters and so war matters. I
agree with that take, but I would have said:
so peace-making matters. I would
have welcomed thoughts on what might be tried
to better limit wars and prevent
the use of some kinds of weapons. Instead,
MacMillan’s chapter on efforts to
limit war lists the history of attempts and
failures, leaving the message that,
despite agreements to limit war or weaponry,
if humans have weapons they use
them. (This is not a new message.) She
maintains war is an ongoing part of
human expectations. For me there is a big
change when you have a new kind of “warrior” -
peace-making forces authorized
by the UN to participate in circumscribed ways
in conflict zones and working in
contact with the various combatting forces and
with UN negotiators trying to
build a peace. MacMillan does not notice this
big development since WWII. She
makes only passing reference to
peace-building. True, current UN peacemaking
may be a weak beginning, but it is something
very different from the age-old
story of countries or tribal groups going to
war that MacMillan describes. MacMillan seems not to
notice that the use of poison gases has been
limited. Landmines have been limited
because they are problematic – they stay
around to afflict returning farmers
when war finally moves away. And the role of
the International Committee of the
Red Cross (ICRC) is understated. For prisoners
of war, the wounded, and contact
with their families the ICRC works. It works
because of its impartiality and
because all sides have an interest in making
it work for their own fighters. It would be more useful
to point out the extent of the success of
efforts to make peace and to ban
weapons and to suggest ways to even more
successes. Without the underfunded UN
peace-making forces in armed conflict zones
around the world things would be
much worse. This vital new activity of our
time deserves to be more than a note
in passing in a history dominated by tales
from ancient and European wars. Here is a slightly fuller
look at the book. MacMillan’s introduction
ends with the paradoxes of war that succeeding
chapters will develop: “We fear
war but are also fascinated by it.” “... we
can also admire the courage of the
soldier and feel the dangerous power of war’s
glamour.” War gives license to
kill and yet it calls out altruism. There is
also a long tradition of seeing
war as evil and productive of misery. The
human species is “doomed to play out
our fate in violence to the end of history.” The first chapter
introduces an even-handed approach. For
humanity and society, is war and
violence on the decline as some claim to show
from data on the numbers of war
dead and the like? Maybe and maybe not says
MacMillan. Are we like the patriarchal
warlike chimpanzees or peaceable matriarchal
bonobos? Our DNA is very close to
both these species she notes. Did human
society corrupt naturally good humans
as philosopher Rousseau contended? Or are
humans basically brutish and in need
of a powerful state to control violence at
least within their societies as
Hobbes argued?
She points out that war
has been a long-standing part of human
experience. War is organized
violence; it is not some brawl in a bar. So a
strong state is needed to
organize war – to build and maintain a naval
boat and train and maintain a
crew, or to organize the feeding of a Roman
army marching on Hannibal. War
helps bring out such societal organization and
inventiveness. War is tied to
money, taxes and, later on, to creating banks.
And war became tied to better
railways, better nutrition and better
education – even tied to ending Russian
serfdom. So parts of human societies have
evolved alongside war. There is a chapter on
causes of war. Some of the seemingly absurd
reasons for war – a sea captain loses
an ear – hide deeper issues. MacMillan
suggests that in this case, on the
surface, it was the traditional issue of
honour. But looking deeper MacMillan
says England went to war with Spain for a
share of the trade in the West Indies
– including the slave trade. Also, given the
family links between royalty in medieval
Europe, wars about succession arose easily
from the many who could consider
themselves a successor when there was no male
offspring or when such an heir
died. Protecting co-religionists was a
convenient excuse for war in Europe that
was also based on wider political
considerations. At the end of the 19th
century the US annexed parts of Mexico for
trade and for security reasons. Among the many reasons
for war, greed, self-defence, emotions and
ideology recur. The Mogul horsemen
wanted loot. The Spanish searched for gold in
the Americas. Saddam Hussain
wanted oil in Kuwait. Honour and glory can
matter – and they did for Alexander
of Greece and Louis IV of France. Some wars
were motivated by more than loot and
land – the Crusaders were waging a holy war to
restore Jerusalem to the
Christian fold. The Thirty Years War between
European Catholics and Protestants
was fought for God by both sides. And the wars
after the French revolution were
fought for an “earthly salvation.” Civil wars are
particularly messy in their aftermath – the
fighting factions remain in the
same polity when war stops. The US war of
independence was particularly bloody.
Often decisions in war are dominated by
fighters worried about winning battles
when what happens next politically should be
considered important too. The chapter on ways and
means of war reminds us about the cultures
behind fighters – the discipline and
bravery and willingness to die. The cultures
are often supported by women in
the society. Classical Rome venerated war as
the many monuments celebrating
victories attest. Prussia has been described
as an army that had a country! How countries think about
war depends on their situation. Islands like
Britain think about war as
requiring a navy. With coasts running along
two oceans, the US has also considered
a navy a necessity. Countries with multiple
land borders like Germany or Israel
think about handling two-front land warfare
and related short range air forces.
And over the years there have been mixes of
walls and bribes to stave off
hostile outsiders in Roman England, China,
Switzerland and France after World
War I. There have been changing
roles for weapons of war. There have been
chariots, then teams of highly
organized foot-soldiers. Knights in armour
played a key role until Welsh longbowmen
could mow them down. Some form of cavalry
lasted until WWI. The basic weapons
remained the same up to the Middle Ages:
armour, swords, spears bows &
arrows. The major shifts before 1800 were from
stone to bronze, then to iron
and to the domestication of the horse. The
invention of the wheeled chariot was
followed later by the knight-enabling
invention of the stirrup. Then came the
canons and guns – and a series of steady
improvements. Finally, the theory of
splitting the atom was tested in war in the
form of a bomb – and the nuclear
weapon era began. MacMillan gives accounts
of roles of various weapons and defences in
historic battles and the use of
training, of discipline and drill. The value
of thin-walled castles changed
with the arrival of the gun. But when new
developments like guns or metal steam
boats came there was sometimes reluctance to
use them – sometimes at a cost.
The Chinese invented gunpowder, but the
Europeans developed guns. The Japanese
were introduced to guns, then failed to use
them for a time. North American
Indigenous Peoples took to guns and horses
easily and rapidly. MacMillan ends
this chapter noting the weaponry available now
is enough to destroy humanity
several times over, that disarmament measures
remain distant and yet many talk
of war as reasonable and manageable. She does
not develop this thought. The chapter on modern war
tells of a shift that occurred following the
French Revolution when the notion
of a nation took hold and the wider population
fought for their rights,
freedoms and homes. It was no longer the
King’s war with his paid army of
hirelings fighting. National mobilization and
organization to support the war
arrived, with the people becoming the army and
the non-fighters becoming
supporters for that army – farmers,
manufacturers and supply lines. MacMillan takes a look at
militarism, about public pressure for military
action and about the military
using public opinion to gain financial support
or just to promote the nobility
of fighting for one’s country. There has been
outreach among boys by military
parades or comic books to develop such
thoughts. The fear that societies could not
support a prolonged war turned out to be false
in WWI and WWII. So did the hope
that war would resolve political issues. And
the casualty numbers from the
Napoleonic wars to the end of WWII in 1945 are
chilling. The fifth chapter, a
large one, is about the making of the warrior.
It describes the 1461 English
“War of the Roses” civil war battle at Towton
near York. Some 50,000 archers
foot soldiers and knights fought all day
facing each other and death hour after
hour with arrows and hand to hand combat. When
Yorkist re-enforcements arrived
late in the day and panic set in many were cut
down on Bloody Meadow and the
rivers ran red from the estimated 28,000 dead.
The chapter then describes the
1862 US civil war battle of Antietam Creek,
Maryland. There were eye witnesses.
Union soldiers pushed forward almost
hysterically with excitement and
eagerness. At the end of the day, each side
had around 2,000 dead and 10,000
wounded. This war lasted another 2 1/2 years.
The war in England had lasted 24
years more! What makes them fight?
MacMillan says we both admire and fear the
brave warriors. The reasons for
fighting are like those of nations – but more:
no choice; for nation or family;
for honour; for fear of officers; to win
approval; to show off; to test themselves;
to rape, pillage loot; for glory; for a cause;
for comrades; and to get ahead
in the world. Subjects of powerful states were
expected to fight. Slaves were
made to fight. Before modern times, the dregs
or society were taken to fight –
as for example Falstaff’s unit for Prince Hal
in Shakespeare’s Henry V.
MacMillan has anecdotes about all of these. MacMillan notes that there
have been women warriors, and she explores
examples from early to modern times.
But wars tend to be associated with
masculinity. Boys are told to be men with
qualities associated with warriors – and given
toy weapons, uniforms and war
games. Some women oppose war but some urge the
men on to embrace bravery and to
fear cowardice. And training and discipline
convert ordinary men into a killing
machine capable of atrocities like SS murders
or the US army at My Lai. In her next shorter
chapter, Fighting, MacMillan tries to get at
the experience of fighting and to
convey the difficulty soldiers have had in
explaining it to their families and
other civilians. What is best known of WWI
comes from a handful of novels,
memoirs and poems. There were many different
battlefields - many soldiers did
not experience combat or were on quiet fronts.
MacMillan gives a selection of
war on land accounts including Homer’s
dispassionate account of death on the
battlefield, the confusion described in War
and Peace and the
catastrophe of the Charge of the Light
Brigade. And MacMillan does
provide a sequence of accounts by warriors of
their experiences – their
exhilaration and fear in the battle, their
dead-pan account of someone they
shot falling, or the anguish they felt from
their killing. She notes that in
war all taboos are lifted and the fighter is
in a different society. Religion
or rituals can play a calming role. And
something between friendship and love,
“comradeship,” develops and endures among
fellow combatants. She describes some
great commanders of differing styles that have
impacted the fighting
experience. Napoleon charmed the entire crew
of the ship taking him to
exile. She
ends with a quote that war is
one of the enduring human mysteries. Another short chapter
looks at civilians. Basically, it is not good
for civilians to be near hostile
armies – especially for women civilians. There
is an account from the diary of
a woman in the usually pleasant Berlin Spring
as the Soviet army arrived in
WWII. Women were raped until the military
realized the problem of adverse
public opinion. Some opportunities may present
themselves, but mostly civilians
“are the innocent victims paying the heavy
penalties for defeat in the coin of
starvation, murder, rape, slavery, forced
labour or mass deportations.” MacMillan gives an
account of the many conquests and slaughters
that form the history of Beirut,
then notes: “The sacking of cities and the
rape and slaughter of their
inhabitants have a long and dishonourable
history.” She lists Henry V’s speech
before city walls calling for surrender or
facing butchery in the Shakespeare
play. And it goes on. In
war all armies
go marching through peaceful countryside
scooping up the available food as they
go. Farm buildings go up in flames and cattle
are driven off. Navies sink
merchant shipping. Bombers drop their bombs on
targets that often include
housing, schools and hospitals. MacMillan
notes a supposed distinction between
military and civilian targets, but shows that
WWII bombing of British cities
and German cities was simply destruction aimed
at reducing morale and the will
to fight. MacMillan turns to the
civilian roles in occupied territories, and
resistance movements even in the
“puppet state” of Vichy France. Activities
spanned dangerous activities from
blowing up railways, publishing news,
preserving cultural artifacts and
documents, harbouring people. The adaptability
of civilians to the terrifying
new circumstances and privations was
remarkable. MacMillan
talks of the impact on
women. They took manufacturing jobs and
management jobs and were freed to
develop new roles. She gives accounts. War expenditures in the US and
Canada did what Keynes had been
advocating after the Depression. By abandoning
balanced budgets, they got the
economy going again. The Soviets had lost a lot of
infrastructure and had a harder time.
As the painful memories recede, civilians too
experience some of the nostalgia
that combatants can feel for the intensity of
comradeship during the war. And so MacMillan turns to a chapter
on what she calls the paradox of
controlling the uncontrollable. She tells of
19th century beginnings
by Lieber in the US who codified rules of war
for Union soldiers in the Civil War.
And Austrian Bertha Von Stutter became
involved in advocating for the Nobel
Peace Prizes. MacMillan tells of limits on
war. The Greeks had some. The notion
of a just war emerged in the early Christian
Church. She takes us through Plato
to Aquinas and ends up asking us if ISIS
qualifies as what St. Augustine called
a “legitimate authority” to wage war. For a
just war the means must be
proportionate to the end. If the war is about
a bit of land, don’t obliterate
the enemy once you have taken it. She adds
that the temptation is to go on. The West has a shameful history of
observing one set of rules like
the Geneva Conventions for the treatment of
prisoners of war and the Hague
agreements on arms limitations for itself, but
having other rules for the “less
civilized.” “Scientific butchery was what
happened elsewhere” -- Africa, Asia
or the Philippines. MacMillan says the decades prior to
1914 were productive for war-limiting
developments. There were several conferences
and she says The Hague Conventions
have become shorthand for international rules
of War. She mentions how the
Swiss NGO, the Red Cross, began, and how a
series of “Geneva Conventions”
involving the treatment of combatants and
civilians developed. But she can be
challenged here. The post WWII work on the
Geneva Conventions, the work of the
International Committee of the Red Cross with
fighting factions and the
development of Peace Keeping and Peace Making
authorized by the UN Security
Council have created a new reality of
incomplete but pervasive real limits in
today’s wars. MacMillan points out that initially
wars involved armies, but with
the 19th century civilians became concerned
with wars. She points to dilemmas
of how to treat civilians resisting under
occupation or in rebellion as
guerrillas. She raises the issue of whether to
torture enemy prisoners in counter-insurgency
wars as in Iraq.
There is difficulty with
enforcement of the rules. Yet despite flaws
the trial of German and Japanese leaders by
special tribunals at Nuremberg and Tokyo
was an effort to bring perpetrators of war
crimes to justice. These
developments and the new language of human
rights do not allow war to be an
excuse for holding persons illegally or
torturing them. Yet even with an
International Criminal Court enforcement
remains a challenge. The medieval church attempted to
promote peace with an exception for
the crusades but MacMillan rightly goes on to
say particular Christian groups,
Quakers and Mennonites, took a consistent
position against war. MacMillan
introduces Kant and philosophy against war.
She gathers various thoughts that
collaborations around trade or national
progress would make war harder. Somehow
she adds Pinker to those who hope that
improving civilization will reduce war.
Pinker did more than hope. His work shows that
the numbers of those who died in
wars and conflicts through history are going
down. But weaponry is increasing
so it can be said the dangers of war are
increasing. We are given insights into the
Hague conventions, into Tolstoy in War
and Peace, into MAD (Mutually Assured
Destruction) and the threat of
nuclear war, into proxy wars during the Cold
War and into the slaughter of the
Tutsi in Rwanda. MacMillan concludes: “War and
the threat of war are very much
with us.” She might have added Syria and
Yemen! And yet I have lived almost my
whole life without such experiences of war as
MacMillan writes about. The chapter before the conclusion
is on War in our Imaginations and
in our Memories. War features in works of art
– pictures, letters, poems and
novels. It features in civic items – statues,
memorials, monuments, tombs. By
the way, the book contains some glossy pages
of plates on paintings,
sculptures, photographs and memorials. The
text gives quotes of the likes of
Shakespeare and Tolstoy. Some artists and
writers glorify war. There are
portraits of the death of a heroic leader on a
tidy battlefield. Some like
Picasso in his famous Guernica reveal the
horror of war.
MacMillan points out that there is a
theatrical element to war that great generals
have used to lead troops into battle.
In peacetime the arts, military bands and
movies can prepare people for war.
The outpouring of folk songs of the US Vietnam
war era undermined the war.
Books for boys built patriotism and the notion
that manhood was made in war.
MacMillan moves to memories and memorial
events like poppy day that she points
out ebb and flow in various countries but
memorial events are usually driven by
some organizing group. Finally, there is a short
concluding chapter. Would we be better
just letting a war and its memorials slowly
disappear into nature? The West has
mixed feelings about war yet the West is a
smaller fraction of the world. When
weak political structures break, war becomes a
shifting thing. The stakes are
life and death but the actors are states,
political bodies, criminal gangs and
mercenaries. Ending such wars whether in the
European Thirty Years War or in
Somalia or Afghanistan today, is long and
difficult. Two kinds of fighters
co-exist: high-tech weaponized groups,
alongside low-cost suicide bombers or
exploding trucks. A major power cannot
guarantee protection of citizens from
low-cost attacks – especially if they travel.
Nor can we be certain major
conflict will not arise: China, the US, Russia
all continue with big defence
budgets and disagreements. Then comes the good ending. Maybe
war will end because it has to –
not because we have changed but because our
technology has.
Automated killing machines and cyberwar
threaten the end of humanity. And I can add
that nuclear weapons have not
stopped threatening the end of this human
civilization. Coming at the end of the book,
nothing else is said but “maybe war
will end”? Really?