almost always a reason why the enemy does not defend a place, and it usually has to do with the

limited value of that place. However, Sun Tzu was not setting up Liddell Hart. The line after the
original quote changes the meaning of the entire passage: “To be certain to hold what you defend
is to defend a place the enemy does not attack.”16 We now have a statement on chance and uncer-
tainty in war—that is, the only certain way to take a place is if the enemy is not there—not advice
on the indirect approach. Nevertheless, Sun Tzu is known as the advocate of deception, surprise,
intelligence, and maneuver to win without fighting. He is mandatory reading for the strategist.
Clausewitz.
Clausewitz is generally more useful for his philosophical musings on the nature of war than
his “how-to” strategic advice. In that arena, much of what he preached was either commonplace
or 19th century specific. The exceptions are three. First was his advocacy of seeking battle. This
obviously sets him apart from Sun Tzu and many others, and Clausewitz is quite specific about his
expectations of decisive battle. He wrote,

…the importance of the victory is chiefly determined by the vigor with which the immediate pursuit is
carried out. In other words, pursuit makes up the second act of the victory and in many cases is more im-
portant than the first. Strategy at this point draws near to tactics in order to receive the completed assign-
ment from it; and its first exercise of authority is to demand that the victory should really be complete.17

Next, Clausewitz originated the concept of attacking what he called the enemy’s center of grav-
ity. The center of gravity comes from the characteristics of the belligerents and is “the hub of all
power and movement, on which everything depends. That is the point against which all our ener-
gies should be directed.”18 He offered several possibilities but decided that attacking the enemy’s
army was usually the best way to start a campaign—followed by seizing his capital and attacking
his alliances. The concept, which the U.S. military adopted almost verbatim until the most recent
doctrinal publications, has caused interminable debate both in the active force and the school-
houses. Tactically the U.S. military has always identified and attacked vulnerabilities—now, some
dead Prussian is telling us that strategically we should attack strengths (for whatever else one
might believe, it is clear that a center of gravity is a strength, not a weakness). We thus see attempts
to mix the two concepts and essentially do both—usually described as attacking strengths through
vulnerabilities.
Clausewitz’s final significant “how-to” idea is the concept of the culminating point. “There are
strategic attacks that have led directly to peace, but these are the minority. Most of them only lead
up to the point where their remaining strength is just enough to maintain a defense and wait for
peace. Beyond that point the scale turns and the reaction follows with a small force that is usually
much stronger than that of the original attack. This is what we mean by the culminating point
of the attack.”19 Although Clausewitz only discusses culmination in terms of the attack (his later
discussion of the culminating point of victory is a different concept), modern U.S. doctrine also
identifies a culminating point for the defense—essentially a breaking point.
Jomini.
The Baron Antoine Jomini, a contemporary of Clausewitz with service in the French and Rus-
sian armies during the Napoleonic wars, also gave modern U.S. theory and doctrine several terms.
He was much more specific in his “how-to” analysis than Clausewitz. Jomini believed war was
a science and consequently one could discover, by careful study, rules about how it should be
conducted. He offered the results of his study. Jomini is often criticized for being geometric; al-

21
though such a depiction overlooks some aspects of his work, it is not totally unfair. Jomini was
specific about how to plan a campaign. First, one selected the theater of war. Next, one determined
the decisive points in the theater. Selection of bases and zones of operation followed. Then one
designated the objective point. The line of operations was then the line from the base through the
decisive points to the objective point. Thus, the great principle of war “which must be followed in
all good combinations” was contained in four maxims:
1. To throw by strategic movements the mass of an army, successively, upon the decisive points
of a theater of war, and also upon the communications of the enemy as much as possible without
compromising one’s own.
2. T
 o maneuver to engage fractions of the hostile army with the bulk of one’s forces.
3. On the battlefield, to throw the mass of the forces upon the decisive point, or upon that por-
tion of the hostile line which is of first importance to overthrow.
4. To so arrange that these masses shall not only be thrown upon the decisive point, but that
they shall engage at the proper time and with energy.20

Jomini’s maxims remain good advice if not elevated to dogma, and his terms, such as “lines of
operations,” “decisive points,” etc., form the basis of much of the language of modern operational
art.
Liddell Hart.
B. H. Liddell Hart had his own approach to strategy, which has become famous as the indirect
approach.

Strategy has not to overcome resistance, except from nature. Its purpose is to diminish the possibility of resis-
tance, and it seeks to fulfill this purpose by exploiting the elements of movement and surprise….Although
strategy may aim more at exploiting movement than at exploiting surprise, or conversely, the two ele-
ments react on each other. Movement generates surprise, and surprise gives impetus to movement.21

Just as the military means is only one of the means of grand strategy—one of the instruments in the
surgeon’s case—so battle is only one of the means to the end of strategy. If the conditions are suitable, it
is usually the quickest in effect, but if the conditions are unfavorable it is folly to use it….His [a military
strategist’s] responsibility is to seek it [a military decision] under the most advantageous circumstances
in order to produce the most profitable results. Hence his true aim is not so much to seek battle as to seek a
strategic situation so advantageous that if it does not of itself produce the decision, its continuation by a battle is
sure to achieve this. In other words, dislocation is the aim of strategy.22

The strategist produces dislocation physically by forcing the enemy to change front or by
threatening his forces or lines of communication. Dislocation is also achieved psychologically in
the enemy commander’s mind as a result of the physical dislocation. “In studying the physical
aspect we must never lose sight of the psychological, and only when both are combined is the
strategy truly an indirect approach, calculated to dislocate the opponent’s balance.” Although Lid-
dell Hart would be appalled at being compared with Clausewitz, this statement is similar to the
Prussian’s comment, “Military activity is never directed against material force alone; it is always
aimed simultaneously at the moral forces which give it life, and the two cannot be separated.”23
Liddell Hart and his indirect approach have won a wide following among strategists. However,
the issue of direct versus indirect is actually a smoke screen. The indirect approach is a tactical con-
cept elevated to the strategic level, and it loses some of its validity in the transition. Strategically,
it is sometimes (if not often) advantageous to take a direct approach. This is particularly true in

22
cases when the contending parties have disproportionate power—that is, when one side possesses
overwhelming force. In such cases, the stronger side invariably benefits from direct action. The
concept of the indirect approach is also a downright silly notion when we speak about simultane-
ous operations across the spectrum of conflict. Advocates will cry that I have missed the point. Lid-
dell Hart seeks an indirect approach only because what he really wants is the mental dislocation
it produces. I would counter that his real point was the avoidance of battle and winning without
fighting. Surprise, which Liddell Hart acknowledges is how an indirect approach produces mental
dislocation, is a tremendous advantage; however, designing strategies purely or even primarily
to achieve surprise overlooks the rest of the equation—surprise to do what? Surprise for what
purpose? If a strategist can accomplish his purpose in a direct manner, it might be more desirable
than contending with the disadvantages inherent in achieving surprise. Nevertheless, the indirect
approach is a recognized strategic tool that has tremendous utility if used intelligently.
Beaufre.
The French general and theoretician André Beaufre provided another way to think about strat-
egy. He made significant contributions to deterrence theory, especially in his skepticism of the
deterrent effect of conventional forces and his advocacy of an independent French nuclear force;
however, his main contribution was in the realm of general strategy. Beaufre published an influ-
ential trilogy of short books in the mid-1960s: An Introduction to Strategy, Deterrence and Strategy,
and Strategy of Action.24 He was generally Clausewitzian in his acceptance both of the political and
psychological natures of war and his characterization of war as a dialectic struggle between oppos-
ing wills. He was adamant that wars are not won by military means alone (destroying the enemy
army) but only by the collapse of will.
Beaufre recognized the criticality of non-military elements of power—political, economic,
etc. He also recognized that strategy was neither an exclusively wartime activity nor restricted
to planning against an enemy—one might have strategies for relations with friends or allies as
well. Beaufre is sometimes credited with expanding the concept of strategy beyond the purely
military, although contemporaries were already doing that under the rubric of grand strategy—a
term Beaufre disliked and replaced in his own writing with “total strategy.” Total strategy defined
at the highest national level how the war would be fought and coordinated the application of all
the elements of power. Below total strategy was a level Beaufre called overall strategy, which allo-
cated tasks and coordinated the activities for a single element of power (essentially national-level
sub- or supporting strategies like a National Military Strategy or a National Economic Strategy).
Below overall strategy was operational strategy, which corresponded fairly closely to the modern
concept of operational art.25
All these strategic levels directed strategies that fell into “patterns,” depending on the levels or
resources available and the intensity of the interests at stake. The first pattern Beaufre called the
direct threat; it occurred when the objective was only of moderate importance and the resources
available were large. A threat of action was often sufficient to achieve the objective. If the objective
was of moderate importance but resources were inadequate to back a direct threat, nations usu-
ally resorted to indirect pressure operationalized as political, diplomatic, or economic pressure.
If freedom of action was restricted, resources limited, and objectives important, a third pattern
resulted. That pattern was the use of successive actions employing both direct threat and indirect
pressure—often with a limited use of military force. The fourth pattern was another possibility if
freedom of action was great but the resources inadequate and the stakes high—“protracted struggle,
but at a low level of military activity [emphasis in original].” If military resources were sufficient, a
nation might try the fifth and final pattern: “violent military conflict aimed a military victory [empha-

23
sis in original].” Strategic analysis based on synthesizing both material and psychological data
rather than habit or “the fashion of the moment” should dictate the selection of the pattern and the
specific strategies.26
According to Beaufre, there were two general principles of strategy, which he borrowed from
Foch: freedom of action and economy of force. There were also two distinct but vital components
to any strategy—“1. Selection of the decisive point to be attacked (this depends on the enemy’s vul-
nerable points). 2. Selection of the preparatory maneuvers which will enable the decisive points to
be reached [italics in original].”27 Beaufre then developed a list of nineteen components of ma-
neuver: eight offensive—attack, threat, surprise, feint, deceive, thrust, wear down, follow-up; six
defensive—on guard, parry, riposte (counterattack), disengage, retire, break-off; and five related
to force posture—concentrate, disperse, economize, increase, and reduce. All of these aim at gain-
ing, retaining, or depriving the enemy of freedom of action. Retaining the initiative was vital in
every case.28
For Beaufre, total strategy might be executed in one of two modes: direct or indirect. All ele-
ments of power played in both modes, but the direct mode emphasized the military instrument.
Indirect strategy, which he carefully distinguished from Liddell Hart’s indirect approach, used
primarily the non-military instruments to achieve political goals. Beaufre also developed a univer-
sal formula for strategy: S=KFψt. “S” represented strategy, “K” was any specific factor applicable
to the case, “F” equated to material force, “ψ” represented psychological factors, and “t” was time.
That formula is too general to be useful beyond illustrating the point that in direct strategy, F is
the predominant factor while in indirect strategy ψ prevails.29 Fortunately, that is all Beaufre really
tried to do with his formula.
Another of Beaufre’s major concepts was the strategy of action. This was a counterpart to deter-
rence. When deterring, the state wanted its opponent to refrain from doing something, while an
action strategy aimed at causing someone to do something. The aim of one was negative and the
other, positive. Other authors at the time and since have called this coercion, and Beaufre used that
term, but he thought coercion too often implied use of military force and wanted action to include
a broader range of options.30 His broader interpretation and insistence on the high nature of total
strategy actually pushed his strategic theory into potential collision or overlap with policy, which
Beaufre had difficulty explaining away other than the different mindset of the practitioner of each
(intuitive, philosophical, and creative for policy; pragmatic, rational, and policy subordinate for
strategy).31
Beaufre’s work is not well known in the United States. His books are not in modern reprint in
English (a French reprint of one came out in 1998), are difficult to locate, and are not frequently
consulted. He was innovative, but his ideas were not unique. His insistence on coining new lan-
guage with which to discuss familiar topics probably worked against his long-term acceptance.
Much of his thought has come to modern U.S. theory from, or at least through, other sources.
Luttwak.
Edward Luttwak, an economist and historian who has written extensively on strategic theory,
talks about attrition and maneuver as the forms of strategy. For Luttwak, attrition is the applica-
tion of superior firepower and material strength to eventually destroy the enemy’s entire force
unless he surrenders or retreats. The enemy is nothing more than a target array to be serviced by
industrial methods. The opposite of attrition warfare is relational maneuver—“action related to
the specifics of the objective.” The goal of relational maneuver—instead of physically destroying
the enemy, as in attrition—is to incapacitate his systems. Those systems might be the enemy’s com-
mand and control or his fielded forces or even his doctrine or perhaps the spatial deployment of

24
his force, as in the penetration of a linear position. In some cases relational maneuver might entail
the attack of actual technical systems—Luttwak uses deception of radar rather than its destruction
or jamming to illustrate the final category. 32

Instead of seeking out the enemy’s concentration of strength, since that is where the targets are to be
found in bulk, the starting point of relational maneuver is the avoidance of the enemy’s strengths, fol-
lowed by the application of some selective superiority against presumed enemy weaknesses, physical or
psychological, technical or organizational.33

Luttwak recognizes that neither attrition nor relational maneuver are ever employed alone—
there is always some mix of the two even if one or the other is decidedly dominant. Relational
maneuver is more difficult to execute than attrition, although it can produce better results more
quickly. Conversely, relational maneuver can fail completely if the force applied is too weak to do
the task or it encounters unexpected resistance. Relational maneuver does not usually allow “free
substitution of quantity for quality.” There is always a basic quality floor beneath which one can-
not safely pass. Only after that floor has been exceeded will quantity substitutions be possible.34
Luttwak also says that strategy is paradoxical.

The large claim I advance here is that strategy does not merely entail this or that paradoxical proposi-
tion, contradictory and yet recognized as valid, but rather that the entire realm of strategy is pervaded by a
paradoxical logic of its own, standing against the ordinary linear logic by which we live in all other spheres
of life (except for warlike games, of course).

He believes paradoxical logic pervades the five levels (technical, tactical, operational, theater
strategic, and grand strategic) and two dimensions (vertical across levels and horizontal in levels)
of warfare.35
At the most basic level, Luttwak demonstrates both the presence and the desirability of choices
in war that defy peacetime logic. His base example is the choice of an approach road to an objec-
tive. The alternatives are a wide, straight, well-surfaced road and a narrow, winding, poorly sur-
faced road. “Only in the conflictual realm of strategy would the choice arise at all, for it is only if
combat is possible that the bad road can be good precisely because it is bad and may therefore be less
strongly held or even left unguarded by the enemy.” Thus, commanders make choices contrary
to normal logic because they produce valuable advantages—advantages arising directly from the
nature of war. Like Clausewitz, Luttwak believes the competitive aspect of war—that it is always
a competition between active opponents—is one of the defining aspects of war. “On the contrary,
the paradoxical preference for inconvenient times and directions, preparations visibly and delib-
erately incomplete, approaches seemly too dangerous, for combat at night and in bad weather, is
a common aspect of tactical ingenuity—and for a reason that derives from the essential nature of
war.” 36 Commanders make paradoxical choices primarily to gain surprise and thus reduce the risk
of combat.

To have the advantage of an enemy who cannot react because he is surprised and unready, or at least
who cannot react promptly and in full force, all sorts of paradoxical choices may be justified….Surprise
can now be recognized for what it is: not merely one factor of advantage in warfare among many others,
but rather the suspension, if only briefly, if only partially, of the entire predicament of strategy, even
as the struggle continues. Without a reacting enemy, or rather according to the extent and degree that
surprise is achieved, the conduct of war becomes mere administration.37

25
 Gaining surprise, therefore, becomes one of the key objectives of strategy. In fact, whole schools
of strategy (Luttwak refers specifically to Liddell Hart’s indirect approach) have been founded on
the principle of surprise. The problem is that paradoxical choices—those necessary to achieve
surprise—are never free or even necessarily safe because every “paradoxical choice made for the
sake of surprise must have its cost, manifest in some loss of strength that would otherwise be avail-
able.” The choice itself may make execution more difficult (it is harder to fight at night); secrecy
can inhibit preparations and is almost never total; deception may contain relatively cost-free ele-
ments (like false information leaked to the enemy) but as it becomes more sophisticated, complex,
and convincing, it soaks up resources (units conducting feints are not available at the main point
of contact). At the theoretical extreme, one could expend so much force gaining surprise that insuf-
ficient combat power remained for the real fight.38

Obviously the paradoxical course of ‘least expectation’ must stop short of self-defeating extremes, but
beyond that the decision is a matter of calculations neither safe nor precise. Although the loss of strength
potentially available is certain, success in achieving surprise can only be hoped for; and although the cost
can usually be tightly calculated, the benefit must remain a matter of speculation until the deed is done.39

All of this, of course, is complicated by friction, which Luttwak calls organizational risk. Also,
acting paradoxically can become predictable. Thus, by 1982 in Lebanon, the Israelis had estab-
lished such a reputation for paradoxical action that they were unable to achieve surprise until
they broke their established paradigm and conducted the obvious frontal attack down the Bekka
Valley. Luttwak recognizes that some situations call for straightforward, logical solutions. “If the
enemy is so weakened that his forces are best treated as a passive array of targets that might as
well be inanimate, the normal linear logic of industrial production, with all the derived criteria of
productive efficiency, is fully valid, and the paradoxical logic of strategy is irrelevant.”40
While he has some interesting and valid points, especially in the details, Luttwak’s insistence
on the paradoxical nature of war is too broad a generalization. There is much that is paradoxical
in warfare; however, if war were completely paradoxical, as Luttwak asserts (his exceptions are
too trivial to be significant), war would not yield to study. In fact, much of warfare—including its
paradox—is very logical. In a sense, Luttwak’s argument proves that proposition and refutes itself.
Van Creveld.
Martin Van Creveld’s The Transformation of War is, according at least to the cover, “The most
radical reinterpretation of armed conflict since Clausewitz.” He represents a segment of modern
scholars that believe Clausewitz no longer explains why, how, or by whom wars are fought. To
Van Creveld, war is no longer a rational political act conducted among states—if it ever was. He
points out that in 1991, warfare waged by non-state actors dominated conflict—rather than the
organized, political, inter-state warfare between great powers that the international community
seemed to expect (and Clausewitz seemed to predict). War is no longer fought by the entities we
always assumed fought wars. The combatants in modern wars no longer fight for the reasons we
always believed. Finally, they do not fight in the manner we always accepted as standard.41
Modern war takes many forms—the Clausewitzian trinitarian form of war being one of, but
by no means the dominant one. For Van Creveld, Clausewitz does not apply in any case that does
not involve exclusively state-on-state warfare. Since he sees a resurgence of “Low-Intensity Con-
flict,” Van Creveld believes war will be dominated by non-state actors. “We are entering an era,
not of peaceful economic competition between trading blocks, but of warfare between ethnic and
religious groups.” Current fielded military forces are irrelevant to the tasks they will likely face.

26
Should the states in question fail to recognize the changed reality, they will first become incapable
of wielding appropriate force at all and eventually cease to exist as recognizable states.42
The nature of the participants dictates the nature of the reasons they fight. Because the partici-
pants are not states, they will not be fighting for state-like reasons. This follows logically from Van
Creveld’s assertion that politics applies only to states—not a more broadly defined interest in a
more broadly defined community. Non-state actors fight wars for abstract concepts like justice or
religion. Frequently, groups feel their existence is threatened and lash out violently in response. In
any case, reasons are highly individualistic and do not yield easily to analysis—especially analysis
based on the inappropriate model of the Clausewitzian universe.43
Finally, Van Creveld believes that Clausewitz did not understand how wars are fought—at
least his assertion that they would tend naturally toward totality is wrong. He cites international
law and convention, among other factors, as major inhibitors on the drift toward totality in state-
on-state war. More significant is his critique of strategy. Like Luttwak, Van Creveld sees strategy
as paradoxical. He believes pairs of paradoxes define strategy. If the object of war is to beat our
opponent’s force with our own, then we must design maneuvers to pit strength against weakness.
Because war is competitive, our enemy is doing the same thing, and we must conceal or protect
our weakness from the opponent’s strength. Thus, the essence of strategy is .”..the ability to feint,
deceive, and mislead.” Eventually one can work so hard on concealing that he and his side may
be deceived—where the distinction between feint and main effort is unclear. Van Creveld also
discusses the paradox in time and space using the same argument as Luttwak that the shortest
distance between two points may not be a straight line. Other paradoxes include those between
concentration and dispersion (concentration is necessary to apply power, but concentration in-
creases the chance of discovery) and between effectiveness and efficiency (the more economical,
streamlined, or efficient a military organization becomes, the more vulnerable it is).44
Perhaps uniquely in the field of strategic theory, Martin Van Creveld has provided a critique
of his own thesis. In a chapter of a book published in 2003, Van Creveld finds, not surprisingly,
that on balance his earlier work, written in 1988-1989, holds up very well. The Gulf War was an
aberration—the outcome of which was almost preordained. Otherwise, .”..the main thesis of The
Transformation of War, namely that major armed conflict between major powers is on the way out,
seems to have been borne out during the ten years since the book’s publication.” Conversely, non-
trinitarian wars are on the rise and conventional forces do not seem able to bring them to satisfac-
tory closure. .”..[T]he prediction that history is witnessing a major shift from trinitarian to non-
trinitarian war seems to have fulfilled itself and is still fulfilling itself on an almost daily basis.”
He believes information warfare might be a wild card that could disrupt his predictions; however,
on balance he sees information as advantageous to (or at least an equalizing factor for) non-state
actors, and hence a confirmation of the trend toward non-trinitarianism. Thus, Van Creveld sticks
with his criticism of Clausewitz and essentially every element of his original thesis.45
A Quranic Theory of War.
Pakistani Brigadier S. K. Malik, who was schooled in Western military thought, proposed a
Muslim way of war in his book The Quranic Concept of War. First published in Pakistan in 1979 and
republished in India thirteen years later, the book remains little known, and until recently, difficult
to obtain in the west.46 The book is heavy on theology, and a basic understanding of Islam—at least
a reading of the Quran—helps immensely in understanding it. Malik says that the Quran gives a
perfect and comprehensive understanding of every aspect of war and strategy. One of the basic
premises is that as a divine religious work the Quran “does not interpret war in terms of narrow
national interests but points towards the realization of universal peace and justice.”47 As between

27
people, relations between nations should be peaceful; war can “only be waged for the sake of jus-
tice, truth, law and preservation of human society.”48 But Allah first granted the Muslims permis-
sion to wage war against oppressors and “later commanded them to fight…as a matter of religious
obligation and duty.”49 The main cause of permissible war is delivery of the weak and persecuted
from tyranny. This is to be done with “no semblance of any kind of adventurism, militarism,
fanaticism, national interest, personal motives and economic compulsion.”50 The object of war is
to set conditions of peace, justice and faith. This is accomplished by destroying oppressors.51 The
foundation for warfare is the fact that all wars must be waged for the cause of Allah. The Quran
promises heavenly rewards for “those who fight for this noblest heavenly cause.”52 This basic fact
makes Islamic armies psychologically and morally strong and thus grants immunity to psycho-
logical attacks.53 Quranic war must be conducted ethically. While Muslims can “follow the law of
Equality and Reciprocity,” they are directed to show restraint.54 Muslims are supposed to defeat
the enemy and only after the destruction of the foe can prisoners be taken. Once taken, prisoners
are to be treated well.55
In terms of strategy, Malik finds the Quran offers a unique approach for Muslims. The basis of
this strategy is “to prepare ourselves for war to the utmost in order to strike terror into the hearts of the en-
emies, known and unknown, while guarding ourselves from being terror-stricken by the enemy.” [emphasis
in original].56 As Malik recognizes, the whole strategy is based on understanding war as a clash
of wills. “In war, our main objective is the opponent’s heart or soul, our main weapon of offence
against this objective is the strength of our own souls, and to launch such an attack, we have to
keep terror away from our own hearts.” [emphasis in original]57 One wins war through spirited,
complete and thorough preparation—thereby winning the war of wills before beginning the war
of muscles. In peacetime, preparation becomes an expression of will. Preparation must be “to the
utmost” in every respect and must include all the elements of power, not just the military.58 States
with few physical resources must rely more heavily on the spiritual dimension of war. Malik em-
phasizes that breaking the will of the enemy is not a means to an end as in Liddell Hart’s concept,
but the object of war. “It is the point where the means and the ends meet and merge. Terror is not
a means of imposing decision upon the enemy; it is the decision [emphasis in original] we wish to
impose upon him.”59 Muslim armies that practice the Quranic concept of war are totally immune
to psychological attack.
It is unclear how well known or influential Malik’s Quranic Concept of War is in the Muslim
world. General Mohammad Zia-ul-Haq, who had overthrown the Pakistani government and was
both President and Chief of Staff of the Army when Malik published his book, wrote a brief for-
ward recommending and endorsing the book. Similarly, Allah Bukhsh K. Brohi, the Advocate-
General of Pakistan, wrote a long Preface endorsing the most expansive concepts Malik found in
the Quran. The publishers of the electronic version of the book claim it has been discovered on
the bodies of dead jihadists in Afghanistan.60 Malik’s work certainly has aggressive elements that
would appeal to Islamic terrorists.
MISCELLANEOUS ALTERNATIVES
There are also whole categories we can only classify as miscellaneous, alternative, possibly,
strategic concepts:
Denial, Punishment, and Coercion.
These are proposed replacements for attrition, exhaustion, and annihilation. They actually de-
scribe the ends of strategy (or perhaps a limited set of ways) rather than a complete strategic con-
cept. Their utility is limited and their acceptance as a group by the strategic community is minimal

28
at best. Coercion, of course, is a recognized strategic concept on its own; it is just not commonly
grouped with denial and punishment as a paradigm.
Jones.
Historian Archer Jones has a unique approach to strategy.

The object for military strategy used herein is the depletion of the military force of an adversary. The
definition of political-military strategy, a companion term, is the use of military force to attain political
or related objectives directly, rather than by depleting an adversary’s military force. Of course, military
strategy usually endeavored to implement political or comparable objectives but sought to attain them
indirectly, by depleting the hostile military force sufficiently to gain an ascendancy adequate to attain the
war’s political goals.61

Jones does not use attrition because of its association with a particular form of military strategy.
Instead, he asserts that military force can achieve its objective of depleting the enemy through one
of two methods. Combat strategies deplete the enemy by directly destroying his force in the field.
Logistic strategies deprive the opponent of supplies, forces, weapons, recruits, or other resources.
Either of these strategies can be executed in one of two ways. One can use “a transitory presence
in hostile territory to make a destructive incursion,” which Jones labels a raiding strategy, or one
can conquer and permanently occupy significant segments of enemy territory, which he calls a
persisting strategy. The two pairs—combat and logistics and raiding and persisting—define com-
prehensive strategy.62

Jones then puts the factors into a matrix and uses them for all kinds of warfare—air, land, and sea. Air
war, however, can really only be raiding because of the nature of the medium. This is a military only,
ways only approach to strategy that works best as Jones applies it—in retrospect to analyze historical
campaigns. The separation of a purely political strategy from military strategy based on whether or not
the aim is depleting the enemy force is awkward to say the least. Jones has an interesting concept of
“political attrition.” This means that victory in battle raises morale and engenders optimism about win-
ning in a reasonable time with acceptable casualties. Conversely, defeat in battle makes victory look less
certain, farther away in time, and attainable only at high cost. He does not think that political attrition
necessarily works in reverse—that is, you cannot store up good will during good times to tide you over
during the bad times. (Although presumably you would start the bad times at a higher overall level of
morale.) Elsewhere, Jones compares popular will to win with the classic economic supply and demand
theory of elastic and inelastic demand.63 That is a much less satisfying explanation. While perhaps of little
use to practical strategists, Archer Jones’ concepts are creative and not completely without merit. His
ideas show up with increasing frequency in historical works.

Decapitation.
An attractive recent concept is a strategy we might characterize as decapitation, in which one
targets specifically and selectively the enemy leader or at least a fairly limited set of upper-echelon
leaders. This has most recently found expression in the expressed strategic objective of regime
change, which tends to automatically focus on the enemy regime leadership regardless of the po-
tential scope of the mission. Strategic treatises like the Quadrennial Defense Review and the National
Defense Strategy, which use regime change as an evaluative factor, hint at a widening acceptance
of the concept. A primary assumption, generally implied or asserted without proof, is that the
current leader (perhaps aided by a small group of accomplices) is the whole cause of the interna-

29
tional dispute. A corollary assumption is that eliminating the current evil leadership will result in
its replacement by a regime willing to grant the concessions demanded by the opposing state or
coalition.
There are several problems with this approach—most related to the validity of the assump-
tions. First, the assumption that the common people of a country are good and could not possibly
support the policies of their evil ruler is (as a minimum) unproven in most cases and palpably false
in many. Thus, decapitation will not solve the problem. In Clausewitzian terms, taking out the
government does not automatically destroy or break the will of either the people or the military.
Second, a potential follow-on regime can be either better than, about the same as, or worse than
the current leadership. Hence, the odds of achieving one’s policy objectives by decapitation are
actually fairly poor. The U.S. experience in Iraq after successfully removing Saddam Hussein’s
regime demonstrate these caveats. The old saw about contending with the devil one knows may
be worn, but that does not make it any less worthwhile advice, and while decapitation may work,
it is neither easy nor a panacea.
Boyd.
U.S. Air Force Colonel John R. Boyd talks about the “OODA loop”—that is, the decision cycle
of observation, orientation, decision, and action. The concept is derived from a fighter pilot in a
dogfight. Like the pilot, a strategist wins by outthinking and outmaneuvering his opponent; by the
time the opponent decides what to do and initiates action it is too late, since you have already an-
ticipated and countered his move or made a countermove that makes his action meaningless. One
accomplishes this by possessing sufficient agility to be able, both mentally and physically, to act a
step or more ahead of the enemy. Thus, the successful strategist always works inside his enemy’s
decision cycle.64 This theory describes a way, and really is a new and unnecessarily complicated
rephrasing of the ancient concept of the initiative. Initiative is not critical or essential, and alone it
is not decisive. Robert E. Lee had tactical, operational, and even strategic initiative at Gettysburg
and lost tactically, operationally, and strategically. However, initiative is a tremendous advan-
tage—if Boyd’s paradigm makes it more clear or obvious to the strategist, it has provided a service.
The caution is that one can think and act so swiftly and outpace the enemy so dramatically as to
actually create friendly vulnerability. The OODA-loop concept predicts that the enemy will not be
able to react effectively to an action; however, it does not postulate enemy paralysis and complete
immobility. One can envision circumstances in which a confused enemy reacting to information
or situations hours or days behind its opponent makes a devastatingly successful move that its
opponent has long since discounted or thought negated.
Warden.
Another U.S. Air Force Colonel, John A. Warden III, translated his targeteering experience into
a strategic theory, thus elevating the tactical process of allocating aircraft sorties to specific targets
to a strategic theory. Warden views the enemy as a system of targets arrayed in five strategic rings;
the innermost and most important is leadership. One can win by striking that inner ring so fre-
quently and violently that the enemy is essentially paralyzed and never able to mount an effective
defense. It is unnecessary to take on the outer and much more difficult target rings like the enemy’s
armed forces, although modern advances like stealth technology make simultaneous attack of the
entire target array possible (instead of the traditional sequential attacks, in which one array had to
be neutralized before proceeding to the next).65 This is often considered an air power theory—and
Warden used it to push the decisiveness of air power—but the conceptual approach has broader
application. This concept’s major drawback as a general theory of strategy is that it works best (if
not exclusively) when one side has or can quickly gain total dominance of its opponent’s airspace.

30
Underdog Strategies.
There are also a number of alternative strategies that seem to be intended specifically for, or at
least, to be most appropriate for, weaker powers or underdogs:
Fabian.
Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus was a Roman general during the Second Punic War. He
advocated avoiding open battle, because he was convinced the Romans would lose, which they
proceed to do when they abandoned his strategy. Thus, Fabian strategy is a strategy in which one
side intentionally avoids large-scale battle for fear of the outcome. Victory depends on wearing
down (attriting) one’s opponent over time—usually by an unrelenting campaign of skirmishes
between detachments. Somewhat akin to a Fabian strategy is a strategy of survival. In that case,
however, the weaker power does not necessarily avoid battle. Instead, one reacts to his opponent’s
moves rather than make an effort to seize the initiative. The object is to survive rather than to
win in the classic sense—hopefully, sheer survival achieves (or perhaps comprises) one’s political
aim. This is a favorite alternative strategy of modern critics for the Confederate States of America.
Scorched-earth strategies are another variant of the basic Fabian strategy. The concept is to with-
draw slowly before an enemy, while devastating the countryside over which he must advance so
he cannot subsist his force on your terrain. Attrition will eventually halt the attack—it will reach
what Clausewitz called a culminating point—and the retreating side can safely assume the of-
fensive. This is actually the addition of a tactical technique to the basic Fabian strategy and not a
major new school of strategy.
There is a whole subset of doctrine under the general heading of strategies for the weak that
advocates guerrilla warfare, insurgency, and/or terrorism:
Lawrence.
T. E. (Thomas Edward) Lawrence was the first of the theorists of insurgency or revolution-
ary warfare. His Seven Pillars of Wisdom, originally published in 1926, recounted his experiences
with Arab insurgent forces fighting the Turks in World War I.66 The title—a reference to Proverbs
that Lawrence carried over from an earlier incomplete book about seven Arab cities—is mislead-
ing, since Lawrence did not have seven theoretical pillars of guerrilla war. Lawrence’s narrative
explained the war in the desert by clearly defining the objective, carefully analyzing the Arab
and Turkish forces, describing the execution of raids to maintain the initiative, and emphasizing
the importance of intelligence, psychological warfare, and propaganda. The objective of the guer-
rilla was not the traditional objective of conventional forces—decisive battle. In fact, the guerrilla
sought exactly the opposite—the longest possible defense.67 Lawrence believed that successful
guerrillas needed safe bases and the support of at least some of the populace—perhaps as little as
20 percent—although an insurgency might be successful with as little as two percent of the popu-
lation in active support as long as the other 98 percent remained at least neutral. A technologically
sophisticated enemy (so the guerrilla could attack his lines of communications) that was not strong
enough to occupy the entire country was also advantageous. Tactically, the guerrilla relied on
speed, endurance, logistic independence, and at least a minimal amount of weaponry. Lawrence
compared guerrillas to a gas operating around a fixed enemy and talked about them as raiders
versus regulars. Their operations were always offensive and conducted in precise fashion by the
smallest possible forces. The news media was their friend and tool. Lawrence thought the Arabs
were ideally suited for such warfare, and that “granted mobility, security, time, and doctrine” the
guerrillas would win.68 His theory got entangled in his flamboyant personality, so although he was
a society darling, Lawrence had less impact on military circles.69

31
Mao.
Mao Zedong developed the most famous and influential theory of insurgency warfare. His
concepts, designed initially for the Chinese fight against the Japanese in World War II, have been
expanded and adapted by himself and others to become a general theory of revolutionary warfare.
Mao emphasizes the political nature of war and the reliance of the army on the civilian population,
especially the Chinese peasant population. He advocated a protracted war against the Japanese;
victory would come in time through attrition. He believed the Chinese should avoid large battles
except in the rare instances when they had the advantage. Guerrillas should normally operate
dispersed across the countryside and concentrate only to attack. Because the Chinese had a regu-
lar army contending with the Japanese, Mao had to pay particular attention to how guerrilla and
regular operations complemented each other. He postulated a progressive campaign that would
move slowly and deliberately from a stage when the Chinese were on the strategic defensive
through a period of strategic stalemate to the final stage when Chinese forces assumed the stra-
tegic offensive. The ratio of forces and their tactical activities in each stage reflected the strategic
realities of the environment. Thus, guerrilla forces and tactics dominated the phase of the strategic
defensive. During the strategic stalemate, mobile and guerrilla warfare would complement each
other, and guerrilla and regular forces would reach approximate equilibrium (largely by guerrilla
forces combining and training into progressively larger regular units). Mobile warfare conducted
by regular units would dominate the period of strategic offensive. Although guerrilla units would
never completely disappear, the regular forces would achieve the final victory.70 Mao has had an
enormous impact on the field of revolutionary warfare theory.
Guevara.
Ernesto “Che” Guevara de la Serna based his theory of revolutionary warfare on the Cuban
model. He offered a definition of strategy that highlighted his variation of the basic guerrilla
theme—especially his divergence from the Maoist emphasis on the political nature of the conflict
and reliance on the people. Che wrote, “In guerrilla terminology, strategy means the analysis of
the objectives we wish to attain. First, determine how the enemy will operate, his manpower,
mobility, popular support, weapons, and leadership, Then, plan a strategy to best confront these
factors, always keeping in mind that the final objective is to destroy the enemy army.” To Che the
major lessons of the Cuban Revolution were that guerrillas could defeat regular armies; that it was
unnecessary to wait for all the political preconditions to be met before beginning the fight—the
insurrection itself would produce them; and that the countryside was the arena for conflict in
underdeveloped Latin America. Gradual progress through the Maoist stages of revolution was
unnecessary—the guerrilla effort could not only establish the political preconditions of revolu-
tion but also win the war on its own. Parties, doctrine, theories, and even political causes were
unimportant. The armed insurgency would eventually produce them all.71 That was incredibly
naive and even dangerous as an insurgent strategic concept, but Che became very well-known—if
unsuccessful—pursuing it.
Terrorism.
Although there is no outstanding single theorist of terrorism, it is not a new strategic concept.
Often used as a tactical part or preliminary stage of a larger campaign or insurgency, terrorism
can, if fact, be a strategy, and sometimes even a goal in itself. Many ideological terrorists—perhaps
the best examples are ecological terrorists—have no desire or intent to progress militarily beyond
terrorism. Although political, most are not interested in overthrowing a government or seizing

32
control of conventional political power. They simply want their espoused policies, ideologies, or
political agendas adopted. Alternatively, anarchists, who traditionally have used terror, just want
to destroy government without replacing it. They have no positive goal whatever.
The theory behind terrorism is fairly straightforward. A weak, usually non-governmental, ac-
tor uses violence, either random or carefully targeted and often directed against civilian targets,
to produce terror. The aim is to make life so uncertain and miserable that the state against which
the terror is directed concedes whatever political, social, economic, environmental, or theologi-
cal point the terrorist pursues. The technique has not proven particularly effective as a stand-
alone strategy in changing important policies in even marginally effective states. It is, however,
comparatively cheap, easy to conceptualize and execute, requires minimal training, is relatively
safe—since competent terrorist groups are extremely difficult to eradicate—and is demonstrably
effective in gaining the terrorist publicity for himself and the cause.
Counter Underdog Strategies.
If there are strategies for the weak, the strong are sure to develop counter-strategies. Oppo-
nents generally fight a Fabian strategy by trying to exert enough pressure or threaten some critical
location or capability to bring about the battle the Fabian strategist is trying to avoid. There is (and
needs to be) no body of theoretical work on countering Fabian strategies. The same, however, can-
not be said of countering insurgencies and terrorism.
Formal modern counterinsurgency theory developed as a result of the insurgencies that sprang
up after World War II in the decolonizing world. It tended to be symmetric in the sense that it ana-
lyzed insurgencies and then attempted to beat them at their own game and in their chosen arena.
Modern counterinsurgency theory tends to recognize the political nature of most insurgencies and
approach them holistically rather than from a primarily military point of view. That is a fairly big
break with traditional counterinsurgency techniques, that predominately concentrated on locating
and destroying the guerrillas and often relied heavily on punishing the local population for guer-
rilla activity as the sole means of separating the guerrilla from his base of support. Discussion of
some representative modern counterinsurgency theorists follows:
Callwell.
British Colonel Charles E. Callwell wrote Small Wars—Their Principles and Practice at the end of
the 19th century. This was a guide for the conduct of colonial wars. Callwell distinguished three
broad categories of small wars, which he defined as any war in which one side was not a regular
army. His categories were: campaigns of conquest or annexation; campaigns to suppress insur-
gents; and campaigns to punish or overthrow dangerous enemies. Each was fundamentally differ-
ent from any form of regular warfare. Small wars could take almost any shape—the most danger-
ous of which was guerrilla warfare. Callwell gave sound tactical advice about fighting a colonial or
guerrilla enemy, but, from a theoretical or strategic point of view, his advice is of limited value. He
recognized that colonial enemies could be skilled and dedicated warriors and recommended treat-
ing them as such—a refreshing change from standard colonial views. However, Callwell thought
the small-wars experience was both exclusively military and unique to the colonies. He thus both
did not develop the multi-disciplinary approach common to modern counterinsurgency strategy
and did not recommend translating the colonial military lessons into lessons for the big wars of
the European colonial powers. He thought the strategic aim of counterinsurgency was to fight,
because the counterinsurgents had the tactical advantage but were at a strategic disadvantage.
Callwell, while still touted today and worth a look for his tactical precepts, was a theoretical dead
end for the strategist.72

33
Trinquier.
Roger Trinquier published Modern Warfare: A French View of Counterinsurgency in 1961. Trin-
quier served with the French paras in Indochina and Algeria. Those experiences shaped his views,
and his theory heavily reflects French counterinsurgency practice in the 1950s. Trinquier argued
that nuclear weapons were decreasing the significance of major traditional wars. The new form of
war, which he called modern warfare (always in italics for emphasis), featured guerrilla war, insur-
gency, terrorism, and subversion. One of the major assumptions of modern war was that victory
would not come from the clash of armies on battlefields, but from control of the support of the
population.73 Trinquier approached the study of counterinsurgency by examining how the goals
and techniques of insurgents differed from traditional warfare. His conclusion was that traditional
methods and organizations would not work in counterinsurgencies. Trinquier’s concept of mod-
ern warfare advocated an interlocking system of political, economic, psychological, and military
actions to undermine the insurgents’ strategies, destroy their organization as a whole (not simply
its military arm), and gain the support of the people.
Trinquier suggested three principles: separate the guerrilla from the population, occupy the
zones the guerrilla previously used to deny him reentry, and coordinate actions over a wide
enough area and long enough time to deny the guerrilla access to the population.74 Following the
successful technique of quadrillage used by the French in Algeria, Trinquier advocated a gridding
system to divide up the country administratively and to facilitate sweeping and controlling the na-
tion sequentially. Grids would be hierarchical from province to sector and so on down to block or
even very large individual buildings in major urban areas. Leaders in every grid were responsible
for everything from local defense to providing intelligence. Establishing and running the grids
was largely a police function.75 The army would then be basically reorganized in tiers to support
the strategy. Grid units would provide strong points and patrols for local security; interval units
would work in sectors to destroy the political and military structures of the enemy in their sector;
and intervention units would be elite troops that sought out enemy refuges and destroyed major
enemy units.76 Trinquier was also a strong advocate of eliminating safe havens both inside and
outside the national borders. He even recommended using modern war—in the form of clan-
destine guerrilla operations—against enemy bases in neighboring countries where conventional
forces could not go without provoking international war.77 Trinquier’s basic approach—minus
some of its more radical elements, like advocacy of harsh interrogation and radical reorganization
of the military—is found in all modern counterinsurgency theory.
Galula.
David Galula wrote Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice in 1964. He postulated a
simple construct for counterinsurgencies that emphasized the political nature of the conflict, es-
pecially the relationship between the insurgent and his cause. His definition of “[i]nsurgency is
the pursuit of the policy of a party, inside a country, by every means” was designed to emphasize
that insurgencies could start before the use of force. Insurgencies are by their nature asymmetric
because of the disparity of resources between the contenders. The counterinsurgent has all the
tangible assets—military, police, finance, court systems, etc., while the insurgent’s advantages are
intangible—the ideological power of his cause. Insurgents base their strategies on powerful ide-
ologies, while the counterinsurgent has to maintain order without undermining the government.
The rules applicable to one side do not always fit the other. The logic of this asymmetric power
relationship forced the insurgent to avoid military confrontation and instead move the contest to
a new arena where his ideological power was effective—the population became the seat of war.

34
Politics becomes the instrument of war rather than force, and that remains true throughout the
war. Politics takes longer to produce effects, so all insurgencies are protracted.78
The counterinsurgent warrior must begin by understanding the political-social-economic cause
of his opponent. Large parts of the population must be able to identify with that cause. The cause
must be unique in the sense that the counterinsurgent cannot co-opt it. The cause can change over
time as the insurgency adapts. The power of the cause increases as the guerrilla gains strength and
has success. Good causes attract large numbers of supporters and repel the minimum number of
neutrals. An artificial or concocted cause makes the guerrilla work harder to sell his position, but
an efficient propaganda machine can do that.79
Galula discussed several approaches to immunizing the population against the insurgent cause
or message. Counterinsurgents must: continuously reassess the nature and scope of the problem
with which they deal; address problems proactively; isolate the battlefield from external support;
and work to increase support for the regime. They must be vigilant—they should not interpret a
strategic pause by the insurgents as victory. Intelligence is critical. The counterinsurgent organiza-
tion must have the authority to direct political, social, economic, and military efforts. The military
cannot have a free hand—it must work within and be subordinate to the overall political cam-
paign. Like Trinquier, Galula recommended a systematic division of the country and sequential
search, clear, and hold operations. Counterinsurgent propaganda should focus on gaining and
maintaining the neutrality of the population.80 Galula is having a major influence on the develop-
ment (or rediscovery) of U.S. counterinsurgency theory in 2006.
Kitson.
Frank Kitson wrote Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency, and Peacekeeping in 1971.
He added details to the basic structure of counterinsurgency theory already constructed by the
French. Like the other theorists, Kitson recognized that counterinsurgency is a multidisciplinary
job. He warned against abuses, but recommended that heavy force be used early to squash an
insurgency while still in a manageable state. The military campaign must be coordinated with
good psychological operations. Kitson conceptualized two kinds of intelligence—political and
operational. Political intelligence is an ongoing process, while operational intelligence supports
specific military operations. The military must be involved in the intelligence-gathering process
(political as well as operational). Counterinsurgency forces must be attuned to the environment,
able to optimize resources by phases of the campaign, and able to coordinate all the resources at
their disposal.81
STRATEGIC ADVICE
There are also numerous advice books that give leaders and decisionmakers more or less spe-
cific advice about what to do or how to do it without necessarily offering a comprehensive strate-
gic or theoretical paradigm. Examples include Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Art of War, The Discourses,
and The Prince, written to influence 16th-century Florentine leaders, and Frederick the Great’s
Instructions for His Generals, the title of which explains its intent. Alternatively, there are collections
like The Military Maxims of Napoleon of military advice culled from the writings of great soldiers. As
historian David Chandler noted in his introduction to a recent reprint of that work, ‘The practical
value of military maxims can be debatable….Consequently the collecting of his [Napoleon’s] obiter
dicta into any kind of military rule-book for future generations to apply is a process fraught with
perils and pitfalls.” In a more modern vein, Michele A. Flournoy, ed., QDR 2001: Strategy-Driven
Choices for America’s Security is essentially an advice book that presents a specific strategic solution
without developing an overarching strategic theory.82 Advice books are often beneficial; however,
their generally narrow focus and frequent bumper sticker quality limit that utility.

35
DETERRENCE
During the Cold War the nuclear weapons field developed its own set of specific strategies
based on deterrence theory. Deterrence theory itself is a useful strategic concept. Conversely, con-
cepts like mutual assured destruction, counterforce or counter-value targeting, launch on warn-
ing, and first strike versus retaliation are terms of nuclear art that will retain some relevance as
long as major nations maintain large nuclear stockpiles, but they no longer dominate the strategic
debate as they once did. According to the Department of Defense, deterrence is “the prevention
from action by fear of the consequences.”83 It is altogether different from compellence, in which
one is attempting to make another party do something. Theoretically, one party can deter another
either by threat of punishment or by denial. Threat of punishment implies performing an act that
will evoke a response so undesirable that the actor decides against acting. Deterrence by denial
seeks to avert an action by convincing the actor that he cannot achieve his purpose. In either case
deterrence theory assumes rational decisionmakers with similar value systems. To be deterred,
one must be convinced that his adversary possesses both the capability to punish or deny and
the will to use that capability. Demonstrating the effectiveness of deterrence is difficult, since it
involves proving the absence of something resulted from a specific cause; however, politicians and
strategists generally agree that nuclear deterrence worked during the Cold War. It is not as clear
that conventional deterrence works, although that concept has numerous advocates and is deeply
embedded in modern joint doctrine.
Deterrence theory had many fathers, but some of the most prominent deserve mention. Albert
Wohlstetter established his credentials when he wrote The Delicate Balance of Terror for RAND in
1958. Bernard Brodie wrote, among other things, Strategy in the Missile Age in 1959. Herman Kahn’s
On Thermonuclear War was groundbreaking in 1960. Thomas C. Schelling published The Strategy of
Conflict in 1960 and Arms and Influence six years later; both remain classics.84
SEA POWER
Mahan.

There are also schools of single-service strategies devoted to sea power or air power. In the sea
power arena the most famous strategic theorists are Alfred Thayer Mahan and Julian S. Corbett.
American naval officer Mahan wrote several books and articles around the turn of the 20th century
advocating sea power. Perhaps the most famous was The Influence of Sea Power Upon History, 1660-
1783. Mahan developed a set of criteria that he believed facilitated sea power, but his major contri-
bution was in the realm of the exercise of that capability through what he called “command of the
sea.” His study of history convinced Mahan that the powerful maritime nations had dominated
history, and specifically, that England had parlayed its command of the sea into world dominance.
At the grand strategic level Mahan believed that countries with the proper prerequisites should
pursue sea power (and especially naval power) as the key to prosperity.
To Mahan, oceans were highways of commerce. Navies existed to protect friendly commerce
and interrupt that of their enemies. The way to do both was to gain command of the sea.85 For
Mahan, the essence of naval strategy was to mass one’s navy, seek out the enemy navy, and de-
stroy it in a decisive naval battle. With the enemy’s navy at the bottom of the ocean—that is, with
command of the sea—your merchantmen were free to sail where they pleased while the enemy’s
merchantmen were either confined to port or subject to capture. Diversion of naval power to sub-
sidiary tasks like commerce raiding (a favorite U.S. naval strategy in the early years of the republic)
was a waste of resources, although in his later writing Mahan acknowledged some contribution
from such tactics. The key to Mahanian naval warfare was thus the concentrated fleet of major

36
combatants that would fight for and hopefully win command of the sea. Ideally, that fleet would
have global reach, which required secure bases for refueling conveniently located worldwide. Al-
though Mahan’s theories actively supported his political agenda of navalism and imperialism,
they contained enough pure and original thought to survive both the author and his age.
Corbett.
British author Julian S. Corbett had a different interpretation of naval warfare. A contemporary
of Mahan, Corbett saw British success not so much as a result of dominance of the sea, as from its
ability to effectively wield what we call today all the elements of national power. Corbett differen-
tiated between maritime power and strategy and naval power and strategy. Maritime strategy en-
compassed all the aspects of sea power—military, commercial, political, etc. Naval strategy dealt
specifically with the actions and maneuvers of the fleet. Like Mahan, Corbett saw oceans as high-
ways of commerce and understood their importance. However, he emphasized not the uniqueness
of sea power but its relationship with other elements of power. For Corbett, the importance of
navies was not their ability to gain command of the sea but their ability to affect events on land. He
believed that navies rarely won wars on their own—they often made it possible for armies to do
so. The navy’s role was thus to protect the homeland while isolating and facilitating the insertion
of ground forces into the overseas objective area. Neither command of the sea nor decisive naval
battle were necessarily required to accomplish either of those tasks. Although Corbett admitted
that winning the decisive naval clash remained the supreme function of a fleet, he believed there
were times when that was neither necessary nor desirable.86 His theories most closely approximate
current U.S. naval doctrine.
Jeune Ecolé.
Another school of sea power was the Jeune Ecolé, which was popular on the continent in the
early 1880s. Its primary advocate was Admiral Théophile Aube of the French Navy. Unlike the
theories of either Mahan or Corbett, which were intended for major naval powers, the Jeune Ecolé
was a classic small-navy strategy. It was a way for land powers to fight sea powers. Advocates
claimed that a nation did not have to command the sea to use it. In fact, modern technology made
gaining command of the sea impossible. And one certainly did not have to have a large fleet of
capital ships or win a big fleet battle. Rather than capital ships, one could rely on torpedo boats and
cruisers (later versions would emphasize submarines). The naval strategist could either use those
smaller vessels against the enemy’s fleet in specific situations, such as countering an amphibi-
ous invasion, or more commonly against his commerce (to deny him the value of commanding
the sea). Either use could be decisive without the expense of building and maintaining a large
fleet or the dangers inherent in a major naval battle.87 The Jeune Ecolé was an asymmetric naval
strategy. It had a brief spurt of popularity and faded. Its advocates probably chuckled knowingly
during World Wars I and II as submarines executed their pet theory without the benefit of a name
other than “unrestricted submarine warfare.” It is still available as an asymmetric approach to war
at sea.
AIR POWER
Douhet.

The basis of classic air power theory—although paternity is debatable—is The Command of the
Air, published first in 1921 by Italian general and author Giulio Douhet. Reacting to the horrors he
had seen in the First World War, Douhet became an advocate of air power. He believed that the

37
airplane could restore decisiveness to warfare that ground combat seemed incapable of achieving.
It could fly over the ground battlefield to directly attack the enemy’s will. Because of technical
problems with detection and interception, stopping an air raid would be impossible. Big bombers
carrying a mix of high explosive, incendiary, and poison gas weapons could target enemy cit-
ies. Civilian populations, which were the key to modern warfare, would be unable to stand such
bombardment and would soon force their governments to surrender. Although civilian casualties
might be high, this would be a more humane method of warfare than prolonged ground combat.
There were a few strategic dicta beyond that. First, a prerequisite for success was command
of the air—a theory closely related to command of the sea. Command of the air granted one side
the ability to fly where and when it desired while the enemy was unable to fly. Next, because the
airplane was an offensive weapon, one gained command of the air by strategic bombardment—
ideally catching the enemy’s air force on the ground. Recognizing the technological limitations of
his day, Douhet believed there was no need for anti-aircraft artillery or interceptors, since neither
worked effectively. In fact, resources devoted to air defense or any type of auxiliary aircraft (any-
thing that was not a large bomber) were wasted. The resource argument also featured shifting
funding from the traditional land and sea services to the air service—a position not designed to
win friends in the wider defense community. Like other airmen, Douhet believed that airplanes
were best employed in an independent air force.88
Douhet captured the imagination of early airmen with his vision of decisiveness through com-
mand of the air. Generations of later air power enthusiasts continue to seek to fulfill his proph-
ecy. Nuclear weapons were supposed to have fixed the technological shortfalls that prevented air
power alone from winning World War II. That they were unusable made little difference. Precision
guided munitions are the current mantra of the air power enthusiast—they have finally made
decisive air attack possible. There may actually be something to the precision guided munitions
claim; only time will tell. Douhet’s assertion of the futility of air defense proved wrong when radar
made locating aircraft possible and fighters became capable of catching and shooting down big
bombers. Douhet’s assertion of the fragility of civilian morale under air attack also proved false.
Nevertheless, he still has a major influence on air power doctrine and is the father of all modern
air power theory.
Other Air Power Theories.
Douhet may have been the father of air power theory, but others followed him quickly. Most
of the later air power theorists worked on one or both of two primary issues that Douhet had first
surfaced: the most efficient way to organize air power—a debate generally about an independent
air force, or the proper mix of fighters, bombers, and ground-attack aircraft. The debate about
separate air forces was important but not a true strategic issue. Conversely, the issue of proper mix
of aircraft got directly to the issue of the proper role of air power. The early theorists presented a
variety of views on the issue. William “Billy” Mitchell saw America’s strategic problem as one of
defense against sea-borne attack. A Douhet-like offensive air strategy was inappropriate. He also
believed that aerial combat could provide effective defense against air attack. Thus, he developed
a strategy based on a mix of fighters and bombers. In terms of both the necessity of command of the
air and the potential strategic decisiveness of air power, Mitchell agreed completely with Douhet.89
Another early air power theorist was British Wing Commander John C. “Jack” Slessor. Sles-
sor served a tour as an instructor at the Army Staff College at Camberley. His book Air Power and
Armies is a collection of his lectures at the War College. Slessor was a believer in strategic bombing,
but, perhaps because of his audience, he also emphasized the relationship between air power and
ground operations. The first requirement was gaining command of the air. Next, air power could

38
interdict the enemy’s lines of communication. Using air power in direct support of committed
troops (the flying artillery/close air support concept) was ineffective. Slessor did believe that both
aspects of the air campaign could occur simultaneously—one did not need complete air superior-
ity to begin interdiction. From the standpoint of the ground commander, supporting air power
was most effective in facilitating a breakthrough, in the pursuit and in the defense.90
Slessor’s advocacy of interdiction was not, however, the only way one might approach the
air-ground support issue. German Chief of Air Staff during the interwar years Helmut Wilberg
was a pioneer in direct air-ground support. He wrote some of and edited and approved all of Ger-
many’s immediate post-war studies on air force operations. Those studies concluded that strategic
bombardment did not work, but that close air support did. Thus, it is not surprising that unlike
either the British or the Americans, the Germans developed a tactical air force oriented on close
support of ground forces. The opportunity for Germany to develop a strategic air force or doctrine
occurred during the tenure of Walter Weaver as Chief of Air Staff between 1934 and 1936. Weaver
was a bomber advocate of the Douhetian ilk. However, when he died in an airplane crash in 1936,
the Luftwaffe canceled Weaver’s pet four-engine bomber development program and slipped com-
fortably back into its ground support doctrine.
CONCLUSION
Which of these approaches to strategy is the best? What is the approved solution? The answer
is simple—there is no best solution. All the above have utility for specific purposes but are lacking
as generalizations on strategy. They tend to be: 1) war-oriented rather than general (i.e., military
strategy rather than strategy in general); 2) too narrowly focused even within the wartime realm
(that is, they address military-specific strategies rather than more general grand strategies, and in
some cases represent single-service approaches); and 3) even in the military arena are too focused
on one aspect of a multidimensional problem (i.e., they attempt to skip the basic ends-ways-means
relationship and go straight to the solution). They are generally concerned with the how, while
ignoring the what or why. The exceptions were the broad concepts like attrition, exhaustion, and
annihilation and nuclear strategy that always aimed at deterrence and clearly linked ways with
means to achieve that end.
So, why present all these strategic concepts if they do not work? Remember that although none
of the paradigms works as a generalization, each has merit in specific circumstances. The strategist
needs to be familiar with each so he can select the best approach or combination of approaches for
the situation he faces. In that respect strategy is much like carpentry. Both are skills intended for
solving problems. The carpenter uses a saw to cut, a hammer to drive, sandpaper to smooth, and
myriad other tools depending on the need—there is a tool for every job. Similarly, the strategist
needs to have a wide assortment of tools in his kit bag and be able to select the proper one for the
task at hand. There is an old saying that if the only tool one has is a hammer, all problems look like
a nail. That is as bad a solution in strategy as it is in carpentry.

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 2

1. See, Hew Strachan, “The Lost Meaning of Strategy,” Survival, Vol. 47, No. 3, Autumn 2005, pp. 33-54.

2. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, Michael Howard and Peter Paret, eds./trans., Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1976, p. 177.

3. Antoine Henri Baron de Jomini, The Art of War, G. H. Mendell and W. P. Craighill, trans., 1862, reprint, The West
Point Military Library Series, Thomas E. Griess and Jay Luvass, eds., Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1971,
p. 62.

39
 4. Henry Lee Scott, Military Dictionary: Comprising Technical Definitions; Information on Raising and Keeping Troops;
Actual Service, including Makeshifts and Improved Materiel; and Law, Government, Regulation, and Administration Relating
to Land Forces, 1861, reprint, The West Point Military Library series, Thomas E. Griess and Jay Luvass, eds., Westport,
Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1968, p. 574.

5. Basil H. Liddell Hart, Strategy, 2nd Edition, 1954, reprint, New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1967, pp. 335-6.

6. Colin S. Gray, Modern Strategy, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 17.

7. United States Department of Defense, The Joint Staff, Joint Publication 1-02, DOD Dictionary of Military and As-
sociated Terms, hereafter Joint Pub 1-02, available from www.dtic.mil/doctrine/jel/new_pubs/jp1_02.pdf, 507, 357; United
States Department of Defense, The Joint Staff, Joint Doctrine Encyclopedia, pp. 731, 542, available from www.dtic.mil/
doctrine/joint_military_encyclopedia/htm.

8. Robert H. Dorff, “A Primer in Strategy Development” in U.S. Army War College Guide Strategy, Joseph R. Cerami
and James F. Holcomb, Jr., eds., Carlisle Barracks, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, 2001, p. 11; Richard A. Chilcoat,
“Strategic Art: The New Discipline for 21st Century Strategists” in U.S. Army War College Guide to Strategy, Joseph R.
Cerami and James F. Holcomb, Jr., eds., Carlisle Barracks, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, 2001, p. 205.

9. Gray, p. 28.

10. J. C. (Joseph Callwell) Wylie, Military Strategy: A General Theory of Power Control, New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers
University Press, 1967, reprint, Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1989, pp. 22-27.

11. Russell F. Weigley, “Response to Brian McAllister Linn by Russell F. Weigley,” The Journal of Military History,
Vol. 66, No. 2, April 2002, p. 531.

12. Michael Howard, “Lessons of the Cold War,” Survival, Vol. 36, No. 4, Winter 1994-5, p. 165.

13. Dorff, p. 12.

14. Clausewitz, pp. 88-9.

15. Sun Tzu, The Art of War, Samuel B. Griffith, trans., 1963, reprint, New York: Oxford University Press, 1973, pp.
73, 63; Liddell Hart, p. 366.

16. Sun Tzu, pp. 77, 98, 85, 96.

17. Clausewitz, p. 267.

18. Ibid., pp. 595-6.

19. Ibid., p. 528.

20. Jomini, pp. 61-3.

21. Liddell Hart, p. 337.

22. Ibid., p. 339.

23. Ibid., pp. 339-41; Clausewitz, p. 137.

24. André Beaufre, An Introduction to Strategy, with Particular Reference to Problems of Defense, Politics, Economics, and
Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age, New York: Praeger, 1965; André Beaufre, Deterrence and Strategy, New York: F.A. Praeger,
1966; André Beaufre, Strategy of Action, London: Farber and Farber, 1967.

40
 25. Beaufre, An Introduction to Strategy, pp. 30-1.

26. Ibid., pp. 26-29.

27. Ibid., pp. 34-5.

28. Ibid., p. 36.

29. Ibid., p. 129.

30. Beaufre, Strategy of Action, p. 28.

31. Ibid., p. 132.

32. Luttwak, pp. 92-3.

33. Ibid., p. 94.

34. Ibid., pp. 94-5.

35. Ibid., pp. 4, 87-91.

36. Ibid., p. 7.

37. Ibid., 8.

38. Ibid., 9-10.

39. Ibid., p. 10.

40. Ibid., pp. 10-15, 17.

41. Martin van Creveld, The Transformation of War, New York: The Free Press, 1991, p. ix.

42. Ibid., pp. 57, ix.

43. Ibid., p. 125-156.

44. Ibid., pp. 63-94, 119, 120-220.

45. Martin van Creveld, “The Transformation of War Revisited,” in Robert J. Bunker, ed., Non-State Threats and
Future Wars, London: Frank Cass, 2003, pp. 5, 7-14.

46. Small numbers of copies are generally available from online book dealers, but a PDF copy is now available
from wolfpangloss.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/malik-quranic-concept-of-war.pdf.

47. S. K. Malik, The Quranic Concept of War, Delhi, India: Adam Publishers & Distrirbutors, 1992, p. 1.

48. Ibid., p. 20.

49. Ibid.

50. Ibid., p. 23.

51. Ibid., p. 35.

41
 52. Ibid., p. 44.

53. Ibid., pp. 44-5.

54. Ibid., p. 47.

55. Ibid., p. 48.

56. Ibid., p. 58.

57. Ibid.

58. Ibid., pp. 58-9.

59. Ibid., p. 59.

60. Patrick Poole and Mark Hanna, “Publisher’s Preface,” in The Quranic Concept of War, p. 1.

61. Archer Jones, Elements of Military Strategy: An Historical Approach, Westport, CT: Praeger, 1996, p. xiii.

62. Ibid., p. xiv.

63. Archer Jones, Civil War Command and Strategy: The Process of Victory and Defeat, New York: The Free Press, 1992,
p. 35; Jones, Elements of Military Strategy, pp. 201-4.

64. Boyd never published his OODA loop theory. It is available in John R. Boyd, “A Discourse on Winning and
Losing,” unpublished paper, Air University document number MU43947, August 1987. The best summary is David S.
Fadok, “John Boyd and John Warden: Airpower’s Quest for Strategic Paralysis,” in The Paths of Heaven: The Evolution
of Airpower Theory, Maxwell AFB, Alabama: Air University Press, 1997, pp. 141-3.

65. John A. Warden III, “The Enemy as a System,” Airpower Journal, Spring 1995, pp. 41-55.

66. T. E. (Thomas Edward) Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom: A Triumph, New York: George Doran Publishing Co.,
1926, reprint, New York: Anchor Books, 1991.

67. Ibid., pp. 104-5, 143-5; Robert B. Aspery, War in the Shadows: The Guerrilla in History, 2 Vols., New York: Double-
day & Co., Inc., 1975, p. 1:262-4.

68. T. E. (Thomas Edward) Lawrence, “Guerrilla Warfare” in Encyclopedia Britannica, 1957, Vol. 10, as quoted in
Aspery, War in the Shadows, p. 1:269; Aspery, War in the Shadows, p. 1:263.

69. Peter Paret, ed., Makers of Modern Strategy: from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 1986, p. 831.

70. Mao Tse-Tung, On Protracted War, Peking, China: Foreign Language Press, 1960; Mao Tse-Tung: An Anthology
of His Writings, Anne Fremantle, ed., New York: New American Library, 1972.

71. Ernesto “Che” Guevara de la Serna, Che Guevara on Guerrilla Warfare, “Introduction,” by Maj. Harris-Clichy
Peterson, USMCR, New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1961, p. 10; Ernesto “Che” Guevara de la Serna, Guerrilla Warfare,
New York: Monthly Review Press, 1961, p. 15.

72. Charles C. Callwell, Small Wars—Their Principles and Practices, 3rd Ed., London: His Majesty’s Stationary Office,
1898, 1906; reprint, East Ardsley, England: EP Publishing Ltd. 1976, pp. 23, 25-33, 85-90, 125-148; Asprey, War in the
Shadows, pp. 1:204-6.

73. Roger Trinquier, Modern Warfare: A French View of Counterinsurgency, Daniel Lee, trans., 1964, reprint, West-
port, CT: Praeger International, 2006, pp. 5-6.

42
 74. Ibid., p. 54.

75. Ibid., p. 37-8.

76. Ibid., p. 72-3.

77. Ibid., pp. 83-88.

78. David Galula, Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice, New York: Frederick A. Praeger: 1964, pp. 6-10.

79. Ibid., pp. 17-26.

80. Ibid., pp. 74-79, 87-93, 96-106.

81. Frank Kitson, Low Intensity Operations: Subversion, Insurgency, and Peacekeeping, Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole
Books, 1971, pp. 67-143.

82. Niccolò Machiavelli, The Art of War, Ellis Farnsworth, trans., New York: Da Capo Press, 1965; Niccolò Machia-
velli, The Discourses of Niccolò Machiavelli, Leslie J. Walker, trans., Boston, MA: Routedge and Paul, 1975; Niccolò Ma-
chiavelli, The Prince, Luigi Ricci, trans., revised by E. R. P. Vincent, New York: New American Library, 1952; Frederick
the Great, Instructions for his Generals, Thomas R. Phillips, trans., Harrisburg, PA: The Stackpole Company, 1960; The
Military Maxims of Napoleon, George C. D. Aguilar, trans., with an “Introduction,” by David G. Chandler, 1831, re-
print, New York: Da Capo Press, 1995, p. 14; Michèle A. Flournoy, ed., QDR 2001: Strategy-Driven Choices for America’s
Security, Washington, DC: National Defense University Press, 2001.

83. See, for example, Bernard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age, 1959, reprint Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1971; Joint Pub 1-02, p. 156.

84. Albert Wohlstetter, The Delicate Balance of Terror, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 1958; Brodie, Strategy in the Missile
Age; Herman Kahn, On Thermonuclear War, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1960; Thomas C. Schelling, The
Strategy of Conflict, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960, and Arms and Influence, New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press, 1966.

85. Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History 1660-1783, 1890, reprint Boston, MA: Little,
Brown and Company, 1970, pp. 25, 26, 29-88.

86. Julian S. Corbett, Some Principles of Maritime Strategy, London: Longman, Green, 1911.

87. Theodore Ropp, War in the Modern World, 1959, reprint, New York: Collier Books, 1973, pp. 208-9.

88. Giulio Douhet, The Command of the Air, Sheila Fischer, trans., Rome, Italy: Rivista Aeronautica, 1958.

89. William Mitchell, Winged Defense: The Development and Possibilities of Modern Air Power—Economic and Military,
New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1925.

90. John C. Slessor, Air Power and Armies, Oxford, England: Oxford University Press, 1925.

43
 CHAPTER 3

TOWARD A THEORY OF STRATEGY: ART LYKKE AND THE

U.S. ARMY WAR COLLEGE STRATEGY MODEL

H. Richard Yarger

Gregory D. Foster argued in a Washington Quarterly article that there is no official or accepted
general theory of strategy in the United States. In fact, he notes that, as a people, Americans seem
to regard theorizing in general as a futile intellectual exercise. If one were to construct such a
theory, Foster continues, it should incorporate those elements found in any complete theory: es-
sential terminology and definitions; an explanation of the assumptions and premises underlying
the theory; substantive propositions translated into testable hypothesis; and methods that can be
used to test the hypotheses and modify the theory as appropriate.1 Foster may have this theory
thing right. There is little evidence that collectively as a nation there is any agreement on just what
constitutes a theory of strategy. This is very unfortunate, because the pieces for a good theory of
strategy have been laying around the U.S. Army War College for years--although sometimes hard
to identify amongst all the intellectual clutter. Arthur F. Lykke, Jr.’s Army War College strategy
model, with its ends, ways, and means, is the centerpiece of this theory.2 The theory is quite simple,
but it often appears unduly complex as a result of confusion over terminology and definitions and
the underlying assumptions and premises.
One sees the term “strategy” misapplied often. There is a tendency to use it as a general term for
a plan, concept, course of action, or “idea” of a direction in which to proceed. Such use is inappro-
priate. Strategy is the domain of the senior leader at the higher echelons of the state, the military,
business corporations, or other institutions. Henry Eccles describes strategy as “…the comprehen-
sive direction of power to control situations and areas in order to attain objectives.”3 His definition
captures much of the essence of strategy. It is comprehensive, it provides direction, its purpose is
control, and it is fundamentally concerned with the application of power.4 Strategy, as used in the
Army War College curriculum, focuses on the nation-state and the use of the elements of power
to serve state interests. In this context, strategy is the employment of the instruments (elements) of
power (political/diplomatic, economic, military, and informational) to achieve the political objec-
tives of the state in cooperation or in competition with other actors pursuing their own objectives.5
The underlying assumption of strategy from a national perspective is that states and other
competitive entities have interests that they will pursue to the best of their abilities. Interests are
desired end states, such as survival, economic well-being, and enduring national values. The na-
tional elements of power are the resources used to promote or advance national interests. Strategy
is the pursuit, protection, or advancement of these interests through the application of the instru-
ments of power. Strategy is fundamentally a choice; it reflects a preference for a future state or
condition. In doing so, strategy confronts adversaries, and some things simply remain beyond
control or unforeseen.6
Strategy is all about how (way or concept) leadership will use the power (means or resources)
available to the state to exercise control over sets of circumstances and geographic locations to
achieve objectives (ends) that support state interests. Strategy provides direction for the coercive or
persuasive use of this power to achieve specified objectives. This direction is by nature proactive.
It seeks to control the environment as opposed to reacting to it. Strategy is not crisis management.
It is its antithesis. Crisis management occurs when there is no strategy or the strategy fails. Thus,
the first premise of a theory of strategy is that strategy is proactive and anticipatory.7

45
 A second premise of a theory of strategy is that the strategist must know what is to be accom-
plished—that is, he must know the end state that he is trying to achieve. Only by analyzing and
understanding the desired end state in the context of the internal and external environment can the
strategist develop appropriate objectives leading to the desired end state.
A third premise of a theory of strategy is that the strategy must identify an appropriate balance
among the objectives sought, the methods to pursue the objectives, and the resources available.
In formulating a strategy, the ends, ways, and means are part of an inteegral whole, and if one is
discussing a strategy at the national (grand) level with a national level end, the ways and means
would similarly refer to national level concepts and resources. That is, ends, ways, and means
must be consistent. Thus, a National Security Strategy end could be supported by concepts based
on all the instruments of power and the associated resources. For the military element of power,
the National Military Strategy would identify appropriate ends for the military to be accomplished
through national military concepts with national military resources. In a similar manner a Theater
or Regional Combatant Commander would have specific theater level objectives for which he
would develop theater concepts and use resources allocated to his theater. In some cases these
might include other than military instruments of power if those resources are available. The levels
of strategy are distinct, but interrelated because of the hierarchical and comprehensive nature of
strategy.
A fourth premise of strategy is that political purpose must dominate all strategy; hence, Clause-
witz’s famous dictum, “War is merely the continuation of policy by other means.”8 Political pur-
pose is stated in policy. Policy is the expression of the desired end state sought by the government.
In its finest form it is clear articulation of guidance for the employment of the instruments of power
toward the attainment of one or more end states. In practice, policy tends to be much vaguer.
Nonetheless policy dominates strategy by its articulation of the end state and its guidance. The
analysis of the end state and guidance yields objectives leading to the desired end state. Objectives
provide purpose, focus, and justification for the actions embodied in a strategy.9 National strategy
is concerned with a hierarchy of objectives that is determined by the political purpose of the state.
Policy insures that strategy pursues appropriate aims.
A fifth premise is that strategy is hierarchical. Foster argues that true strategy is the purview
of the leader and is a “weltanschauung” (world view) that represents both national consensus and
comprehensive direction. In the cosmic scheme of things Foster may well be right, but reality
requires more than a “weltanschauung.” Political leadership ensures and maintains its control and
influence through the hierarchical nature of state strategy. Strategy cascades from the national
level down to the lower levels. Generally, strategy emerges at the top as a consequence of policy
statements and a stated National Security Strategy (sometimes referred to as Grand Strategy). Na-
tional Security Strategy lays out broad objectives and direction for the use of all the instruments
of power. From this National Security Strategy the major activities and departments develop sub-
ordinate strategies. For the military, this is the National Military Strategy. In turn, the National
Military Strategy leads to lower strategies appropriate to the various levels of war.
The U.S. Army War College (in consonance with Joint Pub 1-02) defines the levels of strategy
within the state as:

• National Security Strategy. (also referred to as Grand Strategy and National Strategy). The art and
science of developing, applying and coordinating the instruments of national power (diplomatic,
economic, military, and informational) to achieve objectives that contribute to national security (Joint
Pub 1-02).

46
 • National Military Strategy. The art and science of distributing and applying military power to attain
national objectives in peace and war (Joint Pub 1-02).

• Theater Strategy. The art and science of developing integrated strategic concepts and courses of action
directed toward securing the objectives of national and alliance or coalition security policy and strat-
egy by the use of force, threatened use of force, or operations not involving the use of force within a
theater (Joint Pub 1-02).

The hierarchical nature of strategy facilitates span of control. It represents a logical means of
delegating responsibility and authority among senior leadership. It also suggests that if strategy
consists of objectives, concepts, and resources, each should be appropriate to the level of strategy
and consistent with one another. Thus, strategy at the national military level should articulate
military objectives at the national level and express the concepts and resources in terms appropri-
ate to the national level for the specified objective.
At some level planning and action fall below the strategic threshold. Under the National Mili-
tary Strategy, the Combatant Commanders develop Theater Strategy and subsequent campaign
plans. At this juncture the line between strategy and planning merges with campaign planning
that may be either at the theater strategic level or in the realm of Operational Art. Graphically the
relationship between strategy and the levels of war appear as:10

National Security Strategy

Levels of National Defense Strategy (OSD)
Strategy National Military Strategy (CJCS)

Overlapping Theater Strategy & Campaign Planning (COCOM)

Boundaries
Between Strategic Operational (JTF)
and Operational Tactical (Divisions & Corps)
Levels of War

Figure 3-1. Strategic and Operational Art.

Strategy differs from operational art and tactics in functional, temporal, and geographic as-
pects. Functionally and temporally, tactics is the domain of battles—engagements of relative short
duration. Operational art is the domain of the campaign, a series of battles occurring over a longer
period of time. Strategy is the domain of war that encompasses the protracted level of conflict
among nations, armed or unarmed. Tactics concerns itself with the parts or pieces, operational art
with the combination of the pieces, and strategy with the combinations of combinations. Geo-
graphically, tactics is narrowly defined; operational level is broader and more regional in orienta-
tion; and, strategy is theater-wide, intercontinental, or global. It should also be noted that with the
advances in transportation and communications, there has been a spatial and temporal conver-
gence of strategy, operational art, and tactics. Increasingly, events at the tactical level have strate-
gic consequences.1
A sixth premise is that strategy is comprehensive. That is to say, while the strategist may be
devising a strategy from a particular perspective, he must consider the whole of the strategic envi-
ronment in his analysis to arrive at a proper strategy to serve his purpose at his level. The strategist

47
 External Environment
Domestic and international circumstances and conditions
affecting the welfare of the state.

National Interests
Desired end states based on values and strategic
analysis. Expressed as policies.

National Security Strategy

Political, Economic, Military,
Informational Elements of Power

National Military Strategy

Military Element of Power

Theater Strategy
Operational Art
Tactics

Figure 3-2. Comprehensiveness of Strategy.

is concerned with external and internal factors at all levels. On the other hand, in formulating a
strategy, the strategist must also be cognizant that each aspect—objectives, concepts, and resourc-
es—has effects on the environment around him. Thus, the strategist must have a comprehensive
knowledge of what else is happening and the potential first, second, third, etc., order effects of his
own choices on the efforts of those above, below, and on his same level. The strategist’s efforts
must be fully integrated with the strategies or efforts of senior, coequal, and subordinate elements.
Strategists must think holistically—that is, comprehensively. They must be cognizant of both the
“big picture,” their own institution’s capabilities and resources, and the impact of their actions on
the whole of the environment. Good strategy is never developed in isolation.
A seventh premise is that strategy is developed from a thorough analysis and knowledge of
the strategic situation/environment. The purpose of this analysis is to highlight the internal and
external factors that help define or may affect the specific objectives, concepts, and resources of
strategy.
The last premise of a theory of strategy is that some risk is inherent to all strategy, and the best
any strategy can offer is a favorable balance against
failure. Failure can be either the failure to achieve
one’s own objectives and/or providing a significant STRATEGY
advantage to one’s adversaries.
ES

ES

Art Lykke gave coherent form to a theory of strate-

URC

IV
CEPT

gy with his articulation of the three-legged stool mod-

C
RESO

JE

el of strategy, which illustrated that strategy = ends

B
CON

+ ways + means and, if these were not in balance, the

assumption of greater risk. In the Lykke proposition
(model) the ends are “objectives,” the ways are the RISK
“concepts” for accomplishing the objectives, and the
means are the “resources” for supporting the con- Figure 3-3. The Lykke Model.

48
cepts. The stool tilts if the three legs are not kept in balance. If any leg is too short, the risk is too
great and the strategy falls over.12
It should be evident that the model poses three key questions for strategists. What is to be
done? How is it to be done? What resources are required to do it in this manner? Lykke argues that
if any leg of the stool is out of balance then one accepts a corresponding risk, unless one adjusts
the legs. One might add resources, use a different concept, or change the objective. Or, one might
decide to accept the risk. The theory is quite clear--a valid strategy must have an appropriate bal-
ance of objectives, concepts, and resources or its success is at greater risk.13 Lykke’s theory, like all
good theory, does not necessarily provide a strategy. It is a paradigm that describes the questions
to ask and the rules to follow. His strategic theory is supported by the underlying premises and as-
sumptions above, and its practice is facilitated by the sharing of common definitions and formats.
Art Lykke wrestled with his proposition for many years and taught thousands of Army War
College students to use his model properly through definition and illustration. These definitions
and illustrations are important because they provide the common understanding by which strate-
gists communicate. They include:
• Ends (objectives) explain “what” is to be accomplished. Ends are objectives that, if accom-
plished, create, or contribute to, the achievement of the desired end state at the level of
strategy being analyzed and, ultimately, serve national interests. Ends are expressed with
verbs (i.e., deter war, promote regional stability, destroy Iraqi armed forces).
• Ways (strategic concepts/courses of action) explain “how” the ends are to be accomplished by
the employment of resources. The concept must be explicit enough to provide planning
guidance to those who must implement and resource it. Since ways convey action they
often have a verb, but ways are statements of “how,” not “what” in relation to the objective
of a strategy. Some confusion exists, because the concept for higher strategy often defines
the objectives of the next lower level of strategy. A simple test for a way is to ask “in order
to do what?” That should lead to the real objective. Some concepts are so accepted that
their names have been given to specific strategies (containment, forward defense, assured
destruction, and forward presence are illustrations). But note that in actual practice these
strategies have specific objectives and forces associated with them, and the concept is better
developed than the short title suggests.
• Means (resources) explain what specific resources are to be used in applying the concepts to
accomplish the objectives and use no verb. Means can be tangible or intangible. Examples
of tangible means include forces, people, equipment, money, and facilities. Intangible re-
sources include things like “will,” courage, or intellect.
• Risk explains the gap between what is to be achieved and the concepts and resources avail-
able to achieve the objective. Since there are never enough resources or a clever enough
concept to assure 100 percent success in the competitive international environment, there is
always some risk. The strategist seeks to minimize this risk through his development of the
strategy—the balance of ends, ways, and means.

Ends, ways, and means often get confusing in the development or analysis of a specific strat-
egy. The trick is to focus on the questions. Objectives will always answer the question of what one
is trying to achieve. Concepts always explain “how” the resources will be used. Resources always
explain what will be used to execute the concept. If the objective is “defend the United States
(what?)”; “to develop, build, or establish a larger force” is a way (how?); and, “national man-

49
power reserves, money, and training facilities” are examples of the means (resources to be used
to support the “how”). The rule of thumb to apply here is that resources are usually physical and
countable: Army, Air Force, Navy, units and armed forces of United States; personnel; dollars; fa-
cilities; equipment—trucks, planes, ships, etc.; and resources of organizations—Red Cross, NATO,
etc. Means might also include such intangibles as “will, industrial capacity, intellect. etc.,” but,
state them as resources. Do not use means to describe concepts, and do not articulate resources as
ways or concepts. In a very simplified manner, “diplomacy” is a way to promote regional stability
(objective), but diplomats are the means. In the same manner, Clausewitz preferred “overthrow of
the enemy’s government” as the end, to fight a decisive battle as the way, and a larger army as
the means. He saw the larger army as an appropriate resource to support his way—the decisive
battle. To say “use of a larger army” infers a different concept for success and is an inappropriate
statement of means (resources).
Over time thousands of students at the Army War College have tested Art Lykke’s theory of
strategy using the historical case study approach. His proposition is a common model for ana-
lyzing and evaluating the strategy of historical and current strategic level leadership. By using
the theory to break a strategy into its component parts, Art Lykke argued that any strategy can
be examined for suitability, feasibility, and acceptability, and, an assessment made of the proper
balance among the component parts. In addition, his lecturing and presentations have led to the
adoption of the basic model by a cohort of military and political strategists. This has, in turn, led to
the proactive evaluation of strategy during development against the same standards of:
• Suitability—will its attainment accomplish the effect desired (relates to objective)?
• Feasibility—can the action be accomplished by the means available (relates to concept)?
• Acceptability—are the consequences of cost justified by the importance of the effect de-
sired (relates to resources/concept)?14

Not only has the basic proposition been tested in historical case studies and practical applica-
tion, it has also proven itself adaptable to explaining differing aspects of strategic thought. Art
Lykke’s argument that nations engage in two distinct types of military strategy concurrently—
operational and force developmental—illustrates the theory’s adaptability. Operational strategies
are based on existing military capabilities. Force developmental strategies are based on future
threats and objectives and are not limited by existing capabilities. In fact, the primary role of these
strategies is to help determine and develop future capabilities.15 Thus, the theory lends itself to
both warfighters and force developers within the military.
Art Lykke’s theory of strategy is an important contribution to strategic thought. In encouraging
the strategist to use the term “strategy” correctly while applying the strategy model and its four
parts—ends, ways, means and risk—he provided a viable theory of strategy. The assumptions and
premises of this theory have proven valid for analyzing and developing strategy. Above all a valid
strategy must find a balance among ends, ways, and means consistent with the risk the nation is
willing to accept. Art Lykke’s theory of strategy provides the basis for clearly articulating and
objectively evaluating any strategy.

ENDNOTES - CHAPTER 3

1. Gregory D. Foster, “A Conceptual Foundation for a Theory of Strategy,” The Washington Quarterly, Winter 1990,
p. 43. Foster’s analysis of the assumptions and premises of strategy is particularly thought provoking.

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